Tag: relationships

She Said

she said, Why did you do that? Don’t you know better?

and she said, No, I don’t feel any warmth for you, so I can’t.

and she said, Call me, and you said, I will.

and she said, You never called, and you said, nothing.

she said, You smell.

and she said, I could never be with someone like you.

and she said, I think you can do anything that you try to do.

and she said, I wish you would have said something.

she said, Stay away from me, I hate you right now.

and she said, Hi, it’s good to see you.

and she said, Let’s get together.

and she said, Good-bye.

 

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Telling

Your silence tells me

something must be wrong

I can’t tell by your face

It’s blank as stone

It bothers me to hear you

staying so still

No matter what I say

Emptiness is all I feel

 

My words run dry

trying to dig something out

I don’t know where to turn

so I just walk out

there’s a distance in the feet between us

that can’t be measured or crossed

I feel my efforts are wasted

and our time has been a loss

 

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Conversing

You ever feel like you’re talking to someone who is having half of the conversation in their head, not saying the words but believing they had?

It can be confusing and exhausting.

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Learning From Writing

I’ve been working on the yard this week. It’s a personal Möbius strip. Cut the front grass, edge, weed, trim. Cut the back grass, edge, weed, trim. Weed, trim, and edge the side yards. Trim back the neighbors’ trees and bushes. Begin again.

I know, it’s my choice to have a lawn and do all of this. I can hire others. I can zeroscape. I’ve considered both. Or I can let the lawn go to hell.

We don’t use weedkillers or anything artificial on our lawn. The weeds multiply. Out come yellow dandelions. We accept them because bees and butterflies love them. I leave the dandelions when I pull the weeds. Well, mostly. I try to keep them at a reasonable number.

I like the yardwork. In a world where projects take so long to accomplish and we rarely see tangible results, the yardwork provides me with satisfaction that I did something. I also like being outside, and sweating, exerting myself, and feeling the sun and wind. It’s great.

Yardwork also frees my writing mind. Not much thought is required for yardwork, and that lets me think about writing and the work in progress.

I had a surprising epiphany about all of that yesterday. I thought, I don’t understand people. I don’t get their thinking. I struggle to understand their motivations.

I know these aren’t simple questions. Adrenalin rushes and endorphin highs contribute to the pursuit of our fixes. Financial gain, self-esteem, respect, and admiration can contribute. The need for revenge provides some stimulus to people, as does immaturity and warped views and skewed memories. Motivations are complex formulas.

I thought, I don’t understand people, and that’s what I like to write. When I write, I can explore the characters’ inner worlds. I can study their thinking and moods, relationships and memories. My future technology lets them have augmented memories and enhanced communications. Technological capabilities blend with organic skills to blur the lines. Personal scanning technology lets measurements of micro-changes in another person’s temperatures, heart rates, pupils and other biological indicators help detect lies. In more sophisticated people, these things can and are masked to trick others through technology.  Sometimes, it’s like a technological chess match.

Writing about these characters help me learn. From them, it’s reaffirmed that humans are complicated. Matters such as truth and motivation are rarely black and white subjects. Skills like memories, self-awareness, and interpersonal communication vary immensely among people, but also in ourselves. We’re not always the same person today that we were yesterday. Allegiances waver. Certainty wobbles. Hopes sink and rise.

Now, with that cleared up for me, I have my coffee. Time to write like crazy, at least one more time.

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Observed

Perhaps wrongly, I’m irritated when someone becomes angry with me for not telling them something that I observed about them after someone else tells them about it, because I infer from their accusation that they tell me everything that they observe about me, and I don’t think they do.

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Tuesday’s Theme Music

I know exactly why and when I started streaming today’s music selection.

I went into the MBR and stripped down in front of a ginger floof. He’d been sleeping but lifted his head and watched me with sleepy eyes, to confirm I didn’t have food and wasn’t a threat. I was speaking to him, telling him what I was doing. Taking off my shirt, I inhaled my armpit essence and told my cat, “Definitely stink this evening. Know what I mean?”

Like that, here comes Lee Michaels streaming through my head with his song, “Do You Know What I Mean”. I enjoyed Lee Michaels’ offerings. This song spoke to me. Its lyrics  seem real and autobiographical. The way he sings it delivers pain and bewilderment juxtaposed against a heavy beat with brass sounds that remind me of a circus environment. It’s is an excellent vehicle to capture relationship confusion.

Back when the song came out, my friends never took to the song. Many current friends know it vaguely or not at all. Hope I’m reacquainting you with a song that you enjoy. Cheers

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Distance Calling

The distance calls me

I try to see

who it is and what they want from me

the distance calls me

from outside

full of hate and telling me lies

the distance calls me

the people I know

urging me to love and telling me to grow

the distance calls me

without knowing why

I hide away and slip inside

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Natalie Said

I like this quote. Writing is a relationship with my mind, and not just an escape or an attempted career path.

It’s always why I like having dreams at night, and remembering and thinking about them. They’re another part of the relationship with my mind.

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Tied

You ever notice that the threads of commonality, through events, emotions, and communications, that tie you to others, are actually strands twisted together that form carbon steel cable that’s much harder to cut or break than you ever imagined?

Yes, it’s easy to say, that’s all over, it’s in the past, but those cables keep you tied. You need to keep cutting and cutting….

 

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The Dare

It was such a small matter.

He said, “I’m going to go check the mail.” Musing about his phrasing, he reached for his shoes. He was not “checking the mail,” he was getting the mail. Odd, they always said, “Check the mail.” Where had that originated?

She said, “I dare you to go like that.”

Stopping, he looked at her. “Like what?”

“In your socks.”

He thought a moment. “Without shoes?”

“Yes.”

“What will you give me?”

As she considered her answer, he considered the temperature. It was thirty-five, but it was dry. “Okay,” he said.

She grinned. “You’re an idjit.”

Yes, he agreed, without speaking, leaving the house. It felt odd to be in his socks, walking on the sidewalk and up the asphalt street, different from being barefoot. His feet seemed to make a different side.

The cats followed him, of course. He saw several neighbors, of course. He waved and nodded to them. He didn’t know if they noticed he was wearing socks but not shoes. What did it matter?

It was a small matter, but it felt so very good.

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