Happiness Consultant

I started out this post a few days ago, with a detailed description of my unfortunate premier dinner at a local Italian restaurant I had longed to go to for a while. I planned to zoom out of those details and continue to the past weeks events. At that point I thought these events had reached their climax but I was obviously wrong. Today I feel the have defiantly reached some kind of maximum, at least for now.

I am actually doing it. Sitting alone in coffee shop meters from my house. Me and my lap. The same lap I had learned can't hook itself up to the TV today. So I am at a bit of a love/hate relationship as of now.
I am coping with being let down and letting down at the same time. So peculiar to me that we can be part two very similar, almost identical circumstances, and yet feel so different about each of them. When things happen too quickly, they tend to effect each other. Finding out what is right and what is wrong, and I know there are no absolutes, is a demanding task.

I am writing in the coffee shop and determined to push "publish" in the coffee shop. No rewrites later in the evening, or tomorrow or in a week. There are some happy people around me, specially the young father who is constantly smiling to his pretty little girl. And the guy who just joined them?
Is he happy?

I am waiting to catch a glimpse of her passing by. I know she'll be out soon, but probably I way too early and by that time my battery will run out.
There are a lot of others, some better in other ways and some generally better, but they are not currently her - and that's a incurable flaw.

I am flattering myself, I wish I had not had the urge to write the following lines. Lately I have been feeling like Happiness consultant from the HBO series, except I have no kids to gain custody over, no house to renovate and bad internet connection, so I can't even access my farmville, and harvest those long rotten strawberries.

Catching lightning

It poured heavily that night. One of those thunderstorms Tel-Aviv should be famous for. There's a lot of sea near by, that being the reason I guess...

It was a few years back. My photography hobby was still an incurable obsession so I just had to go up to the roof. My mind was set on capturing my first thunder bolt, freezing it, posting it to pbase. A photographic cliche I had not conquered before (and would not attempt to conquere again till this very day).

She refused to come up with me. It was an easily understandable refusal. Who would want to go out in the cold and rain without a purpose of his own? Mind you this photography habit of mine already stretched her patience to the maximum, but there was something else in her refusal. A scent of contempt maybe? I could feel it but wasn't aware of it at the time. A typical abnormality of mine.
Should I have been more keen on sharing our time, rather then chase a comment or an increment of view counts? Of course.

Possessed by my mission and despite her refusals I did go up alone. I setup my tripod and waited. Trying to capture a lighting bolt is tricky. It can hit anywhere. At anytime. There's no predicting it. As I was hopelessly looking for a right spot to place my tripod, I remembered the old saying about lightening not striking twice in the same place. So I settled for the position I was in and waited, patiently.

I don't remember how long it took but I did manage to capture one. By that time I was completely soaked, from head to toe, and my camera as well. God knows how over caring I was with that sub-$500 camera. When I returned home to dry I found her dosing off on the couch. I told her of my accomplishment, and she awoke herself briefly, and smiled her typical smile.
I could feel she was happy for me, but not for herself.

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כפול ארוך עם חלב חם בצד
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Friday afternoon - time to reflect

Friday afternoon. No family dinner planned. Tel Aviv quiets down in these hours. Like I imagine a post-nuclear-attack would feel like: a peacefull vacom. A very little breeze creeps in, hardly noticeable - but I did. Phone will not ring now. It's me time. Time to reflect. To summarize. To add and subtract the events of the passing week/s. To asses and sum up my feelings. Michael Jackson's death hits me like all tragdegies do - with little impact. I am in apathy. Taking time to absorve. Things hardly do sink in immediatly. They take time. They dwell slowly, and errupt unexcpectedly. They surprise me. I am sad one moment. Incouraged the other. Sometimes within the hour.
Hesistant to make plans I would regret a moment later. I remain behind the screen. Safe.

Alma

Untitled

I wish I could write something structured. Short and to the point. No Big ideas, I have trouble with those.
Something clear. Coherent. Cohesive. (damn you English teacher named Carol).
Something that rings well and reads smoothly.
Easily digestible.
A one-two punch.
A pick-up read.
Something flowing, light and catchy.
Not to be too fancy or too complex, cause really - that's pretentious.
Just be me.
I wish.