Facebook is down.

I sympathize with the poor people whose birthdays are today and aren’t able to get those happy notifications.

I have been known to greatly anticipate large, pre-meditated vacations and romantic getaways. Just like the next person, I tend to fall into the “bigger = better” school of thought. I’m guilty of pulling for expensive, fancy, and fancier dinners and hotels.

But the things I look forward to most (paradoxically) are the ones that I don’t expect.

Case in point:

For the past 3 months, I’ve been planning a 5 night Cabo Cruise with the boy and a gaggle of friends. Clearly, I have been counting down the days until I’m laying prone and languid on a slatted pool chair, ever since the trip’s conception. I’m pretty darn excited, understandably.

Yesterday, I woke up for work and blearily stumbled out to my desk to check my e-mails. Stacked neatly on top of my keyboard was a little box and enclosed inside was a chocolate rabbit. I was completely taken aback and in that brief moment, I felt more bliss and rampant delight than I ever would sipping margaritas on a ship deck.

The cruise will definitely reap photos and stories and will remain a pleasant spot in my life that will fade as more memories are made; but that split second of discovery of the chocolate bunny, which probably cost less than 5 dollars, and the feeling it evoked in me will always be clear as day in my mind…probably for the lifetime to come.

I met the most beautiful eyes today.

The color of these beautiful eyes was incredible: a warm hazel flecked with green and gold with a deep black center and rimmed with a dark ring.  They were dynamic eyes, their color always changing with each subtle movement made or with each angle of sunlight hitting them.

But what struck me speechless more than the color of these beautiful eyes was what I saw behind those eyes and what the way they were able to see through mine.  The owner of these eyes was years younger than me, but the eyes themselves were old, old, old.  They were filled with wisdom of the world and the hurt they have seen and the obstacles they have triumphed over.

And in the reflection of those eyes, I saw myself: vulnerable, humbled, and inspired.  I wanted to stare at those eyes, no, through those eyes forever, but I couldn’t bear to let those eyes stare through mine.

I didn’t just want to look at those eyes, I wanted to be those eyes.

—-

I usually try to stay away from the touchy-feely stuff on this blog, but I just can’t get those eyes out of the recesses of my mind.

It’s been so long (never?) that I’ve driven down the 101/152/5 S route when it wasn’t brown and dead, so I was a little taken aback at how lush and absolutely…green everything looked.

There was a point in my life where I got it in my head that Colorado would be a perfect place to live.  I’d imagine Colorado would have four distinct seasons, unlike the two in California (damn hot and freezing).  The air would be fresh and breathable, and not clogged with the perpetual presence of grime and gasoline.  Snow-capped mountains would be a constant backdrop to the stretch of scenery I’d see when I peer out my window.

And the hills would always be green.

Or white, you know, in winter.

As an environmental biology graduate, I’ve always felt an inherent responsibility to do my part in contributing to “saving the earth,” for lack of a better term.  I try to recycle (when I remember), I flip off the lights when I’m not in a room (when I remember), I’ve started to shut off the faucet when I’m brushing my teeth (mostly, I remember).

What irks me slightly is that all my little efforts are countered by the other one I live with.  My neat little pile of recyclables are chucked straight down into the trash chute, lights mysteriously switch back on in an unoccupied room, and the faucet is left unattended when he’s doing the dishes, abandoned for a phone call or a juicy TV program.

“Doesn’t matter what we do, we’re only one household out of thousands anyway.”

Well, in a way, he’s right.  Most likely, my individual contribution is less than a drop in the worldly ecological bucket, but I like to think that there are more of me out there, doing the same little things and thinking the same romantically ideal thoughts, and that something really does change.

It helps by making the extra 10 yards to the recycling bin a little more worth it.

Photography by: Pierre Siedel

I enjoy perusing craigslist missed connections from time to time, when all my shows have been watched and reading books and blogs just don’t appeal to me enough to abate my boredom.

It’s a sweet demonstration of the idealism and hope that only we as humans can experience, but just a little sad too.  How many missed connections are genuine?  How many are hopeful? How many are just reaching to the last strands of desperation, so enamored by their brief encounter: a fleeting glance, a knowing smile, a few memorable words…that they resort to online classifieds to reconnect?

And of course, I selfishly wonder, have there ever been any that refer to me?

Though highly doubtful, I’d like to think that I would make enough of an impression to linger on in some stranger’s memory, whether it be a man or a woman or adult or child, for them to wonder aloud to the internet if I noticed them as well.

…a handful of bristles and unconditional love. :)