Even through the haze I sometimes lose myself in, there are people, humans, which still somehow manage to nibble through.
Yesterday evening, after a handful of errands and an attempt to turn monstres into purse-carrying monstres (although I didn't bring it to work today since I can still wear my jacket and use the pockets for stuffing), we wandered to the Film Buff, a tiny, charming, and coincidentally really nearby video store.
They have the entire Criterion collection and handfuls upon handfuls of SF and Foreign films, but only one tiny wall of new releases and Sandler-esque mental novocaine.
I like it. And after yesterday evening, I like it a whole lot -- when asking for the Jean Reno/Luc Besson film (Wasabi) turned into a conversation of french film in general, even the tiny silly ones that are only cult films in the outskirts of Paris or in the depths of Lyon. (La Banlieu, really)
Chatting and comparing and his patience with my sketchy recollection of titles and themes (not being a true film buff I can't even remember actor names) and when he ordered us to wait while he ran to fetch his personal copy of Wasabi to simply loan us, with requests for what we thought and for the unearthing of the rest of the list of films that I was subjected to in France...
Leaving the store I was charmed by the universe, one tiny conversation with a stranger and all of a sudden my hope for humanity was slightly more solid than earlier in that particularly rough Monday.
Why rough? Because I am being pulled in so many directions at work, and the only direction that I don't like so much is the one that my boss is insisting upon me.
But I'm getting lots of good advice, and a few of the "friends" I politicked are offering me other venues.
I'll be okay, and have survived greater unpleasantness.
Tonight I run to the opera with yet another lady who gives me reason to believe in the universe with her very sweetness, and hopefully get around to organizing that white water kayaking weekend.
Anyone interested in joining us the weekend of May 24th on the Ottawa river for a beginner's course and lots of endorphins?
Some days I get bogged down, and everything starts to lose meaning.
THose days are a product of how much I've done, am doing, the directions tugging at my sleeves are a sign of being wanted.
On mornings like this one, when I cheat a little with a half-cup of coffee and allow myself to take time from the race to ponder certain people that shine brighter than most...
On these mornings I remember those things.
ANd they are never that far away.