Peridot Flavouring

"People are like cakes. Many of the ingredients may taste horrible on their own, but once combined and properly baked, can form a wide variety of complex creations."

I'd said something like the above to my counsellor a good year or so ago; I've since tried to shorten it. Don't know if I've succeeded since I cannot remember the exact thing I said. Still, I recall her eyes blinking open in surprise, and she asked me to repeat it. Her hand made some scribbles and I asked if she was going to have me committed or something. She explained that she liked my analogy, and wanted to remember it. Apparently she felt other clients could benefit from that little summarization of humanity. This wasn't the first time she jotted down something I'd said, verbatim, and it made me start wondering if perhaps I should write them down, too. So I began doing this.

Last night I began and finished a little necklace. I found these cool, sparkly Swarovski crystals at our new Michael's the other day; the green peridot colouring caught my eye first. When I saw the dark purple and clear crystal, I was smitten. These needed to accompany me on my wedding day. Also found a few interesting pendants; one was a bunny which I wanted desperately to use in the necklace. However, I ended up using one of the three leaves I purchased. It went best with the ensemble I created, and I wasn't about to change the bead arrangement. Not even for a bunny. She'll just have to find another den of beads to make her nest in.

Anywho, it's perty, although it kinda reminds me of a team: Each bead is like a little spark inside a person; a personality if you will. Too many of the same kind and they all blend together like drones. But if you string them all together in a balanced, complementary way, you get a well-implemented team. Like people, the middle pendant is the leader, taking attention away from the others but never diminishing their beauty and value. The beads in the back, those that are seldom visible, are often smaller than the rest for comfort's sake; these are the folks that work hard behind the scenes, supporting the weight of all the others. So many of the otherwise beautiful sparklies may wish they could be that center piece, aspire for the recognition, even. Few are truly aware of their own beautiful qualities or the importance of their placement.

See, each bead is necessary. Removing even one will throw the whole necklace out of harmony, and replacing it means disassembling the whole thing, inserting the new bead, and restringing so all are back in harmony again. Of course, mistakes can be made in this process.

Please don't tell me I'm already thinking about work...

Currently there's Bryan Adams in my ears. Earlier, Peter Cetera came on, and I found myself listening to him a couple of times. My mom's voice echoed in my head: "You must be depressed. You're listening to Peter again. You always listen to Peter when you're depressed." I reflected on this, and while there may be an element of truth to that, I realized that I've listened to Peter most of my life. From the moment I first heard his gorgeous voice soar over my uncle's truck radio, I was hooked. Who better to listen to when depressed, than someone you love to listen to anyway? It also dawned on me that if I "listen to Peter when depressed," which makes it sound like I *only* listen to Peter when I'm depressed, then that would mean that I was depressed from the age of 7 until I started noticing other artists were talented, too.

That doesn't say much for my parental upbringing, does it?

In all truth, however, I ultimately came to the conclusion that it doesn't really matter. What matters is how /I/ feel regardless of what I'm listening to, not what others /think/ I feel. Most people do listen to certain music when they're feeling blue, and they often listen to certain music when they're happy, too. Music is very much about mood. Peter's music happens to have a strong emotional side which snags my attention. Perhaps it's more appropriate to say that his music /makes/ me emotional (either direction), and snags me best when I'm already in such a state. Mom probably doesn't know that I've put on Bonnie Tyler, Bee Gees, Richard Marx, and nameless others when I'm feeling out of sorts and down, and when my mood changes into positive, I find myself listening to Peter's happier songs. She also doesn't know of the many conversations I tuck away in my head that take place between Dale and I.

One of these conversations occurred recently during and after a movie called "Number 23." (Good movie, by the way.) Before I get into it, let me explain how I function, because Mom never understood this and Dale's only beginning to. (At least he tries.)

