is the word 'diary' better than the word 'blog'? probably not.

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Have You Revealed Yourself Lately?

Have You Revealed Yourself Lately?

On the airplane from Hartford to Charlotte and from Charlotte to San Francisco, I read the new Jeannette Winterson novel, Lighthousekeeping. I read it straight through. You should too. It�s a story about stories, and love, and identity-formation, and what those all have to do with each other. It�s about a lighthouse, and keeping the light, and making a home. And it�s about the way light illuminates some things while leaving others in the dark. This relates back to stories, and love, and identity-formation, because stories always light up some part of a life while leaving other parts in darkness. (Much like this diary.) We don�t need to know everything. We can�t know everything. �There are lit-up moments, and the rest is dark.� This is true even of those whom we love. We just don't know everything.

Hannah Arendt would add that our lives are made up of stories, the narratives we form by being our selves over time. And we, as individuals, are not wholly in control of what our stories will be: others will participate, and they may have different ideas, aims, needs, and principles than do we, and those different goals will alter, aid, or impede us in the paths we would otherwise freely choose. ("Do you think you and I would ever date?" "No.") In addition, none of us entirely dictates what others will think of us when we present ourselves to the world. We are never able to calculate beforehand who we reveal when we reveal ourselves to others. The difficulty of communication, even in a shared language, is reminder enough of that. None of us are the stable identities we think we are.

But man, isn�t it great to attempt to reveal yourself to others? (Ha!) Sometimes yes, sometimes no, I know. It sucks to be surrounded constantly by people who don�t know you, and who are therefore more than likely to misunderstand whatever revelation you might undertake. Right now I am happy to be surrounded by my friends here in San Francisco. Communication is fraught with uncertainty, but less so with those who give us their time over time. That gift of time and friendship is not to be underestimated!

We reveal ourselves only through our relations to others (what would 'revealing' be if there were no one there to witness it?), and that is why we cannot be only who we set out to be, and also why the uncertainty imposed by those conditions is both inescapable and not to be regretted. (You might think you regret this uncertainty wherein the person who you think you are is beyond your power to determine on your own. But that uncertainty is what makes love and friendship and maybe even art and things like commitment to justice possible, and so I am saying that the uncertainty is not to be regretted even when what it produces is, on occasion, regrettable.)

The above photo was taken of me on the 4th of July a couple of years ago. In it I'm at a BBQ at JB's house, laying in the grass, drinking beer and and reading Hannah Arendt's Between Past and Future, while Liz, JB and some other people play a game with dice. It's not that I'm anti-social all the time: we had all been sitting around talking and eating for most of the afternoon, and then it became time for gaming and reading. In the photo I'm wearing my red, white and blue Gap Athletic t-shirt with the G and L removed, so it says AP ATH ETIC (which pleases me as a consumer statement), as well as a skirt and shoes that I still wear all the time. What interests me about the photograph is that when I first saw it I felt like it revealed something about me, and that surprised me, because it was taken by someone who doesn't know me. Perhaps it's that I didn't know it was being taken, and so it isn't like a photo that I would pose for. All the other photos I have of the day are of me with groups of people, all looking at the camera and smiling together. But the photo in question, that must be how I look to other people, at least some of the time: the girl reading a book in a yard full of people, looking off into the distance, thinking about Hannah Arendt. (And, well, is that a boon or an albatross? Ha. And I wonder why I can't get a date!) What does the photo say? The book and the beer are outside of the frame, but central to my memory of that part of the afternoon. So the photo plus my memory of it give us simultaneously a metaphoric and practical reminder that we are only partly who we intend to be. Some parts are lit up and others are left in the dark. We are never fully able to calculate beforehand who we reveal when we reveal ourselves to others.

And then!

Friday night at the Starry Plough was fun. The Morning Line played a whole bunch of new material. I�m looking forward to seeing them again soon, so I can hear the new songs again. The opening band was a full-on country band, so the juxtaposition of the two sets of sounds was a bit funny. Also, we were in Berkeley, so there was some hippy action. At one point Evany said to me �there�s a shitstorm of patchouli up in my shizzle.� And there was. It was pungent. Because no one who likes patchouli knows how to wear just a little.

Saturday, AKA my birthday, was good. During the day I went to the opening party for Brett and Jennifer�s new winery, Citizen Wines. They had great food, sangria, and, of course, wine. Then I went home and took a short nap and got ready for dinner. We met for cocktails around nine, and I had a tasty Mojito, then Evany, Heidi, Marilyn, Stephen, Jeff, Caroleen, Liz and I had dinner. It was good, but I think Foreign Cinema�s brunch is more reliable than its dinner: not everyone at the table was uniformly pleased with his or her meal. And that�s not good at that price level. However, the majority of us were very happy with all the food, and the company was good, and we had some good wine, and a wide array of tasty cocktails. By the time we finished dinner it was midnight. Marilyn (whom I�ve known since we were 14!) and I came back to my house and drank some bourbon and stayed up talking very late into the evening.

Sunday Marilyn and I had brunch at Pork Store, shopped at Therapy, and I came home and took a very good nap. Then I walked the long walk up to Bernal Heights where Sunshine lives, listening to the new Aimee Mann album on my iPod (I have been listening to that album obsessively since the day it came out. It is excellent). Sunny made dinner for me, Evany and Marco, Amy, Leisa and Cash, and Liz and Ivan. We had amazingly tasty-spicy black beans and brown rice, with avocados, fried plantains, and a yummy salad. We watched some TV (including the season finale of Evany�s cash calf and nemesis, Desperate Housewives), and had an amazing white cake with custard filling and perfect not-too-sweet buttercream frosting.

Today I went to Loehmann�s and used my birthday discount to get two new tops, then I went on an epic search for straight leg jeans of the Capri variety, and reminded myself of Why I Hate Pants. I Hate Pants Because They Do Not Fit Me. Not even Armani Exchange, AKA house of Jill-fitting pants, could service me. I finally found the perfect pair (not too dark blue, not too light blue, not too wide-leg, not too stiff but also not too spandexy, and not doing that girl-penis thing where the zipper zone sticks out, and not doing that camel toe thing, or the weird creasing thing....) but of course the only pair in my size was flawed in a way I could not justify paying for. Curses! But it�s no calamity. Dresses are better anyway. Oh how I love a good dress! What does that say about me?

9:30 p.m. - May 23, 2005

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