The ever-prolific Annie B posed a great question in her status, "Where are all the good men dead: in the heart or in the head?" I love 'Grosse Pointe Blank'!!  Sometimes this questions slips into the darker recesses of my head and lays dormant there until someone brings it back to light!  

I loved my Philosophy classes in undergrad.  So, my natural inclination is to ask if a man is dead in the heart or the head, is he a good man? I would go with no.  I would think that to be dead in the heart (making one heartless), would not render a good man.  And to be dead in the head (having no thought) definitely wouldn't yield a good man.  I can honestly say that the best men are neither dead in heart or head.  Occasionally, a tad off kilter in one aspect or the other, but never totally lacking in one or the other.  And most men are actually adept at letting heart or head compensate for what they lack.  At least the cognitively capable ones are.  Why would you engage a man that's anything less?

Don't Stand So Close To Me

I love people.  I love watching people and studying their behavior.  Most people have no idea how entertaining they are, their mannerisms, their idiosyncrasies...those little things that make them unique.  However--I am not always so eager to let others break my fourth wall!  I know I'm a hypocrite.  That's just the way I am, love me.  

Have you ever noticed someone everyday or often?  Someone you see in passing on the street, at church, or at the grocery store.  How weird is it when you actually meet that person and they become someone you know?  You lose your anonymity.  That's okay in some cases, but I prefer to evaluate things on a daily basis.  Sometimes I want to know you, other times I don't.  I already know I'm hard to get along with.  I just hope you know it too, *winking*.  Am I worth the trouble? Hardly.  Just kidding.  I just like to have space.  Once we lose our anonymity and you learn how to spell my name correctly, I'm a great person to have around.  Just don't stand too close to me.  Don't ask me too many questions, and don't ask for hugs.  I know I ask for a lot, but I give tenfold.  If you really want to hug me, I'll evaluate it on a need-be basis.  

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful boy

I was shocked towards the end of September 2007 when Jamie called me.  Jamie never calls me, never answers my calls--that's a whole other blog--but when Jamie called, I answered the phone hastily, expecting the worse.  He was very cheerful and lighthearted which made me even more suspicious.  "Well," he says, drawing out the process of communication even more, "Anna is expecting!"  I was floored! Sophia hadn't turned one yet!  "Sophia's going to be dethroned already?!" I was shaking my head in disbelief.  And yelling at the top of my lungs.  

Jordan and Anna were due to find out whether they were having a boy or a girl the day before Thanksgiving.  Jamie already knew he was going to be this baby's godfather and he was pulling for a boy.  The day before Thanksgiving, I was at school with my mom and I got a call from Jamie.  He was a man of few words, "I'm going to be a godfather."  With that, I knew it was a boy!  Jordan called not 30 minutes later and I said, "I already know it's a boy!" "Did Jamie tell you?" "Well..he didn't but I could tell by what he didn't say.  It doesn't matter, I'm so happy for you!!"  "Joseph William Levinson will be making his appearance in April."

Yeah right! Ha! That's what you all sad sports thought.  Joe made a point to prove us wrong.  After venturing to New York to see the White Rabbits, I got a call from Jordan saying that Anna's water had broken--she was 33 weeks that day.  After trying tocolytics, Jordan called again saying that they were going to let Anna labor through.  We had a long NICU chat and I let him know that the determining factor of what happened to Joe was what happened when he was born.  How much respiratory support would he need?  After I scared him half to death with the possibilities of laryngoscopes and ET tubes, Joe came out perfectly pink, weighing 5 lbs 6 oz.  Oh Joe! Say it ain't so!!

Joseph was born on a Saturday and I had to work that night.  When I came home, I called to check on Joe and Anna and Jordan said he needed to talk to me.  I cringed as my stomach flipped over.  "We would like you to be Joe's godmother, " and I screamed! Anna laughed and said she could hear me through the phone.  Through temporary elation I forgot that Jamie was the godfather.  Thus began the war on Joe and trying to win his affections!  I came home for Easter and met him for the first time, just a peanut. 

Today you are one year old! Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful boy.

Stop! The Words You Say May Hurt Someone

Darling take it slow, or someday you'll be all alone! Sing, Michael! I couldn't get that song out of my head as I thought about the title.  Anyway...everyday I find something more remarkable about people and how they relate to each other.  When someone speaks to you, how much do you filter out?  What stays with you, what gets left behind, and what goes in one ear and out the other? Are the words people say further complicated by the nonverbal cues that go along with what's being said?

It's no secret that I'm not the easiest person to get along with *chuckling*.  Sometimes I will stop at nothing to annoy, confuse and disgruntle whomever my victim is at the time.  While I am immature, I'm not without a conscience.  I feel guilt and remorse--just not often.  I'm sure it's all an ancient defense mechanism.  People fail to realize at times that their words hurt, or at least strike a nerve.  Words make you think, feel and react.  Words can make someone smile, cry, laugh or key your car.  Words can resound within you for days or flush fast through your system as quickly as the blood circulates through your body.  Words can start a friendship and build it over time, or end one in 30 seconds or less.  They can be the foundation of good things to come or bad things past.  Choose your words wisely.  Measure your intent carefully because once you say something, you can't take it back.  You can only hope that the person on the receiving end will allow you another chance to converse.  

Sleevegate and other Ramblings..

I've tried seven different times to construct a blog entry today.  It just isn't working for me.  Most likely, it's because I keep getting so annoyed with what's on my mind.  

I got on the Huffington Post today and read about 'Sleevegate'.  Sleevegate is the term used to describe the chaos Michelle Obama has caused in baring her arms in regards to her fashion choices.  I have to wonder why this is a controversy when I can name 10-20 people with no health insurance in less than 20 seconds and I can't even think about owning property in the District of Columbia as the median cost of a house is still sitting between  $475-600K.

Who is concerned with Michelle Obama's arms?  I'd like to know what exercises I can do to tone mine up a little bit.  Were they expecting her arms to look like flabby chicken wings?  When Jackie O ruled the roost at 1600 Pennsylvania Ave NW, sleeveless was the style.  And everyone integrated part of that style into their own; shift dresses, pillbox hats and pearls.  It would be nice to see everyone take some part of Michelle Obama's style and make it part of their own for the time being instead of hating on the woman's arms.  

I don't know why I'm surprised by 'Sleevegate'.  This was a concept of importance, just as 'The Bachelor' finale was last night, *cackling*.  Hmmm, where do I start with the overbronzed fete that is 'The Bachelor'? I'll probably come back to it later, but I'm starting to feel a bit offended.  Like I did when I saw, 'He's Just Not That Into You'.  I'm hoping that most saw that movie for what it was--a piece of fluff for girls to go see together.  But anyway, I'm starting to think that maybe the media doesn't think women can handle anything of actual importance.  Maybe we can only handle dating, fashion and reality romance.  

I'll be the first to admit that sometimes that's all I want to see.  But most often than not, I get glib and annoyed after partaking in it.  Sometimes I want to believe that my most difficult decision I will make that day will be what color nail polish I'll wear.  But I'm not usually allowed to operate that way.  I have a husband, a job, and a brain.