I love patterns, organizing, and "hidden meanings." I like to play with ideas, toss things around, and make something out of nothing. Little of my "conclusions" do I ever take particularly seriously; those I do take seriously, I don't speak of very often because discussion is least likely to fluorish. Still, there are times that I may be so adamant about one of these ideas that it seems as if I firmly believe them when I really don't. My mind is both logical and creative, opposite ends of the spectrum in many ways, a dichotomy of personalities, hot and cold. Always. I know so many people who say the same thing when I mention this trait, but if they are truly like this, they would be able to separate my logic from my creativity, and they cannot (or they simply love playing games with me, either way, their theories are not proven). Thus I do not believe "everyone feels like that." Maybe from time to time, sure, but not to such a degree. I am *always* feeling torn. Even now, I know that more than anything I want to marry Dale. Yet, the concept of marriage makes no logical sense to me whatsoever, and goes against so many things I've believed in for so long - spiritual unions are far stronger and more significant than state-recognized marriages, etc. (Even Dale appears to believe this to some extent. The other day he commented that we could wear rings before we get married, we're as good as there already. It's just a symbol of something we've known before we ever agreed to formalize it.)

I could lie and say the only reason I convinced myself that marrying Dale is a good thing in my book is because then no one can separate us in the event of an accident or something. We'll be legally joined in all eyes of this planet. But in all truth, this is not why I'm marrying him. I'm doing it because somehow, there's always been a little part of my brain that thinks, "Let's do that marriage thing." My dislike of social necessities propagated my belief that marriage is silly and unnecessary in a spiritual union. However, when I met the person of my waking dreams, the little voice inside me jumped over the disdain and said, "So, don't get married for THEM. Get married 'cause you wanna!!" Do I wanna? Do I? Yep. And no. But the yep is stronger than the no. So, I went with the yep and said, "Uh huh" when Dale finally popped the question. My logic dictated that with all the facts, feelings, history, social inaptitudes, and thoughts before me, there was compelling evidence to indicate that marriage would be a positive for me. Assuming it involved Dale, too.

When things align themselves so perfectly, I feel happily forced to take action. My decision was - relatively! - easy. Thank God. And I reached this decision about two months after Dale and I began dating. In the months that followed, I occasionally revisited this decision, and found further reason to perpetuate it. See, most of my beliefs and decisions are constantly revisited, especially the important ones. Even my belief in God is challenged sometimes, and this is probably the longest-held belief I've ever had. For the most part, the concept of Him hasn't changed for me, either. Little pieces may have fallen into place, or been shaken away, or added, or clarified, or accepted, but the main portion of my belief has remained steadfast save for one tiny moment when I thought, "God, how do I know You really exist?" I remember that little conversation very well. It was about six, maybe seven, years ago. The funny part of this is that my inner conversation was directed towards the very essence I was questioning. Within seconds I realized this and thought, "Heh. You know, if I can't even question Your existence without talking to You, how can I possibly conclude that You don't exist?" This was the last time I ever truly questioned my belief in God. I reflect on this somewhat illogical stance whenever I reach a somewhat illogical decision. Sometimes us humans are simply illogical. We have feelings and intuition, too. Marriage is one of those things for me. Reason simply doesn't explain why we feel the urge to do it.

Anywho, throughout the movie, Dale made some comments about how one can make something out of nothing if they're inclined to do so. You believe 23 is a magical number, and it will be. You'll see it everywhere. At first I felt as if he were saying these things as my mom may have. I could hear her voice in my head, "See? This is what I've been trying to tell you. Numerology isn't real. Astrology is evil. The only thing you should focus on is God, let Him handle things for you." (Spoken by a chronic worrier. Yeah, slick, Mom. What do they say... 'Do as I say, not as I do.' Right? But I digress.) Of course, Mom would have had to watch the movie a few more times before seeing anything OTHER than that moral. Meanwhile, I'd be annoyed and subconsciously trying to find my favourite thing: hidden meanings.

