Chance Encounters II...

And Salt Lake City is blanketed in white....

Again!!!

I'm going to say it. I'm truly looking forward to January being over. For the past four days I've been chiseling sections of ice off the alleyway that is the driveway to my house (and surrounding neighbors). Each day, two hours of slamming ice with a plastic snow shovel in the hope I won't slide into a neighbors car. I'm waiting for warmer weather, for walks in the Spring night air. For a walk in general. This month has been one of those where I feel like a trapped animal. Only, I have hot coco mix to keep me from going insane.

But every now and then, I escape. Escape to the local coffee shop and sit mingled with others looking for a warm place other than their home. Looking for conversations with real people versus the glowing characters on a T.V. screen. And every now and then you get one of those moments where the snow, grey skies, and inversion all melt away because of the simple act of interacting with other human beings.

As I walked into my coffee shop today there was a young girl, no older than three, getting bundled up by her mother. Puffy-warm jacket on, mittens in place, and knitted winter hat being adjusted. The girl pointed at me and said, "I like that girl." As her mom didn't respond, she pointed and stated again, "I like her."

Sometimes that's all you need. Someone you don't know telling you that you're alright in there book. And so I sit in the warmth of the coffee shop, as the snow descends on the roads and sidewalks, smiling. Someone likes me. :)

A Chorus Line of Kickers...

It's been in my head lately. Maybe it's because of all the employment sites I've been searching, signing up with, and the mass of lingering silence from the multitude of applications sent into the Ethernet. Whatever it is, the song is on repeat in my mind. You know the one:

"Who am I anyways?

Am I my resume?

That is a picture… of a person I don't know..."

Repeat people. Wherever I go, whatever I'm doing, the lyrics of "I Hope I Get It" from The Chorus Line kicks into my thoughts and starts singing. It's driving me crazy, making me constantly question who I am, what I want, what I'm doing…at every moment of the day. It’s exhausting. So instead of finding answers, I curl into my bed, pull my hoody over my head, and sleep in the attempt to drown the voice in dreamland. 

Now I get this is not the most productive practice. But I figure, configuring a line of friends and doing kicks in unison wouldn’t really help either (it might be fun, but I don’t think my knee joints would appreciate the minute of laughter I would get out of our non synchronized dance moves). Instead of high kicks in this depressing January inversion--known to all Salt Lake citizens--I kicked myself in the *!*, and got out of dodge.

A three hour drive in mountains with blue skies, home cooked meals from the Mom, and a lot of laughter over the conversations (I swear) only my family has, got me out of the smoggy-foggy-funk. In other words, I got out of bed—took off the hoody—and started some movement with a few pushups.

Lets face it. I don’t have the answers. God “I Hope I Get It” is in high gear. I’m still searching; as always—if you’ve read any of my other posts. 

But I figured out something. I’m not a follower. Whatever I do, I want to do my way (and yes, I’m hoping Frank Sinatra will demand a smack down with the chorus line of kickers in my mind and take over the tune stuck in my head).