Days of Summer

Thanks to the fuckers who smashed my windshield to steal my GPS. It made me feel even more alone in the world than I already felt. It was also one more thing on a long list of things that went wrong this summer.

I got laid off.

I had another in a series of steamy love affairs that went no where.

My computer died and I lost all my pictures.

I found out I need major dental work. Bone loss, extractions, implants- that kind of major.

My finger got infected and needed to be cut open- the whole experience was really traumatic.

My cat got cancer.

I took in a stray cat that hates it here.

Someone hit my car and took off.

My car got broken into.

My GPS got stolen.

And of course, there's the usual stress that I live with- I wont get into that here.

But what Ive been taught is to be grateful.

My basic needs are met.

I have hope.

There is great possibility. Always possibility.

Unbearable Lightness

The book 'The Unbearable Lightness of Being' says "It had taken 6 chance happenings to push Tomas toward Tereza". In other words, 6 things went awry and put them at the same place at the same time. Happenstance. Serendipity.

6 is the lucky number and here's why...

1. The photography class was full. I was fifth on the waitlist. Class is at 7pm on Friday. The office closed at 1PM. I call at 12:40. Someone had just called to cancel ten minutes earler. They dont have time to go down the waitlist so they let me sign up.

2. On the way to class, I see an art installation called Wheel Questions. Its interesting and I decide to email the artist, Johnnny, and see if he needs a volunteer. I find out on his website that he also owns a data company and I know a programming language he needs help with. I have plans the weekend and we decide to meet on Monday.

3. On Saturday, my 10AM vet appointment goes till 12:30 even though it was suppose to be only an hour long and I dont get home till after 2PM. My plans for the day are messed up. I decide to nap and then go to Harvard Square at night and hear the street musicians.

4. The woman who needs a cat sitter cant find anyone with the key to her place, so I need to drive into Cambridge to get it, which will ruin my plan to go to Harvard Square. I try several times to reach people with a key in vain. On the way into town, I decide to try one more time and reach someone who can let me into her apartment.

5. I decide to call Johnny on the fly and see if he wants to meet up tonight instead at Harvard Square. He's home and availvable and agrees. We meet, have coffee, talk business, go for a walk and part ways.

6. I wander around the city. My feet hurt from new shoes and an unexpected walk so I look for a new pair. Then tt gets too late to go to the bookstore I always go to so I head back to my car. I guess you know what happens next...

Memories of Summer

I don't remember a lot about my childhood, just bits and snippets. I know that every summer we went to Florida- June, July, and August. Each time, my parents were determined to buy a condo and we spent a great part of our summer condo hunting. Some days we would go to the hotel pool or the beach and when the rain came in the late afternoon, we would go to the mall. Other days we would look at condos and houses. I remember the Florida heat, sitting in the back seat of the rental car and the times I didn't want to go in another house or condo and chose instead to wait in the car. The heat never bothered me. I remember getting so hot that I got goosebumps and thinking that you could get so hot that you got cold.

At night, we would drive around expensive neighborhoods, to catch a glimpse of well lit living rooms and manicured lawns. My mother would ogle over the large chandeliers in the foyers and I would chime in and say "Look at that one." I would feel good when my mom agreed. My father would say things like "Look at that, she's a beaut. Do you think we would be happy if we lived there?" and when he saw a kids on bicycles or playing ball, he would say "look, you could be friends with them if we lived here." It was a constant world of make believe and what ifs and fantasy as we tried to picture ourselves living in those neighborhoods, walking those streets and befriending those people.

I was a quiet and apparently neurotic only child with a great ability to amuse myself. As we tromped from real estate office to real estate office, I would collect the business cards, much in the same way that I collected stickers. Each office we would walk into, I would discreetly go from desk to desk and take a card. I had a huge pile of them, at least 100 or 150. I would alphabetize them, first by last name within each brokerage office and then by the brokerage office name itself. At first the cards were in a coffee tin, that I had decorated with stickers, but eventually they made it into a burgundy red photo album with gold trim, similar to the one I had my sticker collection in. I spent hours organizing the cards on the gold-trimmed sticky pages.

When I look back, I see the organization of the cards as a way to gain some control of the chaos all around me. Looking back, I realize how bizarre my parents behavior was- all that condo hunting and they never even bought anything. It doesn't make sense. They had the money. The hotel costs alone would have justified buying- 12 weeks of hotel fees plus all the meals out. I don't understand it. Was it fear of commitment? Or more likely that my dad was more content with the distraction it all created, the excitement of it all, the possibility, like playing make believe.

