Discretion

A family secret was recently revealed to me, by accident. It was assumed that I already knew, because the person near me who was originally told is assumed to be really unpracticed at discretion. I am heartbroken about that. I firmly believe that anyone who considers him or herself a good friend should be an expert at discretion, and that anyone who is asked to keep a secret should do so, to the best of his/her ability, out of respect for the other person and their relationship. I've been blessed to learn the importance of discretion, by the best school in the universe - the School of Eating Shit.

It can be incredibly difficult when the people near or around you have no discretion. I learned some years ago that Sparkle is incapable of keeping a secret. Much like myself, she has no poker face. However, as most others, she has been known to also use the information not as blackmail material, or for necessarily dark purposes, but as leverage for other relationships - whether to salvage them, or to create a stronger bond with another. While I admit I have done this in the past, I no longer honor such motivation.

While others may not consider this such an important skill in the realm of friendship, I consider that it is among the utmost. I wish people wore their ingredients on their shirts, and this way we, none of us, would fall victim to the indiscreet, shallow, malevolent a-hole. Within the last year I bared my soul to someone I hoped would become a really good friend, but, alas, it was not to be. This person was, either not interested in the least, in being a good friend, or completely incapable of being discreet. So now, the joy and embarrassment and shame and fragility that I kept wrapped up so tightly for so long is fodder for jokes amongst this person and his/her friends.

I have learned not to think about it, or the heartbreak that came with it.

Fear Does Not Exist in This Dojo, Does It?

So, end of Week 2 in Boot Camp. I still look ridiculous, I'm sure, and I'm still the slowest one in class, but I've realized, I don't care anymore. Maybe it's just circumstantial, and in any other scenario, like work, or family, I would feel self-conscious, and introspect and feel competitive, but for some reason I don't. Maybe it's because I'm getting older and I care less what other people think about my weaknesses. It's amazing. Is that what happens as we get older? Is this what wisdom is? Caring less and less what other people think of us, embracing our own strengths and weaknesses, and, on the side, like french fries - or maybe something less generally appealing - fruit cocktail - offering our unsolicited opinion - whether racist or sexist or whatever it may be or seem?

I feel GREAT, too. Acknowledge I'm saying this 90 minutes after my class has ended. Who knows how I'll be tomorrow morning? But I would do it every single day, if I knew this feeling would last, and if I knew I could afford it. Please, someone, remind me, when I start to brood, what a difference exercise makes in my general outlook, and then punch me in the arm (today I like my face). Only 8 hours ago I was feeling terrible, because I was so ungrateful for my life, and so afraid to move forward. I am renewed. At least for the next few hours. Hahahaha.

Here's a place I've recently found solace. It's a Bob Dylan song, covered by Joan Baez.



Peace. Love. Courage.
V.

I Don't Know What Happened

I was a happy girl this morning, when I went to work...really proud of myself for having survived my 4th Boot Camp class last night - for having thrown caution to the wind and not being self-conscious despite my Napoleon-Dynamitesque run...and it all went to pot (not even the good kind). I went with some coworkers to have a drink to celebrate a project win, and then hopped into the car to meet Sparkle for the blue hair special in Burbank - rib eye steak, with soup, salad, and choice of ice cream or jello for dessert. JELLO! I can't believe they serve that in restaurants anymore. Seriously.

Anyhow, for someone who only two years ago said to me she didn't think her email had the "reply all" option, Sparkle certainly does love her Blackberry. She's the worst offender I know when it comes to mobile phone etiquette. We have a mutual friend who says that if she took a call from a suicidal friend and heard the other line ringing, she'd tell them to hold on. I believe it.

Sparkle proceeded to show me an oddly-written email from a friend of hers, after their "girlfriends' weekend", and I saw another email "Save the Date" from a mutual friend in her inbox. It's my own fault for not minding my own damn business, and unfortunately for me, I'm still 7 years old, too much of the time. I asked if I could read it and Sparkle, assuming I was copied on said email, said "yes". It was an email for the 70th birthday party of a family friend, to which I was clearly not invited and even as I type it still TOTALLY GETS UNDER MY SKIN. Ya know, I don't like to think of myself as someone who deserves special treatment by any means, and I respect the right of someone to invite whom they like to their own birthday, but why the fuck didn't they want to include me? It makes me feel like every kind word or gesture of theirs is just lip service to please or placate my mother and it nauseates me. They have every right to dislike me outright, and somehow I feel like I could accept that much more easily than what I perceive as a conditional appreciation. Conditional appreciation is the kind of courtesy extended to the high-maintenance and/or ridiculous, like my brother, the Armchair Anarchist. I HATE to be categorized with my brother.

It's really unfortunate that I genuinely enjoy their company, as well, find them fascinating and generous and kind to others, and I love their children. So I guess what I'm dealing with is a bruised ego. Wow. I really am seven years old.