Forget the forgetful memories. Some days an image strikes me in the head. Something unpleasant from the past. An experience, something I said. Uncomfortable moment when I did not act correctly. I hold it anxiously in my mind’s eye, feeling the feelings as if it was happening again. If I wake up, I shake myself. No. No, I will not subject myself to the past. Sometimes a good memory strikes me and I try to hold it. I force myself to revel in it. To feel the pleasures of the memory, to grasp it. It melts into an unrecognizable puddle. I am left with today.
I hear the words, Live in the moment. I already know that, I need something new. I hear it again, Live in the moment. It is boring. I need new knowledge to grab on to. Something so special that when it comes into my life, it will shake me, like this blog. It will answer the questions that are.
I went to a party few weeks ago, it was rare for me. The people there were not my friends. I was excited to meet new people. New friends. I bounced from one conversation to the next. None of them made any sense. It was chit-chat. I hate chit-chat. Chit chat is what happens when you have nothing to say to each other. I recognize chit-chat. Chit chat is what happens when I myself do not know what I am saying. I talk in fillers, I pretend I care about minutia, I am trying to fit into a square, I am trying to find the boring middle. To fit a square into a circle has not made so much sense to me as it does now. I watch my son trying to do it with his toy that teaches shapes. It is funny to see the expression play out. It is impossible, I know it for sure now. I watch him try and try. It does not work. I hope that he learns that it does not work, a lesson I sometimes forget.
Even amongst my friends and my family, the feeling comes. It is discomfort of not being myself. The feeling that I am trying but I don’t know how to in this moment. I talked to my friend Lisa about writing. The reason I love it is because I have control over my expression. In a crowd of people, I become a chameleon, changing colors to fit into my environment. I do not do it out of fear, I just do it. A chameleon is trying to survive. I am not trying to survive, I am just playing hide and seek.
When you are talking to people, you have to wait. Pause. Listen to them. Ask questions. Listen again. Exchange ideas. Be interested, be interesting. Connect? And enjoy this process. Sometimes, it is magical. Sometimes, it is work. I do not know what to say or what not to say. I do not know when to listen and when to talk. Sometimes I am excited and I talk too much, sometimes I talk too little and it is awkward. It flows or it drains. New people are an ultimate challenge for me. I get excited by meeting them and instantly there is a discomfort of building a relationship. Do I even want a relationship? Am I an island like Paul Simon?
Today, I want to be left alone to my thoughts. Time is precious. It is all a trade-off. Go out see people or stay home and write. If I go out I am at risk of chit-chat. Tell me about you, now tell me about you. It all seems boring to me. I can tell you about me but what will you do with that information, go home and retell it to your husband. I know it sounds sad, but this is my blog. Even if it is for the two-day-later me to see and say, oh Olia you were just sad that day, you like people.
Today, I have no life force.
And this too shall pass. When I am happy I look at sad and say, how can anyone feel like that. Look at the sunshine, love and all of it around you. When I am sad and I see happy, I say, how is that possible. Happiness is unreal. The wave. I am on the down curve of the wave at the moment. So I want to write about it. I want to remember it when I am happy and invincible. The Buddhist strives for balance. The teachings do not want you to be extremely happy or sad. This too shall pass. Even and steady. Take in life. Drink it. Inhale it. Sniff it. You are the observer and a participant. Shakespeare said that we are actors but I don’t want to act. I don’t want to over act. This is not a comedy or a drama. It just is.
8:47 on Monday and 10:04 on Thursday. A few days later I do not feel this but I know I will again. It is a dear sad friend who comes to visit me. He makes me see things through his eyes for a while.
On the bright side, Isaiah’s favorite new song: