There comes a defining moment in every women’s life.
If they’re lucky, they only see it one time. Luckier still, none at all. But few of us live the fairy tale romance of marrying our high school sweetheart, living happily ever after, and never having a broken heart.
There comes a moment when you realize, he’s just not going to call. And try as you might, you can’t stop looking at your phone, hoping every call is him. And then you realize it’s your best friend, and you’re too disappointed to be grateful that she’s calling to provide you with wonderful distraction. You hope every beep is a text message, even though you know his plan doesn’t provide them, and he doesn’t particularly like them.
There comes a moment when you realize that you weren’t enough. He couldn’t look at you with the same light in his eyes that you show in yours. His chest couldn’t fill with the same warmth that seems to want to burst through your own flesh. Your words could never make him smile, or offer comfort, or advice. You can’t be what he needs.
There comes a moment when you realize that you let yourself go. Even though you promised yourself you weren’t going to fall, you weren’t going to care, and you weren’t going to see this as anything more than a temporary distraction. Somewhere along the way, it started to matter. How could you have done this to yourself? Again? What happened to all of our promises to never be blinded again? How could you have forgotten the nights you spent crying, shattered and filled with self doubt, only to wind up in the same position once again?
There comes a moment when the anger starts to swell within the pain. Anger that he didn’t even have the common decency to man up and tell you that it just wasn’t going to work out. Anger that he took the silent door, the simple avoidance, the hope that if he ignores you long enough, you’ll just go away. But mostly it’s anger at yourself, because you realize what a fool you’ve been. You fooled yourself into believing you’d found the one person who could treat you well, and who you would give your whole heart to. Of all the lies that we tell, it’s only the ones we tell ourselves that really matter.
There comes a moment when you realize that it was over before it even began.
Welcome to my moment.
Friday, June 22, 2007
Moments
There comes a defining moment in every women’s life.
If they’re lucky, they only see it one time. Luckier still, none at all. But few of us live the fairy tale romance of marrying our high school sweetheart, living happily ever after, and never having a broken heart.
There comes a moment when you realize, he’s just not going to call. And try as you might, you can’t stop looking at your phone, hoping every call is him. And then you realize it’s your best friend, and you’re too disappointed to be grateful that she’s calling to provide you with wonderful distraction. You hope every beep is a text message, even though you know his plan doesn’t provide them, and he doesn’t particularly like them.
There comes a moment when you realize that you weren’t enough. He couldn’t look at you with the same light in his eyes that you show in yours. His chest couldn’t fill with the same warmth that seems to want to burst through your own flesh. Your words could never make him smile, or offer comfort, or advice. You can’t be what he needs.
There comes a moment when you realize that you let yourself go. Even though you promised yourself you weren’t going to fall, you weren’t going to care, and you weren’t going to see this as anything more than a temporary distraction. Somewhere along the way, it started to matter. How could you have done this to yourself? Again? What happened to all of our promises to never be blinded again? How could you have forgotten the nights you spent crying, shattered and filled with self doubt, only to wind up in the same position once again?
There comes a moment when the anger starts to swell within the pain. Anger that he didn’t even have the common decency to man up and tell you that it just wasn’t going to work out. Anger that he took the silent door, the simple avoidance, the hope that if he ignores you long enough, you’ll just go away. But mostly it’s anger at yourself, because you realize what a fool you’ve been. You fooled yourself into believing you’d found the one person who could treat you well, and who you would give your whole heart to. Of all the lies that we tell, it’s only the ones we tell ourselves that really matter.
There comes a moment when you realize that it was over before it even began.
Welcome to my moment.
If they’re lucky, they only see it one time. Luckier still, none at all. But few of us live the fairy tale romance of marrying our high school sweetheart, living happily ever after, and never having a broken heart.
There comes a moment when you realize, he’s just not going to call. And try as you might, you can’t stop looking at your phone, hoping every call is him. And then you realize it’s your best friend, and you’re too disappointed to be grateful that she’s calling to provide you with wonderful distraction. You hope every beep is a text message, even though you know his plan doesn’t provide them, and he doesn’t particularly like them.
There comes a moment when you realize that you weren’t enough. He couldn’t look at you with the same light in his eyes that you show in yours. His chest couldn’t fill with the same warmth that seems to want to burst through your own flesh. Your words could never make him smile, or offer comfort, or advice. You can’t be what he needs.
There comes a moment when you realize that you let yourself go. Even though you promised yourself you weren’t going to fall, you weren’t going to care, and you weren’t going to see this as anything more than a temporary distraction. Somewhere along the way, it started to matter. How could you have done this to yourself? Again? What happened to all of our promises to never be blinded again? How could you have forgotten the nights you spent crying, shattered and filled with self doubt, only to wind up in the same position once again?
