I just made friends with a woman so vivacious I want to cry (in a good way). She is so open and effusive. She seems to spew sunlight and energy. Let's rechristen her Verve for now. Verve is a year older than me; is medium height; thin build; and has hair that was probably originally light brown but is currently a bright red that matches and broadcasts her personality.
What happened: I was crossing the street to the train station and I see a beautifully dressed woman out of the corner of my eye. I turn to look at her and she makes eye contact with me, grins hugely and sincerely, and says, "Hi!!!" I grin back, then we keep walking. She also ends up on the train platform, standing next to me. I look at her again and she smiles and giggles and I giggle and say, "sorry, but I really like your outfit!" She beams and says, "it's fine, that's a great complement to start the day!" (p.s. I'm probably totally paraphrasing all of the things. I remember the meaning of everything we said to each other perfectly; I'm just fuzzy on the details, since it's morning and I was more interested in enjoying the conversation than remembering it.) Then we started talking. She told me a good chunk of her residential history before we got on the train. I found out where she was born, how long she lived outside of California, and part of her father's employment history. I found out she went to Catholic school. Then we got on the train. We sat next to each other and continued talking. Eventually I found out she's an actress. Which totally explains her openness, energy, and presence. Also the fact that we clicked. I don't think it was her outfit that drew my attention; it was her radiance. Anywho, I wanted to tell you about this exciting person. I wanted to tell you about her liveliness. I wanted to tell you about her curiosity and energy. I wanted to tell you that she was so bright she filled me with light and warmth and love for the world. I wanted to tell you that she made my day. At 7 o'clock in the morning. And Verve, if you're reading this, I'm very glad I met you. Even if I never see you again, you made my life happier and brighter.
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So my boyfriend bought me a Sunnydale High gym class t-shirt for Christmas. You know, this one:
"Hi! How are you?"
"Fine. How are you?" "I'm good." That word: fine. What a layered thing to say. What most people mean when they say "fine" in response to an inquiry into how they're doing is, "I can tell you don't actually care" or, "I don't want to explain how I'm really doing." We all know this. We all accept this as an answer. This one little word speaks volumes. Sometimes I think it would be grand if people stopped automatically inquiring into each others' well-being. What if we only asked when we cared? "How are you" (or, alternatively, "how's it going?") is constantly tacked on to any greeting. I find myself saying it, this flippant question, this conditioned word-vomit, this now-meaningless phrase, and I laugh at myself. I think, "what if that person actually told me how they are doing? Would I really want to hear it?" That's kind of a callous question to ask yourself, because you really hope that your answer would always be "yes" and you find yourself ashamed of how often the answer is really "no." "Fine" is the guarded response to that indifference. A fun way to catch people off-guard is to throw different words and phrases in there, but not go into any detail. "How are you?" "Deeply dissatisfied." "How are you?" "Super excited!" "How are you?" "Hungry." Some people are put off, others become intrigued and delve into why you are feeling that way, and my favorite people laugh, consider the answer, nod their heads, accept it, and move on. When you spend months working closely with people on an artistic endeavor, you and your colleagues build a special bond. This bond is not necessarily based on sitting down and having soul-baring, deep conversations. It is a relationship that slowly unfolds while you expose yourself through your work. That is how you get to know each other. Then you bond through ribald jokes over beers. This bond grows while you geek out over nuances in your art form, while you watch each other rehearse, one watcher stroking another’s hair absentmindedly. It is very comfortable, it is open, it is vulnerable, it is inappropriate, it is highly entertaining. You can grab this person’s breast or ass and it isn’t weird. You sometimes speak to each other in strange, gibberish noises. You have inside jokes. Personal space is irrelevant. What you have with these people is a wonderful and different breed of love.
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AuthorMaayan is a Manhattan-based opera singer. Archives
January 2019
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