There's something about an onion.
What is it?
I heard that if you put a bowl of cold water next to you as you chop it that the tears won't flow.
There's something about an onion.
And even if there is none in sight, tears flow.
If you eat a raw onion, there is this feeling within, hot, stable, sensational from the taste buds to the toe tips.
I chopped an onion and ate the whole thing. I've never done that before. I feel it everywhere and now it's coming out my pores and my breath.
Sorry.
There's something about an onion.
I needed to feel and there are worse things you could do.
That gives you a reason to shed tears, even if you are the hardest person out there that doesn't cry, even when watching, 'Terms Of Endearment.'
I'm tough.
Onions are tough. You don't look at them and weep. You have to cut a little into the layers to get where it really makes the water works flow.
I'm a fucking onion. I won't cry when I talk to my mother or when I see my father fall off the bed. I won't cry when I see my sister get angry or the dog hide in fear. I won't cry. I won't cry.
I went to lunch with a dear friend the other day.
We went to a place that favored my fare, vegan, raw, whatever, just tell me it is.
We had good conversation. The food was delish.
The music that played in the background, great...until a very sentimental version of 'The Rainbow Connection' played and I lost it. Over my kale and beet salad, I lost it.
And the fucking Rainbow fucking connection. Give me a break.
I don't know when I'm going to lose it.
I have a student/teacher friend of mine that lost her father.
She said that it's ok, to want to come home and cover myself with the blanket. That it's ok, not to wash my face when I go to bed. That even the easiest tasks become difficult.
I wish there was a rule book or manual to tell me the like.
Something that told me it was ok, to be how I am right now.
It would be different if I were home with my mother and sisters. They find humor and laughter among the hell cancer brings to a family. But I'm alone in LA, with only the emails and phone calls that remind me of the hell they are going through while I live 'normally' and deal with the loss and demise of my dad from a far.
I can talk to them and hear the stories, but I am not there.
I am only dealing in the way that hasn't been written, hasn't been told. I'm dealing and I don't know how.
I take a yoga class, run miles like someone is chasing me.
I eat a raw onion.
I walk home alone with a smile on my face, exchanging pleasant glances with strangers, then I hear a song and I am weeping... in public. Thank god for the base ball cap and sun glasses. Thank god for the hollywood uniform. I fit in. It's not plastic surgery or fame, just sadness. Thank goodness we can hide sadness so well here.
I gulp. I pull back. I'm a woman. Perhaps it's PMS, a break up. I hope the others think such triviality.
I walk home with the beautiful beach to my left and blinding water in my eyes. I can't walk another step. Please help. Please hug. Please.
But I don't know when it's going to hit. When the breath will be fowl, when the tears will flow. When my face will morph into something other than peace and complacency and find pain.
I'm like an onion. Buy me, I'm good for you!
Then cut into me and it's not the most pleasant. Even eating an onion is not the most pleasant.
But I keep buying them and cutting into them. Thank god for burgers. They muffle the pain. Thank god for friends and family, they muffle the pain.
There's something about an onion, that made me think of my life and where I'm at. Layers upon layers to get me here. Tears upon tears to get me here. Many burgers and many fries. Many friends and many family that make it all better going down.
Never eat an onion raw, by yourself. At least have a burger and bun near by or a kid with sparklers to avert your attention.
There's something...
and I'm still trying to figure out what it is.

Just thought this was funny...
Last night, I was having a dream that my blackberry shut down while I was texting...who, I don't know, probably someone fabulous, then the little hour glass showed up and it instantly became the iPhone and I was able to touch screen everything, download the light sabre and play.
Then my phone rang next to my bed and I was awoken, to my old beat up blackberry, which I love, but only reminded me that I slept in too long...8AM, how dare I!!?
However, I dreamt about my blackberry. I dreamt about an iPhone. What the heck is wrong with me that my dreams are now consisting of technology?
How did I get here?
Perhaps wanting what I don't have? I mean, how does one interpret that dream?
There was no flying, no water or other symbolism, just technology.
My how dreams have changed.
Whatever happened to dreaming about money, tropical paradises and McSteamy?
Message sent.