Filters

When Shannon and I started to hang out we learned that each of us were suffering from a condition we so fondly christened, "a lack of filter". This is to say that whatever was swirling around inside our little noggins, would tend to pop out if the opportunity presented itself. Never was it malicious, though, hurtful it still could be. We were more the type that would actually tell people if we were sad (after they had asked how our day was), or on the other side of the spectrum, would gush all the goodness we felt about a person when they happened to come round. Long ago my filter grew back. I found that my spouting off everything I was feeling made it hard to work, hard to play and hard to feel like an average person. I found that I needed a balance between letting my heart show and keeping everything walled up inside my inner fortress (which is how I was prior to this).

So, I do understand a thing about filters. I also understand about putting a foot in one's mouth. I've done that, too. But each time it's happened, I've known what I've done. I've apologized, and those "I'm sorry"s have been heart felt and sincere.

Now, what I am coming to understand is that not everyone cares if they hurt someone's feelings. They do not care that using the disclaimer, "I don't mean to offend you, but..." or "I'm saying this as a friend..." doesn't make it OK. Yes, we've all offended people, but when that happens, we do our best to make ammends. Or at least some of us do.

Is it time to subtract more from my life? I just finished, earlier this week, my post about weeding bad things (people) out. At that time, I was feeling good about those I allow in. Now, I am unsure. What's worse is that it's not just ONE person. I've had no less than FOUR people, this week, disappoint me in how they treat me. And when told that I did not appreciate how things were going down, I was either ignored or told I was over reacting and being bitchy. I am tempted to come out of my corner, fighting... stooping to the same level as they do. But then I know I am more talk than action in that respect, I couldn't live with myself knowing I'd hurt someone I cared about.

Mathematics

Lately, I have been thinking about the math of my life. There are always new equations to contend with: the addition and, sometimes, subtraction of people and ideals. There is the algebra aspect, where I try to make each side of a new situation even. And, always, I try to keep my answers in the "real" realm, that is to say that I require a positive and not a negative outcome.

While it is true that I am a sole number, I would not go back to being the second half of the pair I once was. I realize that I am better off with my ever changing formulas. I can factor out that which I do not need to make my life work.

My additions far outweigh that which was taken away.

I could never believe my friendship with Shannon ever getting past the initial, polite stages had it not been for late night phone calls, distracting emails and random bursts of laughter over very weird and random things.

I can't imagine not only being so close to my cousin Steven, if it hadn't been for my being on my own.

Never would I have considered Brandy more than family, had it not been for being forced to put my trust in someone new. Any friendship we may have had would never have been so strong... never would we have had shared experiences and stories and early morning secrets while travelling.

I would have lost out on lessons of friendship and committment from Carol. I would have missed knowing there was someone so similar to myself, and yet so completely different. I would have never had the pleasure of introducing Gladys and Millie to the world, emailing walkie talkie sounds or bouncing rubber balls in a church parking lot in the dark of night.

Missing from life would have beem seeing Julie cry when she laughs, and feeling like I'd accomplished something great when it was I that reduced her to those tears. I would not have ever received text messages on my cell about toast, or Jesus or Tim Horton's chili. I would have missed out on boy talk, birthday surprises and much giggling.

Kept to the sidelines would have been Des, Pat, Wing and Johnny. I would never known the delight that is every other person I choose to have in my life. I would not believe myself to be a storyteller, or someone that could make people laugh. I would never have licked Chaucer's tomb or the tower of London. I would never have been kissed in Scotland (nor Greece, for that matter). There would have been no call to sew a superman cape or to admit to a crush on a friend. I would have missed having Stewart and Elizabeth. I would even have missed out on making mistakes and poor decisions.

These additions are what my life are. I would gladly give up, once again, what I had for them. I would live through the sadness and the pain to have what I have now. I am more complete, more balanced for having been part of a subtraction.

Tidbits

The past few days, perhaps even nearing a week or two, there has been a substantial change in my funny bone. Something is different, and while I am not sure what this could be, it seems positive, and has lasted for more than an hour or two, so I am claiming it. It's mine. It's brought me to a place I was before. Nearly six months (or possibly much more than that, I fear) has passed since I've felt myself.

Now, for anyone who know me (or at least knows the good part of me), this will be demonstrated by the fact that I have reverted back to a state where I find much more of life fairly random and am given to fits of giggling because it really is ever so ridiculous.

