This morning, after my run (yay to me for finding time), I settled in to an article I had set aside to read: The Strangeness of Grief by V. S. Naipaul. I am, at times, obsessed with the subject. It’s not something I’ve ever really experienced, at least not on the level of what I’ve felt a few months back. Jocelyn, the therapist I had talked to would tell me the depth of love is a measure of the loss I’ll feel. I didn’t really doubt the sentiment… it’s echoed in Naipaul’s essay:
Love makes memories and life precious; the grief that comes to us is proportionate to that love and is inescapable.
I was certain this would be a post about grief and Naipaul’s essay. It’s a really good read. I admire the writing, and his ability to tackle a tough subject. Surprisingly, he writes about the love and loss of his cat Augustus more than he writes about his father or brother. I’d love to have his talent – his recollections of Augustus are sweet and his use of language is great. But, having read the essay, all I can really say is – go read it, it’s worth your time.
A strange thing happened to me today – it gave me a little bit of an ego boost. Shortly after Cheri had decided she wanted to focus on repairing her relationship with her ex-boyfirend, I decided maybe it’s time to put myself out there, and to do it in ways that I hadn’t really considered before. I would have been prepared to do the long distance relationship thing if B had wanted to try again. I was entertaining the idea of what something might look like with Cheri in Omaha. I expanded my search and have been ignoring distance (for the most part). I’ve looked in California, Texas, Florida… Feeling a little bold, I reached out to a woman in Nashville – her photos were black and white and had an artistic quality to them. I was guessing she was a redhead, and while her profile wasn’t terribly long, she seemed like my “type.” A day or two went by, and today she replied. She said she was an actress and singer / songwriter, and was flying back from LA where she was at a friend’s charity gala. She wanted to know what nonprofit I worked for, she said my profile resonated with her. I wrote back with some corny joke about her writing to me from above (she said she was saying hi from above), and I think I made a self-deprecating joke about the fragile male ego…. I asked her if I would know any of her work (I don’t own a TV). I then wrote back to say, ignore the question, if she’s flying back from a gala in LA, she’s probably done well, and maybe wants to remain anonymous for now. Unfortunately, she disappeared – cut off the connection. I was curious and poked around a bit. It turns out she’s been in quite few things – things I’ve seen. I’m not going to lie, I became intrigued by the thought of dating a celebrity – mostly how long would it take to just be normal, could it ever be normal? I’m probably about as un-celebrity as they come. I’m sure with the help of a stylist (and maybe a trainer), I could dress up well for a red carpet event…
What is it about celebrity that catches us off guard? Do they long for a quieter life? I prefer to think of them as regular people, with a lot of regular people problems and insecurities – just with a huge spotlight on them. I like to think I’m the type of guy that could just have a beer with someone famous, not make too big a deal over it. I would have liked to get to know what she was about – she seemed pretty cool and authentic – wrote me a nice note. Wish I knew which dumb thing I said scared her away… Wouldn’t mind a do-over.