My latest little thing to obsess about

Last night, I was on a popular social networking site, when I saw an acquaintance of mine online. We'd never chatted online before, but I impulsively decided to say hello.

We exchanged pleasantries, I said "How are you?" and the person responded, "Doing good. Brb, ok?"

That was the last I heard. I was online at least another hour after that. The person's icon showed that they were still online as well. But there was nothing. No response.

I just don't get it. I could handle someone saying, "I can't talk right now." I wouldn't even get upset if the person had said, "I don't feel comfortable talking with you online."

This is a person I see at least once a week, and we've chatted briefly on every occasion. They had even voluntarily offered to put in a good word for me at a company I was seeking employment at. Every interaction we've had convinced me that they saw me in a positive light.

Thanks to this weird, incomplete online exchange, my paranoid mind tries to convince me of several theories.

That perhaps the person thinks I'm mentally unbalanced and that they're only being nice to me, because it's a good idea to stay on the good side of the crazies.

That perhaps while dodging me, they were messaging some other friend of theirs, "That creepy crazy chick is on right now. She just tried to talk to me! What should I do?"

Now I'm worried that they secretly think ill of me. I don't know what to do about the next time I happen to see that person. Ignore what happened? Ask?

My natural inclination, given that I think that they think I'm unbalanced or crazy, is to feel embaressed that I've been inflicting my presence upon them. That I went so far as to friend them or try to talk to them, and they only went along with it because of a sense of social pressure, or out of fear of upsetting me. That perhaps I should avoid them.

I can't believe that one brief chat exchange has so rattled my views of myself, and made me feel so low. What is the outside perception others have of me? My close friends know the real me, but what about those others who only see me briefly? Am I one of those unsavory types, an undesirable?

Why did this happen? That's what I really want to know.

Well, isn't that just odd.

Yesterday, I was driving, and suddenly, I was overwhelmed with the need to cry, hot tears stinging my eyes. I dabbed at my eyes with my sleeve, and tried to continue talking nonchalantly with the kids as I chaffeured. I hoped they wouldn't notice, and they never seemed to.

How weird, I mused. I wonder why? I'd been perfectly fine, and then, bam! Tears!

Then today, I was watching a movie. A romantic comedy of all things. I don't usually dig chick flicks, but this one had me howling with laughter, watching certain scenes over and over, because it was that damn funny.

The next thing I knew, I was bent over double, racked with sobbing. A few tears came out and I just kept wailing and crying, but the whole episode probably lasted less than 5 seconds. As I dried my eyes, I wondered, Why am I crying?

Then, just like that, the tears dried up.

I really don't know or understand why. It's not "that time of the month". I wasn't thinking about anything even the slightest bit depressing or distressing. The second time I was in the midst of laughter when it happened. I don't know what emotion is bubbling up, or why it chooses the oddest times to do so.

I'm not worried about my sanity or mental health. Just honestly perplexed by these sudden outbursts that have all the unpredictibility and intensity of a summer storm. I'd hoped that by writing about it, I'd glean some insight as to why, but I'm still just as confused as when I'd begun.

Little Sister had to go

A few years back, my parents went on vacation at a popular beach, inviting the whole family along -- my brothers and their spouses and children, as well as my own little clan.

One night, my sister-in-law and I decided to have a Girl's Night Out. We kissed the little ones good-night, left our respective spouses in charge and decided to hit a local bar. As luck would have it, that bar was having a karaoke night.

I have a love/crazed fear of karaoke. Occasionally I feel brave enough to open the song book, pick something out, write and give my request to the dj before I chicken out. If I'm completely sober when I do this, the overwhelming stage fright gives me .... ahem... digestional issues. I'm not even kidding about that. But the intense thrill of singing onstage usually outweighs the fear of shitting my pants.

However, this night? I had a couple drinks. Though I grew increasingly nervous as the time approached, I was feeling fine, baby.

My name was finally called, and I got on that stage and had THE BEST karaoke experience of my life. I had chosen "Look At Little Sister" by Stevie Ray Vaughan. And I ROCKED it, absolutely, singing with such passion, fervor and depth, that I heard a shout of, "Sing it, sister!" from the black couple in the front row, who were rocking along with it.

Ordinarily, I do not mention race, because I believe that a person's skin color has no bearing on their worth as an individual human being. Though I am painting with the broad brush of generalization here, just like white teenagers know pop, many black people know the blues.

To me, even now, that couple's call of "Sing it, sister!" is the highest praise I have ever received from singing. I don't know that any compliment I could get would ever match that for me. From what I've read about SRV, he also considered it high praise if his music and style was called black.

I finished the song and left the stage to wild applause, and somehow my trembling knees carried me back to where my sister-in-law was sitting. Who hadn't even noticed I was gone, or heard the song. Distracted by trying to decline advances from another patron, she'd missed the whole thing.

The excitement didn't stop there. We finished our drinks, and left the bar. At some point the SIL and I realized we both had to pee. Really bad. And we were still blocks away from our hotel. There were no stores or gas stations open nearby. We tried asking a clerk at another hotel if we could use their restroom, and the response was negatory.

So, driven by necessity, and the desire for revenge, we snuck onto the beach behind the hotel, and furtively glanced around to see if anyone was present.

And that, my friends, is how I found myself dropping trou and pissing on the beach with my sister-in-law at 3 a.m.