Though I am sure not everyone will get these, and those that do, will probably not understand why I am printing them (perhaps being funny only to myself). The following statements and ideas (or something close to them, since I am not even pretending to use direct quotes) have caused me much joy:

When talking about sending Kenny a singing telegram for his birthday, "man in a chicken suit OK?" is the greatest question one can ask. Being told that said chicken would receive a thrashing for his troubles is an adequate, if not laughable, response.

Telling Shannon that Sundays should not include dinner parties will then degenerate to mumbling (via msn, no less) about how Sundays are for movies and just what the proper placement of butter in a bag of popcorn should be... which then leads to a rant about how other nations should have free refills so that one can send Julie for a refill before the movie starts, but to make sure she doesn't take any money with her, just to see if she can get free butter.

Having spent an entire day (noon to 8 PM) with Carol... with nearly six hours of that day being spent at The Tea Place (much to the dismay of the owners and employees, I am sure). While sitting at the table we have now claimed as our own, we experienced all the flavours of life: philosophical and theological discussions, pie, laughter, tears, discussions and confessions of bodily functions and even a practical demonstration of how dwelling on the topic of broken bones can make a person physically sick.

Waterpark hair.

"Bobbie, I think we are missing a lot of pieces to this puzzle!" (in reference to the 100 piece puzzle... children's puzzle... that we assembled at The Tea Place) We were not missing pieces, by the way, we are just too hasty when we can't make the pieces fit right away.

Big Hair Carol.

Hearing there is a "more efficient way" to fill the princess pez dispensers than how we had been doing it all our lives before.

Windsor salt, old beer commercials and being Canadian.

Ninja skills being discussed as a standard for accepting a man as a potential mate.

Being told by Wayne that it's just like before going to war.

Going to ask Julie a question about a bridesmaid dress and instead being reduced to laughter through tears (when I needed it most).

"If I don't laugh, I'll cry."

Cheese discussions at I.G.A. with Tanya, my only contribution being, "I like provalone." Having Tanya say it, at the same time, being an added bonus.

J.C. text messages from both Brandy and Julie (making my catholic heart guffaw and cringe, all at the same time!).

Travel talk with strangers.

"If you aren't going to show, just say so..." (being called on a most unpleasant character trait and having a good time because of it).

"I will order... one bowl of steamed white rice... oh, I didn't really want that, I was just being an ass."

"Happy Birthday. That is all."

As a side note, I find every person who made an appearance here, whether named or unnamed, remarkable.

For Sale

For Sale:

One Castle.

Fortified stone walls reaching 40 feet, vertically, and surrounding the property, ensure privacy AND protection from pesky outsiders.

High slit windows, originally intended for defending against attackers, pilagers and other unwanted visitors, also add the illusion of eternal dusk. This preferred new style of lighting enhances all decor, no matter how dismal.

Security equals safety with a traditional European moat, fully loaded with snapping turtles, alligators and pirahnas. This waterway circles the entire grounds and boasts a newly stained drawbridge for access in and out of the property.

Drawbridge is in working order, though will require maitenance, as its spring mechanism tends to snap back, pulling the bridge up at any given time (whether actually in use or not). (Drawbridge workmen may be able to deodorize the moat water, as it has become stagnant and smells as soon as the light of day hits it).

Sentries are not required, though this castle does employ a full staff, presently. The guards can be kept on retainer, if desired.

Surrounding area is heavily forested and makes for a delightful backdrop, should one climb high enough to stare out the slit windows. It should be noted that would be visitors CAN hide in the woods, so extra caution should be taken in keeping any and all people out.

Cost of Castle and those amenities included: Am willing to negotiate.

My Mom thinks I'm cool...

I was talking to my mom on the phone today, about a friend. We were talking about relationships and I mentioned that this friend has his fancy set on someone. My mom asked, "Is it Bobbie, he maybe likes?". No, I answered, it's not me. Then I realized this is not the first time my mother has assumed that very thing. Whenever I bring up a friend or aquaintence, she seems to think that this person is enamoured with myself. I will never understand why she thinks this, but my life has now boiled down to, "But my mom thinks I'm cool enough.".

Sucking the marrow out of life

Christmas time means many things to many people. In my family it means huge upheaval and usually a big blowout between the parents. This time of good tidings and joy seems to be a catalyst for tears, yelling and the threat of divorce. And who is standing between them? Me. I am pulled into the drama, with phone calls at work, phone calls at home and the imminent display of emotions when I stop by to visit.