I nodded, slightly annoyed, trying to watch the movie without that added prejudice. I admitted to myself that the guy seemed a bit nutsoid, but many geniuses are nutsoid, so I decidedly gave him the benefit of the doubt. Knowing Dale is not my mom, I also tucked his comments away so I could evaluate them a bit later both at face value and based on our history together. We discussed the movie at some length over dinner and I found myself undisturbed by my emotional reactions to the perceived challenges of my nature. I found no malice in his comments then, and concluded that I'd overreacted as I often do. Whether he was ever aware of my internal struggle, I don't know, but it was internal and native to me. I reflected on what had transpired and realized a few things:

1. During the movie, I was indeed caught up in the magic of the number 23, following closely with the potentially insane logic of the obsessive persons depicted.

2. His comments came as I felt myself becoming absorbed, the approximate time of which, my mom would have mentioned something as a snide remark to my sudden burst of attention towards something quite illogical (though possible!).

3. I felt defensive.

It has also dawned on me that Mom put down *anything* that I saw as emotional, exciting, or intriguing. She wanted me to discuss things she wanted to discuss. Truth be told, we have very different interests. So it's not surprising that she'd have strong, desperate reactions to me when I felt pulled towards a subject I find mesmerizing. Numbers. I love numbers. They're simple, direct, yet can be configured in such a way to create the most complex logic. All of them can be reduced to a single digit. Here we have logic, simplicity, complexity, theory, and organization all in the same package. Their basic element is what makes the whole universe tick. I don't expect my mom to understand certain things I've always had an element of understanding for, but her failure to allow me the benefit of the doubt all these years... Mom is smart, she knows what it's like to feel restrained, inhibited by the stupidity of the world at large. Why inflict this upon one's own kid, a reflection of her own startlingly blazing mind?

Unless, she never understood at all. She was so tied up with her own issues that she never saw me for who I am.

That last bit seemed an appropriate stopping point for food. I sit here now, eating steak and pasta with a nice cup of Ceylon Sonata. The steak was frozen so I cooked it as it was in Dale's George Foreman grill. I added some freshly pressed Garlic to the top partway through its cooking time, sprinkled on coriander, let it burn a bit, and whammo, breakfast. I must admit that the Bearnaise sauce I put on as a sidenote isn't as tasty as the kind I recall from a restaurant a ways back, but it's not bad in the wide lo mein noodles. Typically I like them plain, the steak seasoned; this morning I'll settle for the opposite. I've got tea. That's all that matters. Heh.

The peridot-flavoured necklace sits all sparkly behind my keyboard, right where I've left it. The middle leaf is strikingly dull now that I look at it, surrounded by all the sparklies. It's forged of a greenish stone, I know not of which variety. Seems to me that my most recent "team" analogy is even more appropriate. Leaders appear to be dull on the surface, yet still stand out. Going deeper, one could say their hearts are either made of stone or are as strong as one. Regardless, they are still shaped by society's hands, just as the sparkling talents around them.

I think I prefer the little purple beads that accent the slightly larger green ones. They seem to break things up and make the necklace more interesting. I hope, in the grand scheme of things, I am one of those beads. At least for one necklace, anyway.

Strange how such a simple piece of jewelry can inspire such a long post. Perhaps I'll name this piece, "Teamwork." Despite its apparent work-oriented connotation, methinks it's a most appropriate name for wedding jewelry. Isn't teamwork what makes a good relationship good?

Vienna Teng now graces my ears with her subtly powerful voice. I'm still eating as I type this. Soon I'll finish my food, neaten up my den, shower, and head to work. I've locked Sinclair out of my den because quite frankly, having a kitten playing with the cross dangling around your neck isn't exactly relaxing. Earlier he was behind the lizard tank, in the window. At first, I allowed it, figuring the tank was too heavy for him to move. But when he managed to perch himself on the top of the bottom pane, wriggling back and forth unstable-like, I thought better of it. He attempted to retry twice before I decided I really wasn't in the mood to kitty-sit this morning. Ah. Relaxation at last...

~nv