I didn't start with a title this time.

A friend recently commented that being single and being in a relationship is basically exactly the same thing, or two halves of the same whole. She has a point, I think. We all live our individual lives and things happen to each of us independently of the other, if there is one (an other, I mean). Jobs - new ones, promotions, demotions, all of the daily ups and downs happen to us independently. Our interactions with our friends happen independently. Even our relationships happen independently if you stop and think about it. We can be happy with each other. Perhaps for a short time, perhaps for a long time. But if we stop being happy, then that happens independently too, in most cases. Maybe both are unhappy, but the feeling is isolating. And individual. My life doesn't really look so different from the coupled either. At the end of the day, I call a close friend to meet for dinner or to meet at the gym, etc . . . I imagine the conversations among the marrieds aren't that different from mine "would you like to meet after work, shall I make dinner, etc . . ." The players may be different, but the day to day remains the same.

Why then, do we long for the connection with someone else. Why do we all envy the blissful coupled state? What keeps us seeking that, no matter how independently, no matter how old we get or how long we've been with someone. I hope that the answer has something to do with it being really nice to have someone else care about you. I remember what that was like. I long for that again. I miss the people that have cared about me and who have moved on. Not the individuals themselves, but the being cared about part. The being loved part. And there are some I do miss in particular. You're not supposed to say that. It's considered crazy to still love someone and to still hope that one day you'll be with him again. It's even crazier to hope for it when you know it's next to impossible given the circumstances, and given that he never really was yours to begin with.

Pop pop pop culture . . .

Just one more reason not to wear the ugliest shoe ever made.

It's fall TV premiere season, my favorite time of the year. I'm waiting for my DVR to bring me "Dirty, Sexy, Money" and "Private Practice." Tonight I watched K-ville and loved it. You've probably seen the ads, but it's a cop show set in New Orleans post-Katrina. I was worried it would be too cliched or too dreary and unhopeful, too a lot of things. It was just a fun ride and happened to take place in NOLA. I love a TV show that features a story that wraps up in one episode so you don't have to watch every week from Day 1. K-ville is this kind of show. It was fun, showed New Orleans looking pretty and gritty. I hope it catches on, so here's my plug. I've also gotten into "Tell Me You Love Me" on HBO. I wasn't sure about a show titled with the co-dependent's anthem, but it's interesting. All about married sex. No one ever talks about that.

At least there is some karmic justice in this world.

But this was sad. Long live Meg Murry and nerdy girls everywhere.

Finally.

Can't talk

I lost my voice. Not permanently, not figuratively, just have a temporary bout of laryngitis after a cold. I cannot stand being sick and I always try to deny it. It starts with total denial that anything is "off." I tell myself that my throat feels fine, that it's always a bit tingly, especially when it's late at night, despite the fact that it never feels tingly at all normally. Once I actually have a sore throat (which is how all of my colds start), I tell myself that it can be cured with lots of vitamin C. I then proceed to swallow copious amount of vitamins and drink glass after glass of airborne formula or some other vitamin concoction. I tend to get away with this for a few days too -- it will stave off the cold and I can do the things previously on my agenda. (I never get sick at a "good time" like when there is nothing on the calendar.) Anyway, I went through this routine all last week. Finally, last night, the bug refused to leave me alone. I had a stuffy nose and felt awful. So what did I do? Go straight to bed and take care of myself like a normal person would? Nope. I went out for a drink and a bite to eat. Felt even worse this morning. Again, did I stay home? Nope. Woulda been bored all day. Went to work and stayed all day. Went out after work for a drink again, and that is where I lost my voice. It's gone. The sexy Kathleen Turner-esque thing I had going on this morning is a mere memory. C'est la vie. Maybe it will be back tomorrow. I know I'll be out though again denying that I have a cold.