So, it has dawned on me, yet again, that my family sucks the life right out of me. With the exception of faking my own death and living a life of quiet solitude abroad, in Scotland, I have no idea what I can do. And I now realize the severity of the problem when the only plan that is appealing to me is to fake a shark attack and leave only my underwear (with my name clearly written with a black sharpie inside so as to easily identify the "remains") behind. I do wonder if any of them would believe a shark attack? Probably not, since landlocked Alberta probably comes in somewhere near the bottom of the list for fatalities at sea. What about a farming incident? No, they would expect to find body parts along with the underpants. Besides, everyone knows I lack the proper plow skills to work on a farm (although NOT having plow skills could CONTRIBUTE to my demise, now couldn't it?).

I must face facts. I am stuck between a rock and bunch of nutters, and no amount of strewn underwear is going to get me out.

Drivel

Thoughts written as I was sitting in a Second Cup. I had been invited out for coffee by a friend, and was left to my own devices to find amusement when the girl he liked called him. Here is the fruit of my boredom...

I dream of seeing you when you are old. Your skin will be soft and wrinkled; your silver hair will be thinned to near baldness. I will be happy to know you had never even attempted to hide it with a bad comb-over. You reason that, in your life, you had laughed at too many uncles and your father’s friends to try it with a clear conscience. Your eyes will be magnified by the thick lenses you will have to wear; but I will tease you that it only means that I get to see even more of your beautiful eyes. You will hold my gaze and tell me they are only reflecting the beauty you see in me. I will give you a little laugh and lightly slap you across your shoulder, letting you know I can see through your flattery, but inside I will feel the same thrill as I did when I was a girl and looked as pretty as I felt.


I look forward to hear what you will tell our children as they move out of our nest and begin their lives apart from us. Your advice will fill their ears with wisdom from our life together; my head will fill with the memories that cast that counsel. The peace and calmness of our home will be restored once more, reminiscent of a time before teenagers, children or babies, when it was but the two of us. Now, as then, I can hear you call to me, “I love you…” from some other room in the house. I will follow the sound of your voice and when I find you, you will embrace me from behind. You will whisper to me that I am your happiness, your reason for being. My heart will be so light with the joy I feel to be near you. I will respond to your words with a kiss loaded with my own blissful thoughts of you.

I am eager to sit with you outside, watching the sun rise after talking all night. We will have been fighting about some trivial thing which felt so much bigger a few hours before. After our anger has been spent, we will begin the act of reconciling by holding each other’s hands, and eventually cuddling in the chilled dawn air. You will wrap me up in the sweater you had been wearing, and your scent embraces me just as your arms do. Your own smell is a gentle presence reminding me of everything you mean to me. You catch me breathing in the fragrance that is you and I will hear you laugh. You tell me that on those rare occasions when we find ourselves sleeping apart, in different beds in distant cities, you have breathed in my own scent from my pillow as you lay waiting to doze off. You will say that some little piece of me is needed to close your eyes and let go. Much like our youngest daughter, I think, whose purple teddy is required before laying down to sleep.

I desire to stand beside you, my hand holding yours, as we recite our vows of love and of a promised lifetime together. A few years later, I will be anxious to inform you that you will be a father. This is something I will say to you three times, each time with cheeks flushed, anticipating your reaction... you never disappoint me. In our years together we will relate to each other the daily trials and delights that make up life. Through my tears I will recount the story of our eldest child’s first steps, and her subsequent spill into the corner of the coffee table, as we sit in the emergency waiting room. In this same room, at some future time you will tell me how our son’s broken arm isn’t the end of the world; it is just the end of his baseball season. During these growing years we will make known to each other our hopes for our family, for each other, and we will also share our fears. Every day, I will tell you the most important thing I have in my heart… “I love you”. Again and again, you never disappoint me with your reaction.

I long to feel your lips on mine; every day your touch reminding me of our first kiss after you will have walked me to my door. One of your hands will guide me by the small of my back; the other entwines its fingers through mine. Since then, our hands have spent much of their time together like this, a better fit could not be found for either of us. From the beginning of our relationship to the end of our time together, your touch will be a constant source of both comfort and strength to me. You have never shied away from telling me that through each one of the thousands of kisses we’ve shared I have always made you feel like I did on our first date; that even now you get weak in the knees each time our lips meet.

I wait with bated breath for all these things; for my senses to be filled with you.