The Saddest Thing about Relationships

At first thought the saddest thing about romantic relationships seems to be their ending, but that isn't the saddest part for me. The saddest part occurs afterward that- when there is no more contact, when the other person doesn't want to ever speak to me again. I feel like Ive spent months with this person, had endless conversation, with them, opened up my heart and my home and then, poof, its like they never existed, like they died, really. The absolute worst part is that sometimes the friendship was really positive and fun. Good times were had, laughs were abundant, but these are forever gone. Sometimes I've wished I had never taken the relationship further than friendship but then I quickly realize that the other persons feelings would have gotten in the way and even if I hadn't crossed the line (which usually happens because of my ravenous curiosity) the friendship wouldn't have sustained.

There have been cases where I knew the other person couldn't remain friends because their feelings were too intense. Then there have been the cases where I felt like the other person just didn't care enough to remain friends- these can be particularly painful. Then there is the rare case when the person is willing to remain friends, but the sexual tension is too great and I can practically feel them resisting, white-knuckling it.

It seems that everything goes through its own mutation and all of this just reminds me of the impermanence of life, how everything changes and the best we can do is adapt.

A Decade Later

How many nights spent sleeping on a hotel floor

with KittyKitty under my thin sheet

my sneakers still tied

in case I need to bolt

into the night's darkness

How many nights drunk and high

no place to call home

no solace in my buzz

and now

a decade later

its all changed

except for

KittyKitty under my sheets

Journal Entry- 6/27/2002

A stranger stopped me in the mall today and told me she was a psychic and that I had an aura around me. I told her I don't believe in those things. Maybe the aura is God- or the 20 pounds I have gained.

Timing is everything....or is it?

People always say "I was in the right place at the right time" or "I was at the wrong place at the wrong time". Destiny. People like to believe that thinks happen for a reason and I suppose I, too, used to believe that at one point, but that all changed suddenly one day.

I was in Whole Foods, buying baby's breath for my cat Simon. Simon (my beloved female cat) loved pull the buds off the stems and nibble on them. Every week I would buy her a new bunch and as soon as I walked in the apartment she would greet me at the door, smell the baby's breath and get all excited, kneading her paws on the hard wood floor.

The florist and I chatted about the baby's breath and cats and she started talking about her cat who had died years ago. She said that a year later, she came across another cat with the same coloring, who she took in. Over time, she found out that this new cat had been born around the same time her other cat had died and she determined that the new cat was the original cat, reincarnated.

I don't believe in reincarnation so to me this seemed like as far fetched an idea as the moon is make of cheese. I decided right there and then that we create our own truth to make ourselves feel better and to make sense of the world. I stopped believing that things happen for a reason and adopted a new belief- that life just happens and we can choose to make things happen out of that or not.

Maybe I too am creating this new belief so that life makes more sense for me.

Lists...

I am happiest when I'm thinking, doing, feeling...

1. biking

2. feeling free

3. feeling the sun and breezes on my skin

4. playing with animals

5. thinking of possibilities

6. hearing live music, seeing good movies, going to art museums

7. feeling inspired

8. poking around used bookstores

9. feeling connected

10. exercising, swimming, hiking, having boundless energy

10 things Id like to do:

1. bike the coast of MA and CA

2. hike the AT

3. swim with dolphins

4. live on a boat

5. drive across country in an RV

6. camp in the redwoods

7. go to Costa Rica, belize, paris, africa

8. relearn spanish

9. do another month long fast

10. write a book

10 'imaginary lives' id like to try:

1. professional athlete

2. bicycle mechanic

3. documentary maker

4. peace corps worker

5. adventure traveller

6. photographer

7. performer/dancer/actress

8. writer

9. illustrator/painter

10. cirque du soleil performer

Things you should know...

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Monsanto

The Path

One really fabulous amazing thing is that I trust that no matter what, I don't have to STRUGGLE! Life will unfold exactly as it should all I just need to keep right living . That is so cool. so cool.

