I give up

So, I give up. I was trying to back post all of the entries since mid-August, but most of the entries were incomplete at best. At some point, you just have to say, "Hey, this is what it is" and move on. I might fill in the gaps, but really, I just wanted to post about my romantic dinner with Mirabelle from last week, and all the rest of it was just holding it up.

Well, that and a chat with James (of blog naming fame) last night. He commented that even though he knows about all the various details about things I've done over the last few years since working with him, he doesn't feel like he is really connected to me any more. Which is true, since I see him far too rarely than my like of him would suggest I'd see him.

Body language, too, is important in communication, he further commented. Sure, you can read what someone writes on a website, but without the intonations and inflections in the voice, and the facial expressions and body language that accommpany the words, you don't receive the full story. He needs that to be really communicating with someone.

I suspect that goes especially when talking to people who do full-body talking, as Paul has on more than one occasion accused me of doing. Like it's a bad thing that my stories require the use of arms and legs to fully tell, or something (it isn't, and you just missed my rolling my eyes when I said it, and the smirk on my face. Or maybe I did one of my "Vicki" faces, as Kris calls them. I am a woman of many communication styles).

Paul has agreed to work through the Yale Death class I've been a little slow to start, but haven't given up on completely, with me. I was hoping to find someone near by to "take" the class with me, but really, I don't have anyone whom I can do the all night b.s. philosophy sessions with the way that Paul and I used to in the wisdom of our high school years. The folly of youth, mixed with hormones? Yes, THOSE people know what philosophy can be. So much more than we adults pretend to know.

I'm oddly enthusiastic about the class. I wonder if I could get some local friends in on it, too. If I could, I'd be able to convince Paul to come up here for our talk sessions (bribing Gena, of course, with free babysitting and some sort of spa visit).

Of course, my friends might be mad at me for bringing in someone who can philosophize all of the rest of us into corners.