There comes a moment when the anger starts to swell within the pain. Anger that he didn’t even have the common decency to man up and tell you that it just wasn’t going to work out. Anger that he took the silent door, the simple avoidance, the hope that if he ignores you long enough, you’ll just go away. But mostly it’s anger at yourself, because you realize what a fool you’ve been. You fooled yourself into believing you’d found the one person who could treat you well, and who you would give your whole heart to. Of all the lies that we tell, it’s only the ones we tell ourselves that really matter.
There comes a moment when you realize that it was over before it even began.
Welcome to my moment.
Tuesday, June 5, 2007
More Than Meets The Eye
It seems like lately, we've been inundated with old ideas redistributed as fresh ones. From Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Masters Of The Universe, My Little Ponies, to Rainbow Brite, the childhood pleasures of the 80's are slowly becoming the childhood wonders of the 00-generation.
I have mixed feelings about this phenomenon. It seems the copies are never as good as the original; have you seen the size of the heads on the new Rainbow Brite Posse? However, I was giddy with excitement at the prospect of going on a date to TMNT: The Movie. (Which, for the record, kicked ass.)
Sometimes, the past being recreated for the present can form an interesting bridge between the generations.
I had lunch with my nephew today. (He's 5). Somewhere in between the grilled cheese sandwiches and endless hours of Nick Jr, he reached across the table to spin around the bottle of his Sierra Mist. I watched as his eyes grew wide.
"Whoa! Transformers!" he exclaimed.
I gave him that Look, the one that says "you're young and cute, but I have no idea what you're talking about", and reached down to see what, in fact, he was talking about. It turns out that Sierra Mist is having a Transformers promotion, and had the words and logo on the side of the bottle.
"Yep, Transformers." I confirmed. "You like Transformers?"
"I LOVE Transformers! You can turn them into ANYTHING you WANT!"
(Well, that's not really the case, but I wasn't going to break his heart with reality)
"Which one's your favorite?" I asked instead. He closed his eyes to think about it for a few seconds.
"Ummmm...ummmmmm...the BIG one!"
"Optimus Prime?"
"YEAH! Him! And you can make them WHATEVER you WANT! There are PLANES, and CARS...and...and...the BIG one!"
I laughed with him for a minute and listened to him describe each Transformer with more passion and excitement that I've discussed anything with lately. And then it hit me.
There is a really good chance that someone had this same conversation with me about 20 years ago. I loved Transformers. I remember when it took forever and a day to put them together, and you really did need an instruction manual to make them transform. I thought they were the best toy ever, and here's my nephew, 20 years later, looking at the same toy with the same amazement.
Right there, in that moment, there was nowhere else I would have rather been. Say what I might about the bastardization of many of our childhood pastimes, the Transformers reincarnation managed to brighten the day of two people; one still a kid, and one who will always be a kid at heart.
Not bad for a plastic and metal plaything.
I have mixed feelings about this phenomenon. It seems the copies are never as good as the original; have you seen the size of the heads on the new Rainbow Brite Posse? However, I was giddy with excitement at the prospect of going on a date to TMNT: The Movie. (Which, for the record, kicked ass.)
Sometimes, the past being recreated for the present can form an interesting bridge between the generations.
I had lunch with my nephew today. (He's 5). Somewhere in between the grilled cheese sandwiches and endless hours of Nick Jr, he reached across the table to spin around the bottle of his Sierra Mist. I watched as his eyes grew wide.
"Whoa! Transformers!" he exclaimed.
I gave him that Look, the one that says "you're young and cute, but I have no idea what you're talking about", and reached down to see what, in fact, he was talking about. It turns out that Sierra Mist is having a Transformers promotion, and had the words and logo on the side of the bottle.
"Yep, Transformers." I confirmed. "You like Transformers?"
"I LOVE Transformers! You can turn them into ANYTHING you WANT!"
(Well, that's not really the case, but I wasn't going to break his heart with reality)
"Which one's your favorite?" I asked instead. He closed his eyes to think about it for a few seconds.
"Ummmm...ummmmmm...the BIG one!"
"Optimus Prime?"
"YEAH! Him! And you can make them WHATEVER you WANT! There are PLANES, and CARS...and...and...the BIG one!"
I laughed with him for a minute and listened to him describe each Transformer with more passion and excitement that I've discussed anything with lately. And then it hit me.
There is a really good chance that someone had this same conversation with me about 20 years ago. I loved Transformers. I remember when it took forever and a day to put them together, and you really did need an instruction manual to make them transform. I thought they were the best toy ever, and here's my nephew, 20 years later, looking at the same toy with the same amazement.
