Feet

I glanced around the room noticing that there had been a paper explosion. I shivered. I am a neat freak, especially when it comes to my desk.

He sat on his side of the desk in his fancy office chair. I sat on the visitor's side. The paper invaded desk lay between us. We were conducting a conference call. I pulled my chair closer to the desk and placed my notebook on it in order to ease the task of taking notes.

About halfway through the call I looked up from my intense note taking, to see my Director lift his right foot to the top if his desk. The left foot followed and he crossed his ankles. He executed these movements with casual precision. He continued speaking to the client, never missing a beat. I just sat there staring at the soles of his Rockports.

I could feel my brow furrow. Does he realize that he just shoved his feet in my face? Does he realize, that even though he is the director, that it is rude to place your feet on a desk while someone is sitting on the opposite side? No, he doesn't. He is that oblivious.

We finished the call and he removed he returned his feet to the floor, where they should have been throughout the duration of the call. We conducted our post call debrief without further blunders of the foot. But I still exited his office shaking my head in disbelief.

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Reinforcements


I have been sifting through my thoughts and feelings. Picking them up in handfuls and straining them with my fingers, trying to separate the imperfections from the rational and valid. A few handfuls fall through my fingers with ease while most others weigh my hands down. I struggle to lift them to eye level for closer inspection. I want to throw them out to sea but I know that I would never be able to throw them far enough. The waves will continue to carry them back to me.

Why do I let the anxiousness, the crazy, the hopelessness overpower all of the good? Why am I constantly anticipating disappointment? Why am I paranoid that everyone is working against me? Why do I believe that people are hiding things from me? Why do I constantly wonder if this will be the last phone call, the last text, the last date? Why do worry that he will find someone else? Why do I keep fretting that I will end up hurt again? Why do I keep thinking I am not good enough? Why do I believe that I have been set up for failure in every aspect? Why? Why? Why?

Something is wrong with me. I should be happy and hopeful. But yet I still keep anticipating this big blow up. I have trained myself to expect the worst. So when the cars start to line up on the track I become suspicious. Instead of enjoying the straight lines, my brain starts manufacturing scenarios of heartache and woe. I have tried to modify my thought process on my own. But I am failing. Failing miserably.

And even though I generally dislike people, other than myself, analyzing my thoughts and actions, I think it may be time to call on reinforcements. Professional reinforcements. Ones that can give me the tools I need to change so I can enjoy all of the good instead of anticipating the bad.

j.

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The Comfort of Generalities

"Most people need the comfort of generalities," he continued. "They want to say only the correct things. They prefer conventions. They hide their specificity."

I know I hide. I hide everyday. I appear stable and unwavering. Underneath that calm cool exterior is a deep dark pool of emotion covered in white capped waves. I keep it buried not allowing the waves to crash over the edges and onto the surface of my being. I try to keep things simple on the surface. I hide the specifics. I do it to avoid complications, to avoid unnecessary questions.

"But some conventions are important don't you think? They're reassuring," I argued.

"You're right. Some conventions are necessary. They are deeply felt."

"But you think most aren't."

"No. Most are filling."

"You mean filler."

"Yes, filler. We avoid being precise or specific because we are lazy, or scared, or indifferent. Every day we say to someone 'How are you?' but we really don't want the details."

I am not lazy or indifferent. I am scared. Scared, that if I unbottle the specifics that the people around me will truly begin to believe that I am crazy. Or even worse, they will start to fire questions in my direction. This would then require that I either perfect the art of dodging or attempt to explain myself. Neither are particularly appealing to me.


**********


Of course, he was right. After all, intimacy would be diluted if expressed too readily. Even with Paolo, I often felt myself coasting on the surface, relying on physical instead of emotional closeness.

Guilty as charged. I have done this in the past. I, like so many others, have relied on physical contact to replace emotional closeness. My most recent offense in this department is G. For over a year I hid. I hid my emotion behind a wall. I detached from the situation. But then one day the dam burst and I was carried away in the flood. The waters have calmed considerably and I like to think that we have both the physical and emotional closeness now.

Was it self-preservation, dishonesty, lack of courage? I tried to imagine a life in which every conversation was a revolt against triteness. All that unfettered frustration, euphoria, nostalgia, sullenness, and anger suddenly loose in the room.

Imagine the fatigue! It was a wonder, I thought, that anyone ever speaks from the heart. Most occasions call for a defiant shallowness. More impersonal, maybe, but more sensible too.

Yes, it is self preservation and lack of courage in my case. I stick to the generalities because it is easier. Because if I get specific I open myself up to hurt. Because it is draining. I do try to be specific when it is necessary. Especially when I am looking deep into his eyes, or when trusted friends ask if I am alright, or when I have to ask difficult questions, or when I have to support those in need. I am personal when it is sensible to do so, but a vast majority of the time I wrap myself in the comfort of generalities.

j.

Italicized portions from The Letter Opener by Kyo Maclear

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Brilliant

thenextfish has given me an award for being brilliant. I am beyond flattered. Especially considering that this award comes from not only a brilliant writer but an amazing person.

I am now supposed to pass the award on. I choose to nominate everyone on my 'Others' blogroll. Everyone on the list constantly amazes me with the words they choose to express themselves.

If any of you on the list wishes to pass on the award, here are the rules

1. Put the logo on your blog.
2. Add a link to the person who awarded it to you.
3. Nominate at least 7 other blogs.
4. Add links to these blogs on your blog.
5. Leave a message for your nominee on their blog.

j.

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