I try, I do.  I try to write.  I try to focus.  I try to remember the snippets I whip out in my head.  Like walking to the grocery store this afternoon, a squirrel up on a power line barely missed me with most of an apple.  Clearly he just lost grip of it.  It was funny as hell. I stopped and laughed out loud.

I try to focus, to remember.  I watched as the room filled this morning, not one person under 50 save myself, and maybe the Rabbi:  the Latina who rarely speaks, the Eastern European writer woman who insists she knows what it means, the recent widow, the lawyer/shrink couple (he's so damn dapper and she's a giant ball of blargh), the brotherhood leader who ages before my eyes, the guy who drools and never knows when he's left food on his face, the State Dept woman with heavy eyeliner and beautiful hats (she's one of two who stay for services and she sings like an angel in my ear -- the drooler has the other ear and he's completely tone deaf), the beautiful elegant and super quirky school teacher, the tall man who bends with age... oh wait, there is the guy who just got married, he's under 50.

Something I should be saying... there's a nugget of a problem that my brain is working on and it's not quite done with it.  It has something to do with personal justice -- not how you act towards others, but how you act towards yourself.  I think that affects how you treat others, eventually.

It has something to do with being whole, feeling whole, and what it takes to do that.  It has to do with how we're all on Facebook, comparing our lives, defining our sucesses and wondering if we measure up.  I'm single -- and for me that might just be sucess.  I broke the six-figure salary barrier -- possibly the last person who worked at Concert who is still employed in the industry to do so, but nevertheless.

It has to do with loving yourself.  With not sabotaging yourself.

It might be a fix for me... it might be a fix for you... or it might just be more questions, leading to an undefinable answer.

I know this:  I wish us all the strength to be all of who we are.  I wish us all peace of mind, even as we forge through the brambly life.  I wish us all patience, and length of time to allow us to appreciate what we have.  I wish we should discover that we have not only enough, that we have all.  Kein y'hi ratzon, my this be G-d's will1

Ew!  No!  Jeez!  C'mon people.

Twice in two days someone has told me that I'm psychic.  PS I hate this word.  Every time I say it in my head, my mother appears like a mirage.  And then I have to kick her ass.

Both times I was laying down How The World Is, according to me, clearly.  But it resonated enough with my audiences for them to think me either wise, or having had some sort of "class" on it.  LMAO.  Yes, How to Survive Living with Sociopaths 101.  Besides which, I've got a friggin' doctorate in that shit.