Even though I write and publish in a forum that is available to most of the public, I am actually a fairly private and shy person. I do not often approach strangers because I tend to vapor lock, and if its someone I have a bit of a thing for, its even worse, I mean I literally just kinda become an all over twitching, gelatinous mess. But from behind the comfort of my computer or my pen and paper, I am brave and confidant and a bit of a smart ass, because I dont have to worry about all my little quirks coming out. I dont normally bother people I like, especially the famous that i follow on twit. But yesterday I was a bit morose and I was sitting on my porch just contemplating the day and trying to find a place to cool off when I saw that an actor who is amongst my very favorite actors of all time, was tweeting about a concert he had attended. I dont know what compelled me, in fact after I sent it, I thought to myself,"You goofy heifer, he probably has 10million others harassing him!" and I felt bad, but I thought that my commentary about my dorky son finding the band lame and that perhaps my son should be returned as defective, was funny...at the time. I went on about my business, Stevie was putting bunny ears on me and squawking about spiders being on the porch, my friend was calling me about the kids going to church, and Chance was griping about my requirement that he clean his hair out of the sink in the front bathroom,(seriously, someone sheared a weasel in there), and I almost missed it, but I have tweetdeck and I happened to hear the tone and I glanced down and there it was...he responded to me! Dork that I am, I spazzed, jumped, and dropped my laptop. Thats right, I dropped my freaking laptop, almost fell out of my chair, and Chance claims that I squealed. He came running out to see what the hell the problem was, thinking that a spider had gotten on me and fearing that if I had killed my computer, that he was going to lose his to me, only to find that I was incapable of coherent speech. I stammered for a good minute while we assessed my laptop and I just pointed to my screen. Chance looked at it and asked the typical oblivious, teen boy question,"Who the hell is that and whats the big deal?" followed by, "Mom, you are such a DORK!" accompanied by a look of both pity and dismay, as if he is afraid my dorky/nerdiness will rub off on him. He stomped back into the apartment and said,'I would have been impressed if it was that lil chick that play Alice, now shes do able." Never mind the fact I was completely disturbed that my 14 year old son say the term 'do able" I did yell back at him that at age 14, nothing is do able for him, it completely stunned and shocked me that I had gotten a response. I am so used to just being able to sit here and mutter under my breath or just throw stuff out into the open without anyone ever commenting back, that it totally set me back on my heels that I arbitrarily got a response, much less from someone that well, to be quite honest, I find to be more than a little interesting for a guy thats my age. Soo, I am not quite sure how I feel about that, I know I wont go off randomly tweeting famous people anymore, that just gobsmacked me and I dont think my computer could handle another drop.
Writing has always been my way of venting, of getting off my chest my feelings about what I find to be injustice, or even my commentary on just what is going on around me, a simple testament of my life and what has gone on. I have always been a bit arrogant, and I have never denied that fact. My temperament has always been that of an artist and as you are well aware Rog, us artistic types do not often play well with others, so rather than mix out in the world, I write and share that way, and sometimes I take pictures or draw, though my drawing is not what it used to be. My photographs used to share my view of the world, but without access to a darkroom and an enlarger, I enlarge my world in the written word, changing what displeases me by simply erasing or marking through, or even hitting backspace when I write on my computer, its much simpler and less dramatic than the great artistic bonfire of '91 that my mother has never forgiven me for,where I burned most of my artwork and photography in the backyard, but in a way its just as cowardly. Writing is the one thing that I tend to let myself loose on, and while I may not speak out loud as much anymore, it does help me find my voice, but when someone hears me, it tends to scare the hell out of me, even if they do consider it as a sneeze in a crowd, it was my sneeze that got the,'Bless you" and for a moment someone knew I was there, and that is what my writing does for me, it reminds me that I was here.
I have been invited to join some groups since I have been up here, and while I find it very flattering to be invited to join and participate, I find that my upbringing and my perhaps repressive, public side has me reticent to make the decision to do it. There are parts of my life that I keep private from the majority of those who know me, almost Jekyll/Hyde kind of life so to speak, and sometimes when those start to overlap, its a bit distressing. My reading habits,as well of most of my social networking habits are kept private from my family and my real life friends and when I go to work, I wont share that side of me with my work mates, but sometimes the language of my other life slips into my real life and that makes for some embarrassing moments. Considering that my verbal filter does not work its best at the worst times, I have done my best to keep my mouth shut when I am drug to church or social occasions around church folks, especially since using the term,' Hard limit" in a conversation, realizing what I had just said, freezing, then stammering out ,'Oh Shit" and then just standing there wishing that I could evaporate the rest of the time. I am not very extroverted. I embarrass easily, and I tend to like to be more of a loner, that just doesn't get into the whole fan insanity that surrounds so many scenes, and I mulled over the invites with that thought in mind. While it would be nice to know more people who share my passions for good music, I am just a little to uptight to call myself a "hoor", and thus is the crux of the matter. I was never the groupie type even when I was young and able to run around after random rock stars, and even though the thought of it would be kinda fun in a truly decadent way now, I am just past that part of my life and I would chain my daughters in the basement if they even remotely acted that way. Luckily my eldest daughter is not interested in men or dating until she finishes college, and my youngest, while in love, still equates her love with that of a teddy bear or sock monkey, so I am golden for a few more years, and then I will see about that basement. My eldest son is the one I have to worry about hooring about, though I am not quite sure after what?
I have use of a car, once it gets fixed that is. Sus has generously said that I can borrow her car for extended road trips to Seattle or the coast so I can get out and explore! I have to make sure that the medication I am on isn't going to keep my blood pressure too low to drive, and I have to keep gas in it and watch my lead foot, but other than that, I can finally break out and go! I am planning on hitting Seattle pretty soon, I have been just dying to get out and wander around and even though I would be alone, it will still be an opportunity to stretch out. After all those years of not being able to go and see and be free, this is like having the blinders off and the threat of the whip taken away. Its amazing to have the power to hang up on him and not worry about whats coming through that door.
I have even been considering trying an open mic night with some of my writing, perhaps letting the voice that has only been seen for many years finally be heard once again. I dont do the ,"Cowboy Poetry" anymore, I left it behind with much of the heartache, but I have new stuff that is built out of a decade of shouting into the darkness, so perhaps a brick at a time I need to throw it out at the world.
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