A Letter from the Farm Sanctuary

I am happy to tell you that no downed cattle will be slaughtered for human food under a new rule announced by President Obama this weekend. However, many other downed animals are still in need of your help to ensure that they are no longer pushed, prodded and dragged to slaughter.
Under the previous regulations, a case-by-case assessment was made of cattle that went down at the slaughterhouse after passing the pre-slaughter inspection. The loopholes encouraged slaughterhouse workers to get cattle to stand and walk on their own, dragging them by the ears and tails, prodding them with electric shocks, even dragging them with chains and pushing them with forklifts, because an animal deemed a downer meant a loss in profits. While the meat industry pushed to allow sick and non-ambulatory cattle to enter the food chain amid the mad-cow disease scare (a reality the country has yet to truly confront), and hung on during an exposé of a California slaughterhouse that led to the largest meat recall in U.S. history, the Obama Administration moved quickly to address some of our longstanding concerns.
Since its inception, Farm Sanctuary has advocated an end to downed animal abuse and urged the USDA to ban their marketing. Our No Downers Campaign was founded in the belief that if downed animals are prevented from entering the food supply, producers would have less of an incentive to maintain the status quo of pushing these animals past their biological limits at any and all costs. Through the years that we have waged this campaign, we have worked for passage of the first laws in this country to end the marketing of downed animals, we have seen slaughterhouses and stockyards convicted of cruelty, and we have rescued and come to the aid of hundreds of downed animals.
Secretary of Agriculture Tom Vilsack said this new rule "is a step forward for both food safety and the standards for humane treatment of animals." Yet it is just a step and more steps are needed. The USDA needs to extend these same protections to all species—pigs, sheep, goats and other livestock who are disabled due to the intensity of factory farming and the push to maximize profits at the expense of living animals.
Please take a few minutes to contact Secretary Vilsack, thank him for closing the loopholes for downed cattle, and urge him to expand the umbrella of protection to other animals.
Thank you for your compassion and your action.
Sincerely,Gene BaurPresident and Co-founder, Farm Sanctuary

Encounters of the End of the World

World's End -Hingham 20 people show up on a cold windy snow- covered day to take pictures of the beauty of Nature's handiwork. They come saddled with backpacks, fancy cameras and tripods. This is serious business. I show up with my point and shoot and my pictures take 2 seconds to set up and another second to shoot and then I'm off to the next thing that catches my eye. The group stays for the entire afternoon-5 hours I'm told. I leave after an hour and later when I see my pictures, I'm quite happy with at least 3 of them and pretty happy with a handful of them. I only took 40 pictures, so overall I'm thrilled. My last shots were my best. But there were plenty of shots that I wanted to capture and my camera wasn't enough. I spent a week researching cameras before I settled on a mid-range digital SLR. So begins my venture into my next hobby...

On the Outside, Looking In

Samuel Shem has a new book out and even though I'm not at all familiar with him, have never read his work nor heard of him before I saw his name on the Porter Square Books website, I thought he might be interesting to hear so I went. He was interesting indeed. Apparently his book House of God became quite famous 30 years ago and he also wrote a book about McClain Hospital (the local nut house) and he did the play Bill W. and Dr. Bob, which I had heard about and wanted to go see a couple of years ago and am sad now that I missed it (although there is a DVD of it). He had a professor- like quality in his appearance and his reading felt like a lecture. What I found most interesting was hearing about his writing process- how he rewrites books 7 times, how he always knew he wanted to write, how writing is about doing it everyday. He gave me hope about my own writing. Marilyn Monroe said "I wasn't the prettiest. I wasn't the most talented. I just wanted it more than anyone else." What I lack most is desire I suppose.

I woke up today thinking about Shem and feeling too impatient to wait for the library's copy of House of God that I am on a wait list for, so I went to the local bookstore in Winthrop to peruse its shelves for Shem's work. I found not only House of God, but also Fine and Mount Misery. Also, I met some interesting local characters. It seems that Winthrop hides them almost as well as the Simon's Bookstore hides Shem's gems on overcrowded shelves.

Lee and Banafsheh were talking new movies and I jumped right in on the conversation, having just seen The Reader and wanting to see Revolutionary Road, both of which they were discussing.

"The Reader was excellent", I chime in. "I read it twice- years ago when it came out, and again before I saw the movie."

"Was it the same as the book?" Lee inquires.

"Mostly. I loved the book. I loved the writing, the words, so simple yet beautiful".

"Did you read it in German? Or do you mean that you loved the translation?" Lee asks.

