I do believe this is a record for me, 3 entries in one day. Man, I�m just full of thoughts, aren�t I? (This is where you say �Yes, Barb�) Tonight was interesting and totally random. I was all set to go to meditation, actually very excited about it (it�s been way too long!), almost out the door, when my sister called. I was temporarily ignoring her many messages left minutes before I had arrived home from work.

Just found out� Sean is singing Gospel Choir tonight� something for class� I have tickets� you have NO choice but to go with me!!! What? Turns out my brother (in-law) had to take one last Fine Arts class to get the degree he earned years ago, and he chose Gospel Choir. Irish descent, American for God knows how many generations, and a proclaimed Atheist. An ATHEIST, folks! Singing about God and Jesus and all those other bible characters I blocked out from Catholic school those many years ago. I could not pass up an opportunity like this. My sister just found out today that he had to sing in their concert as part of the final. Classic. So Heather, Steph, and I headed on up to UCSD to watch the performance.

And what a performance it was! There are two noteworthy things about this performance. One is tragically and horrifically gruesome, and may have affected me for life. The other, well, it�s beautiful and touching, at least that�s what �I� thought, till Steph pointed out that it was just plain funny. Hmm. Where to begin.

Itch in my cleavage. What could this be? Runaway hair? Get back here, you! I dip a finger in the abyss that is the space between my breasts, seems to be nothing amiss, I continue to enjoy the show, watching Sean�s gray head bob up and down between a sea of young, black-haired gents. A few minutes later, wha?? Left breast, underside, twitching itch, I freak out, what if it�s a bug? No, how would a bug have gotten all the way under there? 20,000 leagues under my breast? I quickly stuck my index finger and thumb into my shirt, into my bra, source of the itch, and I felt something crack between those two precise fingers. Something. Some THING. AAAHHHHH! I froze. What now, what now, dead something in my BRA, in my BRA, on my BOOB, in MY BRA!!!

I look to my right � sister. I look to my left � friend. I got up and made my way through the audience of college kids sitting in the aisle way, on the ramp, in my way, don�t they know I�m having a crisis here? That something could very well be burrowing itself into my flesh having been incited by my imposing fingers? Before I got into the bathroom, I already had my shirt unbuttoned, was lifting up my top, my bra, I didn�t care or notice who was around, I had one mission: GET IT OUT. I didn�t notice the girl standing at the sink on the side as I stood in front of the mirror in the back, shirt up, bra up, breast exposed, examining, brushing imaginary bug off of me with the disgusted countenance of one who�s been given the �willies�. When I turned around and saw her, I explained my predicament. She laughed hysterically � with sympathy, of course, and as I walked out of the bathroom, she was relaying the whole scenario to 3 giggling college girls. I was still horrified.

Got back to my seat. Both Steph and Heather were smiling, and I swear I saw each of them with each of my eyes, separately focused, one to the left, one to the right, as they pointed simultaneously at my feet, at the June beetle that lay dead, the one they saw fly off my lap after I had slapped my breasts spastically before finally getting up to go check things out in the bathroom. My facial expression did not change for the duration of the performance. Like a baby who is fed cauliflower or something else it finds repugnant. Whew! Okay, shake it off, Barb, we can get through this, I know we can!

Oh yes, the other thing, I almost forgot. This is brief in comparison, but poignant to a degree, I believe. A young woman sang a solo, Gospel, heartfelt, the words were beautiful, it was about a woman washing Jesus�s feet with her tears and drying them with her hair, and speaking of a night of passion and love that no one could ever understand. Now, I�m not religious, not per se, not in the traditional �Jesus� sense. The word actually scares me (that�s another story). But this girl, this song, the way she was singing it. At the end, I looked to my sister and saw my reflection in her face. We were both brought to tears by the beauty and emotion of it and shared a knowing smile.

That�s when Steph said, �You guys kill me. That�s so hysterical.� So, certain octaves and words can bring me to tears, and I guess it runs in my blood. Damn Hallmark commercials. Sentimental shit always pierces right through my emotional armor and squeezes my heart like Charmin, and the result is an overflowing of saline, which finds its way right out of my eyes.

Interesting evening. I feel like I have bugs all over me, and I�ll never look at �lefty� the same way again. Sigh.

-Barbarella

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