People are cunts

People are cunts he says. He is poison to you. You’re just too naïve to see it but will bitch and moan about it to me later. You’ll expect me to put up with your self indulgent whining bullshit except of course I won’t because I’m warning you now. We’ll fight. You’ll wonder why I couldn’t have just listened without being such a “looser” and I’ll wonder why the fuck you can’t get it through your thick head that loser is spelt with one ‘o’. We’ve been over this time and time again. I want nothing to do with it. Run your stupid escapades and go out with the fucker but know that I will be right. And know that if you get hurt I won’t hear of it.”

A walk by the lake and a very decently priced weeping yogi statue are what started up this mess. I couldn’t help it. Who wouldn’t want a statue to carry their burdens for them? Damn it wouldn’t you want him to weep so you could rejoice? Wtf? Why is that such a bad thing to want for someone? I most definitely would want someone to want it for me. The mere thought of them wanting that for me is gift enough. And though I don’t by into the mystic healing crystal crap people try to sell I couldn’t help but want this statue. Not for me but for someone else.
This is what I do. I buy stuff for everyone other than myself. This time, much like the travel care package I’d once sent to a person I hadn’t met yet, I knew at the back of my head this was above and beyond.

It’s the above and beyond I’ve come to notice that people don’t trust. Like it’s not humanly possible to nice to someone without wanting something in return. People look at me in that way. With questioning eyes, with these thoughts that kill the joy in giving. Looks that make me feel like I have to defend myself. “no I really don’t want anything from you I just thought you’d like it… I saw it and remembered you so I paid for it and brought it here”

You think four weeks after the initial “I’ve got something to give you when are you free” sms I’d have picked up that I wasn’t a top priority?
Sandy’s drunken Jiminy cricket: Of course not! Shame on you. People are busy. They have things to do and lives to lead. It’s not a big deal.
Sandy’s muzzled sound of reason: Yeah but you live in the same city about a 5 min drive. Wtf are u thinking. Why does dude even deserve a gift?
Sandy’s drunken Jiminy cricket: It’s not about deserving, its about my want to give. Since when do people give gifts cuz the recipient deserves it?!

So patient and excuse after excuse giving I was. And about 5 weeks later after I’d flipped out and told dude I no longer wanted to give him the gift that it is now devoid of meaning and utterly anticlimactic, many failed attempts to meet up, and an out of character mean spirited social embarrassment initiated by none other than moi, I gave dude the gift.

And as I was sitting there watching him talk to some other chickie on the phone as I waited to dig into my calamari hoping it wouldn’t get cold, trying to keep myself busy by drawing on the paper cloth, thanking the creativity gods for Crayola and the ingenious person who came up with this idea, desperately humming a tune to a song that didn’t exist just so I wouldn’t have to hear what he was saying, not letting any of it get to me. And then something clicked. And just like that… the noise around me drowned out and all I could see were his lips moving devoid of meaning devoid of words. “I deserve better than this.” Not because he’s not a smart enough or witty enough or polite enough or charming enough or charismatic enough but because cell phones need to be turned off at the dinner table! And should they happen to ring whilst still seated they either need to be ignored or answered and hung up quickly. Such a stupid insignificant thing but indicative of many things none the less. I made a face. This was the last straw. His last benefit of the doubt.

Sandy’s emancipated sound of reason: He has consumed all his chances. Chances he should not have been given. The signs were there. Signs you chose to ignore hoping he’d prove you wrong. You were right. Your friend was right and now you’ve gone and forfeited your right to bitch and moan. And this fucker smugly sitting in front of you, arrogant with confidence, blind to who you are, won’t give you a second thought.

He hangs up the phone, an inquisitive look comes over my face and I ask rhetorically “would you agree that people are cunts?” I look away….
and let the words sit in the uncomfortable silence I’ve unintentionally created for him as I ponder the question.
…
….
…..
…..
I smile whole heartedly as I come out of my deep thought. “I’m sorry my thoughts escape me sometimes. That was entirely out of context… try my calamari its fantastic.”

My shrapnel clad pavement

My pulse beats still.
I’m here though not all there.
Fragments of the person I once was at some point in a dimension of time I now question ever existed.
Carefree no more yet resilient to the contradicting state of translucency vs. opaqueness that characterize this very familiar hue of jade.
I’ve decided the remedy to my idleness is ill reason.
Callus and cold to logic and rationale, I’ve cast them aside.
Today I take off,
I soar and I pray to the Gods I catch the wind in my sails.
I forgo the encounter of the twists and turns of fate whose acoustics will inevitably echo a thud, spit, crackle and pop as I not so gracefully meet my shrapnel clad rock bottom.
Embracing all I am and who I’ve become…. Wiser but perhaps not so wise… older and perhaps still not so old… A forced student of realism but still perhaps a resident of never never land… I take a leap towards all that is “emotionally irrational” so hold my breath and you the door for me.

How sweet it is!

You know it’s going to be a good day when the perfect song plays on your car stereo, the sun bathes everything in its glorious warmth and the colors in the red breasted robin’s feathers contrast the dull grey of the highest single point on a lamp post after you’ve found the closest parking spot to your destination.