“You’re right,” I said to my husband while walking through a local grocery store.
“About what?” he said.
“When you said that people have become more polite,” I said. “More friendly.”
We continued to walk down the aisle, and my attention was, immediately, caught by two girls standing behind my husband while he looked at grape jelly.
The girls started to pass him in the aisle, after a few seconds.
“Of course,” I said. “There’s still room for improvement.”
“What do you mean?” he said. “Those girls said excuse me, when they passed – right?”
“Yes,” I said. “But, before they walked by you, they were dry humping each other right in front of the entire store.”
Summer is over, and it hasn’t been a bad one. Even though I’ve been in severe pain for most of it, spending some of it in a wheelchair while being taken into the local medical facility. At least, they were nice. Even though the nurse forgot to put the plastic cap on the thermometer before putting it in my mouth. I waited 3 days for some kind of physical symptoms to show up, after being exposed to everyone else’s saliva before I got there. I decided to imagine that she only forgot the plastic covering – for me. I felt safer in my imagination. But, who knows what disease I might have now.
Frankly, I don’t care. I’m getting to an age where I don’t care about much of anything. This can be good, and bad.
One of the best doctors I’ve ever had, died last week. He had given me some golden advice when I was younger. I had been given a bit of a death sentence about 25 years ago. It wasn’t good.
Not at all.
He suggested something, and I paid heed. I changed my life, and I’m still alive.
Seeing that he had died, made me remember all of this – and put me into a bad mood. It made me realize how he was the only doctor I had ever had, that actually convinced me that he cared about me. The doctors I’ve had, since then, have appeared to be more interested in getting paid – than helping people.
Anyway, the whole thing put me into a funk. I cried for most of the day. I cried that he died, and I cried when remembering what his advice was – and how stupid I used to be.
Then, I cried that I had gotten smarter.
I wrote a lot of music this summer, because I couldn’t walk. This was a pay-off of dislocating my leg. I finished my symphony, and even wrote more than I had ever written within such a short period of time. Now that I’m healed, for the most part, I imagine my composing will be set aside for something else less rewarding.
Even though I was a physical wreck this summer, it was a rather pleasant few months. We took a lot of rides through beautiful areas. I saw beautiful things. Golden birds. Sparkling brooks. Today we saw a bunch of cows taking a bath in a pond. I’ve never seen anything like that before, and was glad to have witnessed it. I mean, really. How often do we get to see cows swimming in a pond?
They were grinning, too.
I made friends with the meanest man in the neighborhood. We talk on the phone about science, metaphysics and religion. I’m the only one he likes in this neighborhood, and I have no idea why. He walked down the street, one day, and sat on my front porch. We had the most wonderful conversation.
The next day, he and his neighbor were screaming at each other, so loudly, that the police showed up.
I have a quirky life.
I want to retire, but am too cowardly to do it. I’m not really old enough to retire, but I am becoming increasingly perplexed at why I keep doing the same kind of work – over and over again.
I’m starting to realize too much. I was much happier when I was ignorant.
I met a lady in the store, last week, that was so nice and friendly that I wanted to ask her, “Do you want to be friends?” Nice people are so rare. I was kind of sad that I didn’t give her my number, although she probably wouldn’t have called me anyway.
I have, this summer, discovered things about some of my old friends – that I don’t like.
Things that have spilled out of their mouth, that they shouldn’t have told me.
I have been cutting ties with these people – permanently. Some would say I’m judgmental.
Perhaps I am.
And, to be honest, I don’t care.
I called Netflix the other day. There was an offensive advertisement on their site, that aggravated me so much, I couldn’t stand it one more day.
“Take this off my screen – right now,” I said.
“I want it gone, and I want it gone now.”
The Netflix person was helpful, and understood. She told me how to remove it.
I’m getting really sick of perverted advertisements.
I don’t know why I’m the only complaining about them.
All in all, I’m venting today. It’s time for a change, and I’m going to make sure that change happens. I’ve decided to speak up, more often.
Being nice, and tolerant, isn’t working for me.
I wish other people would speak up, too.
But, it seems that the people who are speaking up the most – are the ones who I am trying to ignore – the most.