Showing posts with label pain. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pain. Show all posts

Monday, May 11, 2015

Hit. Miss.


Our schedules are in sync lately. We keep running into each other during the morning commute. I was hoping that her reason for leaving earlier these days meant she wanted time before checking into the office, to sit and have a sip in the park across the street from our respective work places. But I haven't seen her there. 

Yet. 

I know she sees me, our eyes meet, hers sparkle. I hope mine do the same. Yet, she gives nothing more away. I'm reluctant to do much more than smile, nod. It is the bus and even the friendliest of conversations are awkward on the bus. Especially our bus. Too many school children free-ranging their way to school. At least, hopefully, school is the eventual destination. 

Two weeks. I get off two stops ahead so I could get in extra steps, go get coffee and then to the park to sit, sip, and think. I know she can see me from her office, I don't know that she cares, I think she does, I hope she does. I don't know why I'm not more forward. Yes, I do.  

Hurt. Fear. Wrong. 

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And thus ends the snippets of a re-curring dream, the snippets culled together to form a narrative. Is it just a story? Or more? 

Welcome to Monday. 

Random questions: How many times do you have to unsubscribe before it "takes"? How many times do you give it before complaining?   How long do you give websites you are not so familiar with to load before saying, "F" it and move the frack on, several seconds, one minute, more . . .? 

#MicroBlogMonday 






Thursday, July 10, 2008

10:40 p.m.

I was on the floor. I don’t know why, really, I continue to get on the floor to lounge. Being on the floor is comfortable enough, depending on certain conditions and circumstances. It is the getting off the floor that presents the challenges and various aches and pains. It takes nearly forever and sometimes forever and a day to roll up to a standing position.

Anyway, I was on the floor when the phone rang. It was a distinctive ring so I knew the caller to be mom. (Aside: Recently, I’d discovered that somehow my mom’s assigned ring tone had been changed to mimic Neta’s. I’d answered a –mom- call by saying, “hey, baby love.” I recovered quickly enough I don’t think she noticed, much.)

Anyway, mom called at 10:40 p.m. last night and after confirming that I was not in bed (an inference as to how long it took to answer the phone) told me that she’d spoken with M and, “he didn’t sound good.” I was about to opine that he was probably tired, when her call waiting beeped and she excused herself to answer the other call.

While she was gone, I was thinking that I should probably just go to bed, I was mostly dozing anyway, Neta and I had already talked and certainly there wasn’t anything compelling on the tube. I was shutting things down when mom returned to say she’d talk to me later. Trumped again.

This morning I called M just to confirm that his “not sounding good” was in fact, fatigue. It was. His long work day was topped off by a very hastily planned and very long photo shoot, publicity shots for a new play he’s doing. He relayed that he’d spoken with mom this morning as well. She got started at about 7:30, warning him off the planned meeting with the (former?) gf. Mom was concerned that gf could be trying to “set him up.” For what, neither of us could figure. Mom tossed around some Sodom and Gomorrah references at which point, M begged off, citing that work beckoned.

I’m quite sure that I haven’t heard the last of these warnings or other tidbits related to the (former?) gf. However, I am sure that I won’t be getting back on the floor anytime soon.


It has not been a stellar day and work is not helping, at all.