I don’t write here much. I don’t know why. I/we started this blog to write when the mood struck me/us. Yes, I know, are we one or more minds cavorting in the ethers?
The mood has not struck much lately. My mind has been on vacation. Unfortunately, it did not find rest and relaxation, in the true sense of vacation. My mind’s vacation has been more of an imprisonment, with occasional bouts of Tourette’s-like verbal tics, not anything one would want to share. Certainly, not this one. So, today, I went for a walk to have a serious talk with myself.
The walk was nice. The talk, not so nice. I was outright belligerent with me. I was beside myself, so I took the easy way out. I stopped listening. I kept talking, though, and eventually made peace with the silence I was exhibiting toward myself. Huh? Yep, this could be part of the reason I haven’t written here much. That internal dialogue between me and myself is tiresome, and not ordinarily entertaining.
Maybe I need more friends, you know, those people who call and ask if you want to go get coffee. I only have one friend living nearby (in my house, actually, and we’re married), who asks me if I want to go get coffee. I’m grateful. That’s one more nearby friend than some people have, right? We’re good friends, too, the kind that really listen most of the time. Sometimes I have to work really hard at listening, because I’m talking to myself and it’s hard to carry on two conversations at the same time.
My other coffee-getting friends live far away now. Some, very far away. Airfares and out-of-body experiences are the only ways for us to go get coffee together. Sad. One’s expensive, and the other is…expensive.
While I was out there with my mind on vacation, I discovered a new obsession: trying to see small print without glasses. It hasn’t been that long since seeing small print became a problem, so I still think I can wing it. I’ve got news for you. Once your eyes hit that magic age-related disintegration that blurs 12 point Times New Roman, it’s time to see an eye doctor. People tell me you can get really good reading glasses for under 25 bucks at Costco, but do I go check it out? NO. That would mean I’m admitting that I can’t read the newspaper without holding it out at arms’ length. God, I feel like my grandfather. He wore glasses, but I can only remember seeing them on the table next to his chair. I think I have a picture of him wearing his glasses. Somewhere. Doubtful I can find it, if it requires reading the label on a box in my closet.
Coffee and an eye appointment, there’s a thought. Maybe I can get my friend who lives in my house and is married to me, to go with me. Sounds like a really good time, huh. We do have good conversations, all three of us. Maybe we would have one of those conversations that brings my mind back from vacation, and I can get back to work. Maybe the talk I gave myself today will sink in, and I can get back to work. Maybe if I see small print better by wearing glasses, I can get back to work. Maybe then, I can stop repeating myself.
Maybe then, I can write here more often. It’s an exercise in brain connectivity. I’ve been on vacation long enough. Maybe.