Skip to main content

Stormy Weather and Lightning Balls

I was talking to a friend of mine last week and she told me 'People miss you on, Facebook, dude.'

I told her I wasn't sure when I'd be back...if I'd be back.  To which she said "Take your time, or do your thing and keep it off. Whatever is good for your soul."

And that was one of the coolest things anyone has ever said to me.

Whatever is good for your soul. That's really what's it's all about, isn't it? I left facebook once before. Left it in May. Came back to it in August.

Again this year, it was May or so when I left.  I don't see a reason to go back. I don't know. I have spent large portions of my life feeling alone in a crowd. Very few people, I think, get me. I don't know if that's their fault, or my fault, or even something to consider a fault. It's pretty much just the way I feel. I have felt that way most of my life.  Maybe it's a defense mechanism. Like the blackouts.

Not drug or alcohol induced blackouts or anything like that (although I have a few of those too), but good old fashioned gaps in my memory.

The most recent one that keeps popping up is of a company picnic my parents talk about. Sorry mom and dad...I smile when you tell the story, but as I live and breathe, I really can't remember much about the day at all. I remember being in the canoe. I remember it tipping over. I remember the lunch boxes floating. But mostly that day exists for me as though I'm looking at it through several layers of grey gauze. I see large shapes and moving objects, but the entire day never quite shifts in to that crystal clear focus. Hopefully that will change.

I find that much of my life, as I look back, is like that. I don't really know what it means. I remember almost none of the childhood I see in pictures at my parents house. Bits and pieces here and there.

I am somewhat envious of people who can recount with staggering detail their entire life's story. I am not one of those people.

Maybe that's why I write. Or maybe, that's what happened to the memories. The imagination was so strong and the urge to write so great that it put all of my actual memories in little boxes and tucked them in to the unused corners of my brain.

Dunno. I may never know.  Maybe I'm already advanced in years and hooked up to a hospital bed somewhere. Buxom young nurses doting around commenting about how they are so lucky to be taking care of the comatose famous author. Wife crying by the bedside. Grandchildren coming in dutifully once a week to talk to the vegetable that used to be something.

I mean, how do you know? What the hell is reality anyway?

Life can change in an instant.

It changed for an off-duty firefighter last night. A friend of mine had come over from Dayton to go to the Crew game with me. He scored us tickets. I was standing in line to get my scarf and he was getting us $9 beers and it started to rain.

I thought ahead and had packed a couple of ponchos in my purse (as the security guard at the gate called it while he looked through it) and as soon as I paid for my scarf, I gave Ed his poncho.

It wasn't but 10 minutes later that all hell broke loose and the skies opened up. Dumping rain down in buckets.

Lightning caused a delay of game.  And with each strike, additional time was added. Then I saw the firetruck and squad going through the parking lot. I figured someone had slipped on the metal stairs or had some kind of shock.

At 10 minutes after 9, they called the game. Canceled. I got home about 10 and delved in to some Fireball and bad movies on Netflix.

It wasn't until later I learned that someone was struck by lightning and that was what I saw the squad for.

Crazy. Things change in an instant. I was almost struck by lightning. Twice. Close enough to have all of the hair on my body stand on end and to smell the ozone as it struck. It wasn't something I'll soon forget (even though it happened 15 years ago). I say that now, but given my proclivity for memory issues, there's a good chance I'll only remember it after reading it in my blog years hence.

I had some brilliantly insightful post all planned out last night before I went to bed.

I really need to write that shit down when I think of it. I wonder how many stories have vanished out in to the universe because I convinced myself that I would have no problem remembering them when I next sat down to write.

Rookie mistake.

Alright--with that I'm going to bed. It's been kind of a weird weekend.

Peace
-A.T.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Marriage Material??

I had a friend call me today, fuming. I consider myself a good listener on most days. Considering that I was out of town on a work trip and doing absolutely nothing in my hotel room, my listening game was on-point.

She recounted the exchange that sent her off. I will spare you some of the more personal details, but the gist was, at one point, the dude-bro she was talking to flat out told her that she wasn’t marriage material.

Torn between wanting to be a supportive friend and being completely gobsmacked, I felt her frustration. No. That’s not quite right. I didn’t feel the same frustration she felt. I’m approaching what some consider middle age. I’m white. I’m primarily interested in women. Oh, and I have a penis. So...no, I can never truly feel the same frustration she was feeling. Or an anger that comes from the same place her anger came from. No matter how in touch I am witn my feminine side (whatever the fuck that actually means).

Instead, the frustration and anger I was feeling w…

Out of Sorts

Not sure what my deal is today. I got up this morning to go for a walk and it was spitting rain, but no biggie. My thriftstore Nikes were kind of hurting my feet, so that didn't help. But it felt good to go for the walk (other than the hurting feet). And it's all going well...and then I get into work and just turn into PMS-Man.  I don't know what my deal is. I just feel bitchy this morning and I'm not sure why. So..um. Yeah. That's all I got.

Post Con-Fusion

It's 5:40 AM on a Wednesday. I have been up for an hour. I have an outline for a work in progress that I intended to work on this morning. I was in the middle of a chapter that I started at lunch and had every intention of continuing this morning. But, much like me, it seems the characters wanted to sleep in today. They wanted to just hunker under the covers as the rain danced its hypnotic melody on my roof. The swoosh swoosh swoosh of the ceiling fan keeping time with the rest of the nocturnal orchestra.

So, I shifted gears. I am taking  a course on getting more words on the page. Something that I want to do need to do if I am to get all of these books that are floating around in my head out in to the world. It's not so much that I think the whole world will love and adore them, although I certainly hope that is the case. No, it's more the fact that it's getting crowded up there. I need to get these words on the page for my own sanity as much as anything else.

Sanity,…