Saturday, Oct. 09, 2004
I am in love.
No, not Tall Guy, ha! In this case, I discovered a writer right here on Diaryland, someone whose diary alone is nothing short of a work of art. Think I'm kidding? Go read for yourself. The writer is jonquill. As I commented in this man's diary, if he doesn't write for a living, it's a crime. I would kill for his command of the language, and for his ability to render extraordinary the things that are by rote mundane.
Allow me to clarify. I am not in love with the man, whom I've never met, but with the flow of words that beckon like a lighthouse on a stormy sea of my own inadequacy.
Translation: the kid can write.
What shocked me perhaps even more was that I was the first person to comment on his verbal meanderings. That, too, is a crime.
The best thing about the Internet is its ability to create connections. I have found some extraordinary friends through this medium. We share literary verbosity, obviously; but we also share the unspoken need to receive validation, to be appreciated in a way that isn't addressed in the so-called "real world." Each one of us has the treasure of our own anonymity, and the joy of a semi-fame with our group of readers, however large or small they be. In the best of all scenarios, we become involved, develop true friendships, and our written links expand to phone calls and meetings and richer relationships. But even when that doesn't occur, we build our own neighborhood that harkens back to the days when neighbors truly waved at one another on the street, a small-town atmosphere when we knew everyone and shared gossip over the back fence.
The Internet has become our modern-day back fence, and my neighbors may reside in another country and/or on another continent. And I personally love my back fence, with its electronic base and colorful paint jobs. The quirky homes draw me, with designs that may not be technically perfect, but contain all of the warmth of a crackling fire and a cup of hot cocoa in the dead of winter.
I really would encourage everyone to go read what this young man has to say. I am assuming from his musical tastes that he's fairly young (at least younger than me!) And leave him a note. He's a worthwhile neighbor, one with an eccentric and beautiful yard and plenty to talk about.
Argh... Tall Guy just showed up on my doorstep this morning, about an hour ago. Asked me for help with a computer issue (simple to do) and asked if I would be interested in a side job, building a web page for another businessman here in town. Obviously I agreed to both. The computer thing was about a ten-minute job, and the web page involves dealing with someone else (thank goodness.)
I figured that this man was out of my life, since he's expressed no personal interest and despite having my home phone number, has never called me here. And I am very uneasy with the fact that he seems perfectly comfortable with breezing back through on a whim. He was so nonchalent about things, so politely cool while sitting on the end of my bed. I'd like to wring his neck about now.
Out of sight, out of mind, and all that rot - except it doesn't work when he's not out of sight. I'm not going to try and convince myself that I read him wrong, because I know better. And God help me if he's decided now to pursue me precisely because I closed that door. Or maybe God help him if he thinks that. Because at this point, and given my history, that would piss me off royally. I've had it up to here with men who are all about playing games. I refuse to go there again, no matter what, because they always flake out when it counts.
I was most assuredly not expecting him to show up this morning, bragging about how he drove directly to my house without getting lost, telling me how his church provided him with all new furniture, hitting more than a few nerves for me. I am glad for him that he got the new furniture, but by gosh, he knew where I was sitting, that I've been trying for months now just to buy a sofa. I smiled and nodded through gritted teeth, wanting to scream, "Why are you doing this to me? It's enough that you're in my bedroom, sitting on my bed, talking to me like I'm an intimate friend. You have to rub in other things too??"
I was going to walk to Wally World to get the kid's blanket. Instead, he ended up giving me a ride. I hate being thrown back into a tsunami of ambivalence, so I am bound and determined not to go there. It's back to the proverbial grindstone, focus on work and my kids and anything, anything to not so much as let my mind wander back into dangerous territory.
I'm swearing under my breath, trying not to cry at this point. I do NOT want to go there. I do NOT need the complications of someone else who doesn't actually want me, they just want an association with what I do for a living, or in this case... Heck, I don't even know what Tall Guy wants. I have no clue. I just know he doesn't want me, and I'm tired of being a prop on some jerk's stage. Let him find another ego stroke, I'm not taking the job.
Before - After
In the grander scheme of things, no soul can truly be replaced. Each one of us has a place in the universal tapestry. We each contribute our own color and texture. When one thread is snipped too soon, it distorts all the threads around it. Other lives can unravel and tear. If the wrong thread is ripped away, the whole fabric of life becomes dangerously fragile.
- LeiLani, aka Radiogurl aka Bright Opal (1957 - )