I have no desire to read Jodi Picoult

Once I was into “my feelings”, now I try to ignore them until they go away. I don’t know if something permanently was shut off when my brother Zach died but since then, I am not interested in touchy lovey stuff. Often I wonder what kinda girl I would be today if he hadn’t died nearly 10 years ago. (can’t believe that this October it will be a landmark 10 years) For a long time I had fantasized that he had “accidentally” had a baby with some young girl and magically his offspring would come to be raised by me. What kind of weirdness is that? Well, no 9 year old has shown up at my doorstep, I think it is pretty safe to assume that this fantasy is officially dead for me. (no pun intended)
We went to the quince anos last night. It was a balls-out celebration complete with mariachis, a coreographed dance routine, a power point presentation of the young girl’s life, and enough meat to have left overs for a good week. I have been saved the pressure of having to hold one of these parties, there are no girl children in this household. The first time I ever went to one of these parties I cried and I didn’t even know the girl or her family. I thought it was a moving experience to see a ceremonious coming of age. Last night, I leaned over repeatedly to a friend and found myself saying “now that’s mildly creepy” when all I could see was a elbow length white glove shoot up above all the heads of those in front of me, pointer finger extended to the ceiling while she was carried on the shoulders of ”los chambelanes” during the waltz.
I might just be bitter and it may have been bound to happen regardless of life circumstance. I have to say, it does make life easier and therefore I think better when the tears and broken-ness ended. Today, I just want everyone to buck up and quit snivelling.