Right there, in that moment, there was nowhere else I would have rather been. Say what I might about the bastardization of many of our childhood pastimes, the Transformers reincarnation managed to brighten the day of two people; one still a kid, and one who will always be a kid at heart.
Not bad for a plastic and metal plaything.
More Than Meets The Eye
It seems like lately, we've been inundated with old ideas redistributed as fresh ones. From Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Masters Of The Universe, My Little Ponies, to Rainbow Brite, the childhood pleasures of the 80's are slowly becoming the childhood wonders of the 00-generation.
I have mixed feelings about this phenomenon. It seems the copies are never as good as the original; have you seen the size of the heads on the new Rainbow Brite Posse? However, I was giddy with excitement at the prospect of going on a date to TMNT: The Movie. (Which, for the record, kicked ass.)
Sometimes, the past being recreated for the present can form an interesting bridge between the generations.
I had lunch with my nephew today. (He's 5). Somewhere in between the grilled cheese sandwiches and endless hours of Nick Jr, he reached across the table to spin around the bottle of his Sierra Mist. I watched as his eyes grew wide.
"Whoa! Transformers!" he exclaimed.
I gave him that Look, the one that says "you're young and cute, but I have no idea what you're talking about", and reached down to see what, in fact, he was talking about. It turns out that Sierra Mist is having a Transformers promotion, and had the words and logo on the side of the bottle.
"Yep, Transformers." I confirmed. "You like Transformers?"
"I LOVE Transformers! You can turn them into ANYTHING you WANT!"
(Well, that's not really the case, but I wasn't going to break his heart with reality)
"Which one's your favorite?" I asked instead. He closed his eyes to think about it for a few seconds.
"Ummmm...ummmmmm...the BIG one!"
"Optimus Prime?"
"YEAH! Him! And you can make them WHATEVER you WANT! There are PLANES, and CARS...and...and...the BIG one!"
I laughed with him for a minute and listened to him describe each Transformer with more passion and excitement that I've discussed anything with lately. And then it hit me.
There is a really good chance that someone had this same conversation with me about 20 years ago. I loved Transformers. I remember when it took forever and a day to put them together, and you really did need an instruction manual to make them transform. I thought they were the best toy ever, and here's my nephew, 20 years later, looking at the same toy with the same amazement.
Right there, in that moment, there was nowhere else I would have rather been. Say what I might about the bastardization of many of our childhood pastimes, the Transformers reincarnation managed to brighten the day of two people; one still a kid, and one who will always be a kid at heart.
Not bad for a plastic and metal plaything.
I have mixed feelings about this phenomenon. It seems the copies are never as good as the original; have you seen the size of the heads on the new Rainbow Brite Posse? However, I was giddy with excitement at the prospect of going on a date to TMNT: The Movie. (Which, for the record, kicked ass.)
Sometimes, the past being recreated for the present can form an interesting bridge between the generations.
I had lunch with my nephew today. (He's 5). Somewhere in between the grilled cheese sandwiches and endless hours of Nick Jr, he reached across the table to spin around the bottle of his Sierra Mist. I watched as his eyes grew wide.
"Whoa! Transformers!" he exclaimed.
I gave him that Look, the one that says "you're young and cute, but I have no idea what you're talking about", and reached down to see what, in fact, he was talking about. It turns out that Sierra Mist is having a Transformers promotion, and had the words and logo on the side of the bottle.
"Yep, Transformers." I confirmed. "You like Transformers?"
"I LOVE Transformers! You can turn them into ANYTHING you WANT!"
(Well, that's not really the case, but I wasn't going to break his heart with reality)
"Which one's your favorite?" I asked instead. He closed his eyes to think about it for a few seconds.
"Ummmm...ummmmmm...the BIG one!"
"Optimus Prime?"
"YEAH! Him! And you can make them WHATEVER you WANT! There are PLANES, and CARS...and...and...the BIG one!"
I laughed with him for a minute and listened to him describe each Transformer with more passion and excitement that I've discussed anything with lately. And then it hit me.
There is a really good chance that someone had this same conversation with me about 20 years ago. I loved Transformers. I remember when it took forever and a day to put them together, and you really did need an instruction manual to make them transform. I thought they were the best toy ever, and here's my nephew, 20 years later, looking at the same toy with the same amazement.
Right there, in that moment, there was nowhere else I would have rather been. Say what I might about the bastardization of many of our childhood pastimes, the Transformers reincarnation managed to brighten the day of two people; one still a kid, and one who will always be a kid at heart.
Not bad for a plastic and metal plaything.
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