I have an "off" day.

Have you ever had one of those moments where someone asks you, "Hey, how was your day?" but what they really mean is, "Hey, it's my job to be nice because I work in sales and I actually don't give a shit about your day." Unfortunately, that subliminal message doesn't sink in until you are half way through your explanation of how your day actually was. Like how you went to an hour an half yoga class this morning, sat in line for an emmisions test for a WHOLE hour, went to Trader Joe's, and then decided to sit on your couch and watch some TV since it's, you know, raining, but you have this birthday party to go to in like two hours so you figured you would just run to Kiehl's since you live right around the corner--the little voice starts urging to shut your piehole, but you stubbornly ignore it--and buy some face wash, and I was going to wear these great leather shoes tonight, but it's raining and they might get ruined, haha, but maybe I'll wear 'em anyway. Anyway, thanks for the face wash. Ok bye.

Impressively, you managed to reveal your currently lackluster life in the time that it takes to exchange cash for change and a receipt.

Then they give you that look. That look that says, "OK, Crazy. Come back and see us again when you've rejoined the human race, Crazy McCrazster."

The best part is when you get home, realize that you bought the wrong kind of cleanser and need to go back into the store of Life Embarrassment, return unwanted Non-Foaming Cleansing Milk for the preferred Gentle Foaming Facial Cleanser, catch glimpse of distorted reflection in uebershiny door as you leave, startle, and think befittingly, "Great. Crazy McCrazster managed to scare even herself."

*****

The gray, unpredictable mood of today contrasts sharply with the lively, jocular mood on Thursday night. Great friends. Great conversations. Great bar. Great beer. All of the necessary ingredients were present, mixed, and baked to perfection. We discussed politics, Virginia Tech shootings, issues on gun control, clinical psychology, abortion, education, life, and death.

Death has been omnipresent. The anniversary of my friend's father's death was on Sunday, 33 people died on Monday, the anniversary of Columbine was on Friday, another friend is scattering his grandmother's ashes today, people continue to perish in the Middle East, and my uncle died on Thursday. Uncle Pat is, er, was the eldest of eight. He served in the Coast Guard, married the love of his life, smoked a pipe, wore a Captain Ahad beard, stepped up as patriach of the family after his father passed away, never wanted to be the center of attention, but was always the first to crack a joke (usually at the expense of one of his siblings). At family reunions, Uncle Pat and his seven siblings (#5 being my Dad) would gather around and sing this old tune from the 40's that my grandmother taught them while she played the piano. The eight "kids" did this ritual even after Grandma passed away. But now, there is only seven. Seven is such a small number compared to eight. People die. And it sucks.

I have successfully avoided feeling any sort of emotion all week until today. I cried. I cried during Grey's Anatomy (nothing really tragic even happened in this episode). I cried during October Road, a show, which in my opinion, isn't even that good. I cried at Desperate Housewives. I cried. For those of you who know me as Waterworks, my pure achievement at crying at the drop of a hat comes as no surprise. After 26 years of being a "professional" crier, the same issues will trigger the tear ducts: love. Not death. Lost love. Forbidden love. Love just out of reach. Love actualized and love received. Fuck it if it's a stupid Hallmark commercial, my eyes show no prejudice for the tears that they shed.

I am a damn sentimental helpless romantic with a quick tearjerk reaction. It's who I am and there's nothing I want to do to change it.