In Plain Sight ... One of the most difficult moments in anyone's life is when the fog of childhood lifts and we see for the first time our parents as people

We all live in hiding. In one way or another, each of us conceals pieces of ourselves from the rest of the world. Some people hide because their lives depend on it, others because they don't like being seen. And then there are the special cases, the ones who hide because... because... because they just want someone to care enough to look for them.

Happily ever after.  The big lie. Those three insidious words, repeated again and again, promising myself and a gazillion other little girls that some day, sure as the sunset, a man prettier than ourselves would sweep us away. To live our lives forever and a day. Blah blah, blah. Never once mentioning the years of quiet desperation that surely followed. Which is why I pray with all my soul that whoever invented the lethal mantra "happily ever after" died penniless, face down in the gutter, with cats gnawing on his ears.

Funny how things like mortgage payments and a desire to not eat cat food can get between a person and their principles. Damn, I hate principles.

People hate change. Oh, we all say we want to change; get thinner, quit smoking, learn to speak Portuguese, but we don't. For better or worse, our habits define us. We turn the pages of the same tattered script over and over, clinging to our well rehearsed routines like barnacles, and nothing rankles us more than having to learn new lines.

I think my least favorite phrase in the human language is "I'm sorry." Nine times out of ten when a person says they're sorry, they're really only sorry they got caught, and now want me to forgive them for something I'm still pissed off about. Which puts me in the unhappy position of either saying, "Up yours" and looking like a total bitch, or saying, "I forgive you" and feeling like a total schmuck.

I stare agape at Sunday couples. Sidewalk strollers, fingers laced, heads on shoulders, hearts laid bare. Audacious highwire artists, soaring netless. Oblivious or brave? Ignorant idiots, I observe from my spectator view. Hoping no one hears this screaming inside my head.

It’s been said neurotics build castles in the sky, psychotics live in them and psychiatrists collect the rent. I wonder who they call for home repair?

We forget sometimes how much the world can hurt, it can hurt people we love, people we don't, people caught in the middle. even people who would give anything if they could just never ever get to hurt again. but sometimes the hurt can't be avoided, its coming at us and can't be stopped. It's in us and can't be seen, or it's lying next to us in the dark, waiting. but sometimes it doesn't come at all. sometimes we get this other thing that flutters down out of nowhere and stays just long enough to give us hope, sometimes rarely, barely, but just when we need it the most and expect it the least, we get a break..."

Whether it's secrets, justice or the Amazon rainforest, every one of us protects things a thousand times a day. It doesn't take a gun; for most of us, protection is as quiet and reflexive as a breath. For some, though, for knights in shining armor, the lone ranger, a boyfriend or a mom, protection can be a hard habit to break. As much as we thump the bible about the vital need to change, the fact is, we hardly ever do. We stay here, halfway to happy, in our old familiar places, with our feet stuck firmly on the ground.

The little guy. The underdog. David as opposed to Goliath. These are who we're raised to root for, to climb every mountain, take on all comers, the shock the world with a win at Lake Placid, and once in a blue moon they do. But the unerring fate that every little guy will find love, bring home the gold, or slay the dragon is in reality the stuff dreams are made of, or rather fairytales. Just saying.