yobech505

“We can be friends.” The dreaded vocabulary stuffed into and imagined in a less meaningful “I don’t want to hang out with you anymore.” Could be. Or couldn’t be. We’re friends. I revel in that. The only discord in the whole gathered part is, I don’t want the interaction to extend into the realm of what you might desire. It just isn’t presently present for this specific person.

It won’t traverse that medium. It just isn’t there, waiting for what’s next. It gets arrested where it is. Why can’t that be an acceptable norm? I adore you. You have a place in my heart that ain’t about to exit the dramatic production. The caption on the next act just says, it won’t go farther.

We’re co-billed on the credits as participants in the various scenes, but off stage, it is just as well dormant as it is, not becoming an off screen Bogart and Bacall. If it is labeled as friendship, that’s what it plays out to be. And what is wrong with it?

I like your company. The conversations, actual and historical, hold a level of interest and the communication is fun. The playtime is limited. Emotion is the chaperone, not primed to go to the next level, and lacking the matches needed to strike a fiery potion to what you may want. So, why can’t it be content with where it levels its personal self. I enjoy the time spent. Laughing is fun. Gabbing is fun. Learning about your people, and sharing far out stories of mine is a nice way to spend time.

It just seems like it never follows that road, perceived as having too many potholes and cattle guards to sustain a smooth continuance. It always looks for more from one end of the magnetic pole and if it isn’t that pathway, the magnet is turned around, pushing away. It has to not be at all? Dumb.

We just can’t smoothly cope with what we are, or want to be, once those verbages are spoken. One has to give it all to naught, the other, explain that it just isn’t in the fifty two card deck to go beyond what the joker might call a limit. Hands played, and someone goes away sad, the other missing what was there.

Why does ‘just friends’ scare the crap out of one side of the supposed link? It’s that or nada? Ewwww. Seems like such a loss to how two people might interact and react to a life to live. It shorts the electrical system, making one side an undeserved villain and the other a whole bunch lonelier. Not a very pleasant turn of where things go. Is it okay to say ‘just friends’ and mean it? Is it accepted in the hallways of a relationship to be closely acquainted but not want to walk down the proverbial aisle or take up space in the opposite’s closet?

‘You’re my friend.’ If you really like someone, what in the hell is wrong with it? It could be relegated to a dream world, I suppose. The thought of not getting together for java, occasionally sharing overspiced burritos or just hanging out over a glass of wine comes with a level of melancholy that I don’t want to experience. I won’t carry it past ‘Go’ and collect my two hundred because there just isn’t connection in my chest for moving that token.

Sure, it doesn’t always work this way. But I like friends. Aug/2023

Examining the human frailties, I slither back into the why of what happens to the brain when too much emotion is slammed into it with a general lack of definable definition. We are not real good at it, often just blabbering as we try to make sense of what the most of it is. We end up even further lost in the fray, unable to look at any source of even the tiniest rationality, so much so that every time our nose is running, the kleenex is out of reach.

I am, if at all, the least prepared for this kind of gobbledegook. I take it in, try to process it and manage to make it even worse. And the caption underneath my cartoon is a simple, “What? You’re doing this AGAIN?” What in the love of Lucifer are you thinking? Dumbass is an appropriate term. Of course, it is unobtainable rationality that screws the whole thing up. Can’t do it. Never could. Won’t tomorrow either.

Fall, fall, fall!. That, I am very competent at. If it were an olympic event, I would win the gold. Or at least a bronze. Somewhere near the top of the platform, anyway. I obviously train for it, as is clearly shown by the numerous times I put myself in that obnoxiously acheful position. Not once has it, in its long term, let me get out of it. I have to deal with the whole routine, the kit and kaboodle, to use a childish scientific terminology. I get pulled in and never know what the bejabbers to do next, yet I’ve been through this rinse cycle so many times.

