
while the young turks continue to be all manner of awesome, of course, i don't feel like i can include them again in my friday favourites because if i start mentioning them every time they do something i love, this is going to turn into the "kate's unseenly worshiping of cenk and his cohorts blog that is prevented from contacting them by court order because they find her a little bit creepy" autonomous zone]. once again and at the risk of ending up with a restraining order slapped against me, cenk, if you ever need a token white chick to provide the fairness and balance that seems so important in u.s. media, i'm right here.
so in the interest of keeping friday favourites a little more vibrant and less repetitive, i thought i'd use this forum [it's my blog, after all] to share a different kind of favourite: a favourite memory.
i won't say that this is the best memory that i have, but it is one of the ones that is closest to my heart and it's one that, despite it's lack of immediate ramifications, has struck me as a truly defining moment in my life.
let me set the scene:

i set out on foot, because that was basically my only option [i have always been a little uncomfortable committing to use public transit in a city where there isn't a very clear map provided] and left the hotel, which seemed to exist on its own little island, for more musically inclined pastures.
the fact that the hotel was on its own island, as were all the hotels in the immediate vicinity, meant that the first thing that i had to do was cross a bridge over water in order to get to the mainland of the city. that didn't sit well with me, but i was determined to find the music somewhere and i only had one option to go on. as i was leaving the hotel, however, i saw a man standing on the bridge who seemed way to excited to be trustworthy. he seemed to be moving to the edge of the bridge and then stepping back for no reason.

i have to say that among my considerations was the fact that i am and have always been a strong swimmer. i figured that, at the worst, if he decided to try to hurl both of us to a watery grave, the most i stood to lose was my purse and the cash i had on me.
as i approached, i was aware that the man seemed pleased that i'd responded. having talked people off proverbial ledges before, i took this as a good sign. i approached, smiling and trying to keep my body language as open and purely friendly as i could, i walked up to him. then, as i got within earshot, i heard him say:
"they told me you could see them at the hotel, but i didn't believe them."
i will say that, heard from the point of view of someone who thinks she is approaching a potential suicide case, that is a very strange sentence to hear. instead of seeming cautious, the man seemed oddly open. i have to say that this was really only enough to shift my opinion of him from "depressed" to "crazy", meaning that i went from expecting to have to jump into the water after him to save him to expecting i'd have to break free and swim to shore to escape some perceived suicide pact. the bottom line is that one way or another, i thought this guy was bad news and that one way or the other, he was my bad news to deal with.
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and see i did.
pasing underneath us was a huge population of rays. some were lighter in colour than others, but whatever their differences, they were all shockingly close to the surface and they were all moving en masse to the wider part of the bay. for what seemed like an hour, they passed beneath the bridge, their perfect diamond forms unmistakable for anything else. there was something almost poetic about the way they floated by underneath us- tourists waiting to experience the real. [and, at the same time, i have to say that our mutual excitement for that moment makes me believe that we were both people seeking to experience something beyond the normal tourist circuit.]

as strangely still as this moment was, i continue to reflect on it as both a defining moment in my life and as an epiphany. it was an epiphany simply because the beauty of the rays moving heedlessly past us struck me and, to this day, the memory of it makes my heart flutter a little. but as a defining moment, it is something that i can point to as evidence that, even in the face of all rationality, my instinctive consciousness gives me a strange confidence that no rationality can explain. with every step i took towards that unknown man on the bridge in tampa, i could have been taking a step further into danger. but something in my brain lead me to believe that fear should always be secondary to my curiosity. people can tell me that they disagree as much as they want, but they can never change the perfect memory of that moment, where i gave myself over to my irrational, intuitive side. and that is the most exquisite form of validation.
if you have any singular moments you'd like to share, or any comments at all you'd like to make, please feel free. until then, all the best to each of you.
of course, there is someone who was left very unsatisfied in the last week. in fact, he was quick to point out that in my multi-cat image of last week, he was left out, indicating that i favour quantity of kitteh over quality. nothing could be further fromthe truth. and so, without further ado, here is this week's regal feline, kind arthur: