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when someone listens, that’s golden.

so we had thai food.  we’re talking, you know, and i had a moment when everything really seemed to fall into place, giving me something strangely missing only i didn’t even know it was missing until it happened.  but it happened. it isn’t missing anymore.  weird, hey?

we have thai for lunch and we’re talking and what we’re talking about goes from the banal to the very personal to what’s funny and shouldn’t be humorous at all.  but we’re talking.  was saying to golden earlier in the day how very nice it is when you’re talking with someone who plainly gets what you’re talking about.  we’re not talking about agreement - we need to agree all the time and that’s definitely cause for bad news.  what i find amazing about people is our propensity for conversation and how we move it in our own ways.  what i find depressing about people is our propensity for conversation and how it’s all so self-centered.

rightnowthisverysecond, i’m asking myself whether or not i really just need to go home and not be surrounded by organic fumes and lack of interest in what’s going on around me.  rightnowthisverysecond, i’m thinking about whether or not when i go home, all i’ll do is watch a bad movie or fall asleep wishing very much to have a good dream.

we have thai for lunch and we’re talking, and that’s all it takes.  who knew?

(i’m going to say, two nights ago, i had a dream in which a lot of what happened sunday did, in fact, happen.  i know it’s nothing but conincidence, but it’s the nice kind, you know?)

(oh, and seriously, WHAT AFRICAN GUY!?)

i ask myself a lot what’s everything mean.  the why of things.  not because i HAVE to know.  rather, because i’d LIKE to know.  i would like to know that when a smile’s sent my way, i had to do something with it.  when a laugh is shared, yeah, i want to partly own it.  a shared joke.  a secret that’s between two people is usually enough.  no, not usually: IT IS enough.  but i’d like to know.  call me shallow.  call me self-centered (ha!).

strangely coincidental, if not ironic, just the other day i wrote how i think the only person in my life who gets me is my best friend.  it’s entirely lovely to discover this isn’t the case.  think i’d gone the last few years with this feeling about people in general (and i know this is a gross generalization; sorry, but, as my best friend said to me not too long ago (ha!), my feelings are more than valid), and it wears on me, you know.  i’m not talking about very deep things, to be sure.  just plain old understanding.  nevermind advice and opinions and conjecture; understanding is another type of animal.  over the years, periodically, i’ve considered if therapy would help, honestly.  me in therapy has the taste of the bottom of a trash can.

often, i feel alone.  lonely, if you like.  and i know a lot of us do.  i’m not an insane person.  i close myself off because, as it has been my experience over the years, you can say everything you want, everything you think you need to let out, everything that seems to be weighing you down, but the person across the table from you only listens to the bits they want.  not grand mystery here, just an observation. and with the handful of exceptions i’ve mentioned before, what’s the use of dealing with people who hear me but don’t listen?  everything relating to or connecting people is always a two-way street.

but i don’t want these few words to end this way, no.

i had an experience.  someone opened my eyes, probably without their knowledge.  and it felt good and great and comforting and, if you excuse the over-exaggeration, luminous.  because as alone in this little adventure of mine as i may feel, all it takes is a chance, you know, and instead of waiting for people to let you down, you just have to wait for them to build you up.

we had thai for lunch and we’re talking, and that’s all it took.

‘You think I’m showing you my soul? That’s ugly business…Not a chance you’ll see my soul.’ Clive Owen, ESQUIRE March 2009.

I need more than a new brain and heart.