So where do I go next? Perhaps I will find a loophole to keep me from standing on the edge of this whole shebang and fall into it where I can never again be led. But, given my record, so far, that seems rather doubtful. I learn from my history but totally ignore the memories that keep trying to give me warning, telling me over and over, “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

So, now we’ve evidenced that I am a basket case of emotional laundry, left to soak but never washed on the ‘clean pots and pans’ button, and my own devices are not well prepared in my feeble humanity to move on smoothly. This road has not been paved since the Model T was invented and the weather and road conditions are not helping. I am bounced around, left to my own lack of inventiveness and captured by what I thought, or hoped, was a more complete emotional connection. Somehow, I forgot to attach the ground wire and got shocked. It’s all hot, now, and touching any of the wires will certainly send volts of energy surging through my inner part of the heart.

I wouldn’t be so damned pushed if the human parts healed faster. But they take so damn long, and they leave such a stack of obstacles, each one depending on me overcoming the one before it. Yes, eventually we reach the end of the challenge course, but it is often so miserable getting to that elusive finish line.

I am certainly capable of being overrun by the human side of my existence. There is more, down deep, but most of that is way beyond my ability to grasp a working knowledge of it. Not that I don’t try, but it is plaguing to look into that when it comes from someone who lacks the experience and bravery to explore it in greater depth.

So, for now, I will attempt to nod off and take on the whole shebang, torpedoes be damned. I don’t suppose I get any hidden suggestions to help me along, but that is part of my folly. Yes, I’ve done it again.

Always liked to travel. I still do. Loved wearing out tires on the nation’s highways, touching our northern partners who inhabit the second largest sized country on Terra as well. Put the wear on some Michelins there for sure. Now, question me? Inquiries please? Why the hell do I do that kind of stuff.

There’s things out there. Lots of them. Beaucoup! Gotta check it out. Cool stuff. Chasms, canyons, rivers, lakes, mountains, shapes, designs, paraphernalia made by people, and some natural thingies constructed by nature that humble the homo sapien contributions.

There’s also a sense that draws me to some of these places, over and repetitively again. It isn’t definable in a human sense and I don’t get it as I probably should if there’s a spiritual connection. I don’t know enough to even profess knowledge there.

Now, to the part about sharing it. I recently had a bout of the travels with my partner. The voyage was to a natural wonder with stops along the way at natural wonders. To the end destination, I had explored before, numerous times and I wanted to show it off. It didn’t disappoint either of us. As we exited, my comment was about my return.

Why? You’ve already seen it.

Wrong response. But left to the wind as to my need for counter comment. My co-traveller would not understand. It’s in the DNA of wanderlust. Yes, I went this time because I wanted to share. But I don’t go to see these marvels of natural science, I go to experience. And wow, does the planet we are gravitationally bound to, provide.

I can’t paint, draw or photograph the reasoning behind what that is. I read, once, that it’s the magnetic pull. If so, then why doesn’t the rest of the overpopulated society feel it as well? Am I and the similars the positive side of the magnet? Or vice versa? I’m pulled into it because I’m sensitized to it. That must be how it is explained.. No, that doesn’t make a lot of sense. Or does it?

In all of this, I have to pensively consider, what did folks do before the advent of the automobile? Going back on a horse, pack mules following, along a trampled deer path must have had appeal because a few adventurers obviously did just that. A lot less than those swarming into traffic on the paved blue interstate highways of the map.

A sociological approach might be that it is burnished into us at a young age by those who trekked these trails before us, knowing their fledgling offspring would absorb it as much. We are conditioned to experience, not just see. No, don’t put much in that theory either, as some siblings do and others don’t.

Back to the co-driver. What do they miss? Hard to find a defining characteristic. Guess? Not much. If the experience of an experience is not what is sought, then it probably doesn’t require much inquiry. ‘Yeah, I saw it’ might be enough for some of the populace. They may only need that small level of satisfactory observation. I won’t find fault in that. I just know that, in a world full of see, I will always want that experience thing.