"Ahh yes, the translation. You're right." I answer, not one for details or minute points, but amused just the same as her precision.

The conversation went on and then Lee got a phone call and Banasheh and I started chatting. She is a photographer and when I told her my interest in photography she invited me to meet a group tomorrow to take pictures at World's End. I gladly accepted, wonder now how I'll wake up in time to meet them, but also know that I need to go for my nourishment.

Later, I went to get a manicure. Elizabeth came bolting in shortly after I did and although Ive never actually met her before I know a lot about her. I heard her tell her story at her anniversary at an AA meeting a couple of years ago. She was so glad to be sober, so out going, so grateful. But something went wrong somewhere. Last summer I met her best friend at the laundromat. She was concerned because Liz was getting high again, using heroin and Liz's boyfriend was a known pedophile and the best friend didn't know how to confront her or what she should do. She kept saying that Liz 'slipped' and it was obvious that she didn't know a thing about recovery. We don't 'slip', we fall into a bottomless pits with no hope of getting out alive. I gave her my piddly advice and wished her luck. I said that if Liz wanted to get sober, she knew where to go. She had a solid foundation at one point and all those people were there waiting for her if she chose to get her act together again. But what I know too is that it often doesn't feel like a choice. This isn't exactly a pull-yourself-up-by-your-bootstraps disease.

Elizabeth is high tonight, I can hear it in her too rushed speech, her too loud vocals about her upcoming wedding (to the pedophile, I assume). The details of how much it all cost ($700 for the Hummer limo that seats 19, $600 for the DJ, $7.95 a piece for the battery operated waterfalls that will be centerpieces at each of the 20 tables at the K of C where her reception is bring held)are embarrassing. She is getting married at the church at Tewksbury Street- I wonder if she used to go to the Saturday morning women's AA meetings there. Liz is acting like Mei (the owner of the nail shop) is her friend but Mei is just being polite and not really saying much. Its obvious to everyone but Liz. At some point, I tell Liz she looks familiar and say I'm not sure where I know her from. She looks at me and says "AA" and then looks away. End of story. She doesn't want to talk about it.

On a whim, I get my eyebrows waxed for the first time. Mei's husband Michael convinces me I will look better. Mei and Michael are working in the shop every time I drive by, 6 days a week, at all hours.

Mei stands over me, waxing and plucking.

"Do you like working so much?" I ask.

"I like to work a lot. Its meditative." Mei answers, almost a whisper in her melodic birdsong voice.

"What do you like about it?" I'm forever asking people about their jobs in an effort to come to terms with my own.

"It feels good to make people look pretty." So simplistic.

After she does my eyebrows she darkens them a bit with a pencil and when I show Michael he says "You should always wear makeup, its one of the advantages of being a woman." I look over at Mei's bare face and catch the subtle insult he just threw her way. She doesn't flinch.

I hate Michael for these underhanded comments. I hear them every time I go in their shop. I know Michael is secretly gay. The tattoo he got when he was drunk at 19 gives it away- a beautiful rose on his left upper bicep. I wonder if hes just jealous of Mei's femininity.

As time wears on, Liz has become quieter and I know shes coming down from her high. She nods out while getting her pedicure. She comes to and asks Mei if she can write a check for $10 more than her bill claiming she lost her ATM card. Liz needs a bag on the way home. I only hope the check clears and Mei gets paid for her services. As I leave the shop, Liz is smoking outside and I say something about the cold on my way out, but Liz ignores me. She cant bear to see the truth and would prefer to remain covered in her shroud of denial.

Whipped

I wonder if anyone else in the office thinks about doing whip-its when they open the office fridge and see a bottle of whipped cream??

Nostalgia

A wistful desire to return in thought or in fact to a former time in one's life, to one's home or homeland, or to one's family and friends; a sentimental yearning for the happiness of a former place or time

A bittersweet longing for things, persons, or situations of the past.

longing for something past

A bittersweet longing for things, persons, or situations of the past.

a wistful or excessively sentimental sometimes abnormal yearning for return to or of some past period or irrecoverable condition

Homesickness; esp., a severe and sometimes fatal form of melancholia, due to homesickness

Nostalgia

I wish I knew back when how important the kindred spirits I had met along the way were to keep in my life. I wish I had known that those type of people are hard to find and even harder to replace. Thinking of a few today and wondering.

