what does that mean?
to submit? to give in?
to bow to overwhelming odds, to concede to the inevitable?
to accept that which you cannot change?
to, i dont know, accept your losses.
i have lost so much, so many things that i have loved have been taken from me, in some ways more and others less, and yet at the same time i guess that overall i should consider myself blessed for that which i do have.
i dont want to come off as complaining here.
or something, whatever.
i could make some trite reference to a 90's sarah song, or i could wax poetic about how... no i wont even do that.
i will instead tell you a story.
its not going to be on of my more legen...wait for it... dary stories but it is one that i have never told before.
this is the story of the time i went to the wedding in carmel.
i was dating a girl at the time who happened to know someone who was getting married and i was, as it turned out, the plus one.
there was another couple who was invited to the same wedding, both of whom i went to jr college with, and the female half, well we had the same art class.
the male half was, to put it... aw fuck it, he was a dick.
anyway, she was under a lot of stress and i asked her one day in an offhanded sort of way if she was ok... (i might have jokingly said something about heroin-chic)
fast forward to the reception.
now at this point i should probably say that as far as i have been able to figure, people and their reactions to me tend to gravitate to the extremes, they generally either love me or hate me...
and i have found that, at weddings, the tend to love me (especially the black sheep aunt who assists and abets me in liberating the wine from all the other tables).
it was a beautiful service, a wonderful reception, and the groom and i (a groom i had not met until that afternoon) ended up doing shots of champagne toasting to his good health and long and happy married life.
somehow for that afternoon i became family, i met cousins uncles and the like, it was a fun day.
in the mean time the previous mentioned classmates were also in attendance, and the male half of the relationship (aforementioned "dick") decided to get really drunk...
and decided to take that time to take umbrage to me having mentioned months before that his girlfriend had looked "as bad as i felt" as we had been getting over the flu (again i said something about how many models die for the heroin-chic look) anyway.
there, in the reception hall, he decided to throw down and cause a scene (over nothing), tore off his jacket and came storming at me, screaming "you think my girl looks like death?!?!!?"
(aside: death, as drawn in the DC Vertigo series, is hot so that would be really a kind of a complement)
now, not that i really knew this guy but i did know his rep, he was crazy, a goth/metalhead who had done wayyyyy to much acid and was looking for an excuse to put his fist into a solid object, or body, whichever was closer.
there are few times that i can remember in my life where i have sighed inwardly and committed myself to a fate inevitable, this was seemingly one of them.
and as this drunken young man came hurtling towards me, a wall of people who i had not known until earlier that day jumped up from their seats and effectively pinned him to the wall.
i would have chalked the experience up to family trying to make sure that the wedding wasnt ruined, but by that time the bride and groom had left for the honeymoon and uncle will said "hes going for patrick"...
i guess that in some way thats what a blog is, a diary, if youre open or honest, i guess thats it a way to give up parts of your life, or share them i guess, depending on how you look at it.