Secret Pop

Dec 14, 2002

The Strange and the Familiar

It's something to be re-introduced. To hear someone say, "Hey, everyone, Mary's here!" To have everyone wonder how you've been and what you've been up to. To realize that it's been so long since they've seen you that it makes sense for them to comment on how wonderful you look. Or how slender. Or how mischievous. I realize, at such times, that I am not terribly enthusiastic about presenting anyone with a snapshot of where I am today. I tell them where I live. Where I have and haven't decided to earn my keep. That sort of thing. But mostly, I sort of feel as if very little has changed. And I don't have a litany of exciting dollops of life to pass out. It would be nice if I could just have some notecards made that I could hand out that would list the salient points. But I fear that would appear rude and against the social norm. I do a lot. But I'm too tired and beleaguered to crow about it.

My world was once filled with wonder. And an antsy, itchy urgency to take it all in. To drink it all down. To get drunk on it. In spurts, my world becomes a mess of time constraints and priorities and not being able to be two places at once. There are fewer opportunities to have a look around and sigh and say, I like it here.

There's the matter of this rut to contend with.

But it's still pleasant to be reminded that there are people who are happy when you appear and glad to see you. If I were making a list for the sake of resolution, I would say that more time should be made for happy reunions. Every day needn't be a punch in the face.

Also, there are people I dislike for smelling bad. Camels smell bad, but I never feel angry at them for it. Some people I look forward to catching up with. Others I hear myself hopscotching through the events of the past year or two, and I realize I'm thinking, Hm. I don't want to be talking to you anymore. I wonder if I'm being fair. And I wonder if I have any obligation to be.

I don't think I am a fan of most pink things.

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