I did a lot of walking in New York City. I trudged 3-5 miles a day, usually with my knapsack attached to me carrying any necessities I might need- an umbrella, my journal, a travel book, a map, extra scarfs and headgear to keep warm. I felt more tired from walking with this knapsack than I do from an hour of cardio at the gym or at least more sore, but in a bad way. I took baths in the afternoons to relieve the soreness and it felt luxurious. I explored Greenwich Village, the Upper East Side (5th ave mostly), Nolita, Noho, East Village, Soho. It all looked the same to me and I wasn't crazy about any of it. On Thursday afternoon, it rained too hard to walk around and I spent the afternoon in a bookstore and later at a midday movie. It felt so good to spend the day away in this manner!

We found a restaurant that we liked (http://nymag.com/listings/restaurant/cornershop/) and we ate there 3 of the nights for dinner. They had good salads and some interesting things like plantains and vegetable kabob. The decor was quaint, the place small and dimly lit with a heavy red velvet curtain at the entrance. It felt like a lot of the time was focused on food - where to eat, what to eat, when to eat, etc. I did ok the first few days (no sugar or gluten) and then on Wednesday, after a portabello and mozzarella salad for lunch in the East Village, I wanted something sweet. We essentially ended up having chocolate for dinner here (http://www.maxbrenner.com/home.aspx). They have a 14 page chocolate menu (crepes, pancakes, chocolate pizza, hot chocolate, desserts, etc). It was pretty impressive, but nauseating. Oh well, I guess vacation is about eating. I ordered a crepe and I couldn't even eat 1/2 of it. It had peanut butter and chocolate in it, caramel sauce on the side, a small scoop of ice cream with chocolate one it, a few banana slices in toffee, and some hazelnut crunch on top of it. Talk about a lot!

Later, I went to a craft store and bought some colored pencils and a blank book and when we went to hear some jazz music I drew and colored designs in my own little world. I need that a lot (my own little world). A couple of nights, I journeled at the bar (It felt good to write!) while Lisa drank wine. Luckily she's laid back and doesn't say anything about my anti-socialness.

I spent some time in Central Park. The first time I went, I didn't have a proper map and tried with no luck to find the Strawberry Fields (a tribute to John Lennon). I went back the next day, map in hand and just as I found the Fields, it started raining pretty heavily. I was eager to take a picture of the Imagine Circle but my camera phone died. It didn't turn on again until I was almost back at the hotel. I went again on our last day there- map and functioning phone in hand, but I've got to say, the picture I took was pretty crappy and I didn't realize it until later.

One cold frigid day, I was walking down 5th Avenue and had just passed St. Patrick's Cathedral and noticed all of these people going in so I followed suit. It turned out it was noon mass. It was pretty wild as I've never been to mass before. Later this afternoon, I met a homeless man named Spider and his dog. I stopped to chat with him and pet his dog. They both haunted my thoughts for days.

We went to Macy's and saw the ball that drops in Time's Square on New Years Eve. We went to Rockefeller Center and saw the tree and the ice skaters. We saw the Cirque du Soleil (the best part of the trip) at Madison Square Garden and then strolled around Times Square. We checked out the windows at Macy's and the shops, tree and more ice skaters at Bryant Park.

It was good to get out of Boston for a while, take time off of work, get out of the routine. It was also good to get back into the routine and anticipate the next vacation.

Cold Weather Blues

Life is so complex and moves so quickly- people make choices, get married, have kids, buy property. Something about the permanency of all that scares me. I can't do it. Its way too much commitment. I keep thinking that maybe someday my attitude will change- the right condo will come along or the right person but so far- nothing. I don't know if its perfectionism or fear or just the way I'm built but it seems so odd in comparison to the rest of our society.

Lately, I'm not so happy with my work life. It's 8:30 in the morning and I log onto the computer, start working. Next thing I know, its 1 in the afternoon and I'm going out to get lunch then a blur until I stop around 4:30. It feels like "where did my whole day just go?" I don't think this is how I was designed to live.

Lately too, my energy is zapped. I feel blah, flat. It's a cold weather thing, I think. I have little energy to be around people. It takes a lot of energy to interact, mostly because I'm introverted by nature. I hate making plans. There have been people who I've never made plans with and still spent a lot of time with. We had a lot of last minute dinners and movies and art events. It was good for me that way.

