Friday, October 30, 2009

Finding piece

There's something about things falling into place that just illuminates all the other things that are still in disarray.

It's like a 1,000-piece puzzle, with only the edges assembled.
We may immediately feel as if we've accomplished something, but in the end we're left with just a big empty box.

We can become frustrated with our clean edges and carved out future because sometimes it seems like that empty box, the outline waiting for more, is just... life.

A series of pieces that surely have a place in the "whole" but pieces that also need to be just so in order for everything around them to work out.

And so, we fill our puzzle, one piece at a time, hoping the bigger decisions are enough to anchor our futures in something tangible.

Hoping our edges are strong enough to withstand all the rest.

As we check off our accomplishments, it's obvious to see how we got there, what pieces had to fall into place in order for the 1,000-piece puzzle to begin to make sense.

But, as each piece slides into it's appropriate space, any sense of accomplishment is undermined by the other pieces—in an overwhelming pile—coaxing us to move forward, to do more, to get it done.

Because without a sense of direction, or a purpose, the pieces we've yet to find a place for just clutter the end result with maybes and what might-have-beens.

And it seems no edges are strong enough to handle that.

Tuesday, October 6, 2009

Wings and beer

Two girls.
20 wings.
A basket of fries.
And a bread bowl of spinach dip (with stale chips).

You'd think we hadn't eaten for days given the spread of carbs that lay on our table. In combination with the stack of napkins covered in barbecue sauce, the empty pints of Octoberfest, and the bowl of chicken bones, there was little room for much more than our conversation.

"We should take a picture with all this food!" I exclaimed.

And nicely enough, the man standing behind us offered to take the shot.

"Make sure you get all the food!" We declared, since that was the purpose of getting out the camera to begin with.

And then he fumbled.

"Wait, really? Women usually don't want people to know they eat..."

We feigned a smile while I let his words sink into my already full belly.

It is true that women will order a salad when they want a steak, because it's the more "feminine" thing to do.

But when did eating become something only men can enjoy?

As we tore apart our wings and offered each other an exchange of carbohydrates, I couldn't help but feel a sense of freedom.

Because we didn't care what anyone thought of our spread, we were too hungry to notice any stares and too happy to not lick our fingers at the end of our meal.

Our photographer's comment aside, we were simply out to enjoy ourselves, our friendship, and our meal together.

And while it's true that some women don't want people to know they eat.

Other women... like us... just want others to know we're people too.