The good 'ole days

It was thanksgiving sometime in the 90's', 1994 perhaps. My parents had just gone through a 5 year all out war of a divorce and money was scarce. The house sold and I made an unsuccessful attempt to move to Florida with my then boyfriend. I was there less than a week before he kicked me out for my outlandish behavior when i drank. All I remember from that time are a few scenes- him cooking breakfast with a motorcycle helmet on, me drinking Bloody Mary's by the pool in the too bright morning light and taking a cab to his place drunk really late one night. I had no money for the cab fare and he turned me away because of my drunkenness. The cops came and I was arrested. When I claimed to be suicidal, they put me in a mental hospital for observation for 3 days. I came back from that one big Tampa debacle sometime in the spring and moved into a motel with my mother. She had $8000 left which she carried in her pocketbook in large bills. The $100, 000 that we had taken out of the bank 3 years prior one sunny afternoon had gone to lawyers and living expenses. We squandered through most of the $8000 just trying to live. I tried to work, but depression had me in its strangling grip and I couldn't contribute much of anything financially or otherwise. Spring turned to summer, to autumn and the holidays- my least favorite time of year. This year, instead of being in a 4000 square foot home, we were in a motel with hard floors and bright lights. I don't know how it happened, but we had no money. I scrapped together my mothers change, separating the silver coins out of the many pennies and managed to get together $1.60. I went down to the vending machine, my bare feet against the cold tile floor. I got pretzels and something else, I'm not sure what. I never felt so desolate in all my life; even at the mental institution in Tampa, I had more hope. Id like to say this is as worse as it got for me, but it wasn't. There was more to come and thank God I didn't know that then. Shorty after that, I lost another old flame due to my behavior when I drank- he came to pick me up one afternoon and I was bottomless in the outdoor pool. I fell one night on the way home from a bar in a black out and woke up bloodied with no idea what had happened. I later pieced some of it together. I spent a year in bed in a depression. I showered once a week and it took me nearly an hour to get the almost dreadlocks out of my long hair. I rarely went out and when I did it was to drink. My mom and I ate one meal a day- all we could afford on the alimony check my dad sent weekly. We didn't have a car so we got subs delivered from a shop nearby. Usually we split a large egg and cheese. We fought a lot, mostly because I couldn't get out of bed an my mother wanted me to get help. It was awful. I hated her but I had no where to go. Some nights I slept in the bathtub just to get some space from her. Looking back, I don't know how I survived all of this, but I did. Sometimes I couldn't sleep at night and there was nothing to do in the dark room while my mother snored gently in the next bed. These times were excruciating. I was alone in my miserable head and had no drink to comfort me. Sometimes I slept the day through even while my mother watched talk shows and complained of her plight to distant relatives on the phone. One time I remember the maids came in and they were all chatting. My mother wanted me to join the conversation and when I said "I don't feel like talking today", they all thought it was funny and laughed.

Meeting Charlie Kaufman

Last night I met Charlie Kaufman at a screening of his new movie (and directorial debut) in Harvard Square. The first thing I noticed about him as he walked down the aisle to the front of the theatre is that he is entirely normal looking, just an average guy you'd see walking down the street in Harvard Square on any given day. In fact, had I seen him walking down the street tonight, I wouldn't have even noticed him, much less stopped to realize "That's Charlie Kaufman."

I quickly noticed by his demeanor and body language that he was very uncomfortable in his skin and nervous, awkward really. It was also apparent once he started speaking that he is very sensitive and deep. He spoke about being damaged by movies that portrayed an unrealistic view of the world and relationships. He talked about how important it is to him to write the truth and that everything he writes is somewhat autobiographical (its impossible not to be, he says).
His new movie was great- full of human fragility, realness and dialogue to make you think and laugh, not to mention plenty of symbolism and hidden meanings. He refused to comment on the symbolism saying that what something symbolizes or means to him may not be what it means to us. He said he wants the movie to be a dialogue with the audience and that he's set it up so that if you watch it many times, you pick up on different things each time.

After the question and answer was over, I approached Charlie to get is autograph and a picture with him. Later, when I told a friend and she was in awe, I thought about this-how strange it is that as a society we look up to celebrities. I'm not sure if it's their fame or money or perceived power- or all of the above, but to us they seem untouchable. We wait in line for hours for an autograph, a chance to say "I love your work", a handshake, some piece of their celebrity energy that we can hold and take home with us, but in reality, they're no different than us.