We Can Whisper Things
I like to read. Usually when I'm working out at lunch time or in the hot tub. I don't really read all that much outside those two activities. Which is why it took me nearly two and half months to get through Aztec by Gary Jennings. In fact, I was a mere two pages short of finishing this 754 page historical novel about the fall of the Aztec Empire when it was time for me to finish my work-out and get back to work. That might not sound like a big deal to you, but considering I only read when I work out I was in a self imposed pickle. I needed to finish the two pages and get to the library that evening to get a new book so I would have something to read when I worked out the next day at lunch since two pages wouldn't be enough to occupy my mind during a workout.
By now I'm sure most are thinking, what the fuck aboynamedstu, this is some boring laundry list type of BLOG shit. I promise though if you stick with me, it all comes together in typical aboynamedstu, overthinking, synchronicity sort of a way. Meanwhile back at the ranch (read to our story.)
My uptight can be legion at times, and I nearly said fuck it, and went from work to the library and turned the book in without finishing it. Please consider for a brief moment how black and white my nature is that I didn't consider this.
Go the library.
Find a quiet nook.
Finish the book.
Turn it in.
Get another book.
Like I always say, I suck in real time, and stuck with the fact that I had to finish the book before I went to the library. And. To turn it in without completing it would be a monumental fuck you to the two and half months I'd spent reading said book.
I'll fast forward through the steps it took to get me to the library that evening. It's not important. What is, is this. I walked out of the library on that February evening at 6:40ish with a copy of Aztec Autumn by Gary Jennings in my hand only to be stopped in my tracks.
"Fuck me." I'm afraid I said.
You see BLOG reader, what I saw was a dozen or so Moms and Dads trying to wrangle their 2 and 3 years old out of the parking lot into the library. In fact, one Dad and his daughter nearly ran into me as I exited through the automatic doors.
That's not why I said 'fuck me' though.
I said 'fuck me' because i knew why they were all coming to the library on a February evening. They were coming to see Tula.
I like most have recurring dreams. Usually manifestations of deep seated fears or insecurities. Many dreams are archetypal. Who hasn't had the dream of showing up at some undefined class for a test and realizing in their dream that they haven't studied or didn't know about the test.
A particular aboynamedstu dream is where I wake up on a tropical vacation and realize that that day (in the dream) is my last at the resort. The last day of the vacation. And all those melancholy last day of vacation emotions flood me. Plus an overwhelming sense that I missed the entire vacation by not being present. That I spent the vacation worrying about work or home, and only now, at the last day (again in this dream,) when it is too late, I'm finally ready to 'enjoy' the vacation.
Which pretty much sums up why I ended up in my car with tears in my eyes with my copy of Aztec Autumn by Gary Jennings* in hand.
I'm not what I'd call a smart man, although some may call me smart. I do know myself well enough to know that I'd end up where I sat that February evening. In fact, I nailed it damn near 10 years to the day. And at other points in my life.
Even so, there's a monumental divide between the knowing it (or that it will happen) and living through it. I know for a fact that knowing it will happen doesn't make it easier. In some ways it makes it that much harder. But the hardest thing. Is, was and forever will be, letting go.
Until I BLOG again...Secrets from our American dreams.
*A curious habit is I go on book reading jags where I'll read all of something or someone before I move onto another author or subject.
By now I'm sure most are thinking, what the fuck aboynamedstu, this is some boring laundry list type of BLOG shit. I promise though if you stick with me, it all comes together in typical aboynamedstu, overthinking, synchronicity sort of a way. Meanwhile back at the ranch (read to our story.)
My uptight can be legion at times, and I nearly said fuck it, and went from work to the library and turned the book in without finishing it. Please consider for a brief moment how black and white my nature is that I didn't consider this.
Go the library.
Find a quiet nook.
Finish the book.
Turn it in.
Get another book.
Like I always say, I suck in real time, and stuck with the fact that I had to finish the book before I went to the library. And. To turn it in without completing it would be a monumental fuck you to the two and half months I'd spent reading said book.
I'll fast forward through the steps it took to get me to the library that evening. It's not important. What is, is this. I walked out of the library on that February evening at 6:40ish with a copy of Aztec Autumn by Gary Jennings in my hand only to be stopped in my tracks.
"Fuck me." I'm afraid I said.
You see BLOG reader, what I saw was a dozen or so Moms and Dads trying to wrangle their 2 and 3 years old out of the parking lot into the library. In fact, one Dad and his daughter nearly ran into me as I exited through the automatic doors.
That's not why I said 'fuck me' though.
I said 'fuck me' because i knew why they were all coming to the library on a February evening. They were coming to see Tula.
I like most have recurring dreams. Usually manifestations of deep seated fears or insecurities. Many dreams are archetypal. Who hasn't had the dream of showing up at some undefined class for a test and realizing in their dream that they haven't studied or didn't know about the test.
A particular aboynamedstu dream is where I wake up on a tropical vacation and realize that that day (in the dream) is my last at the resort. The last day of the vacation. And all those melancholy last day of vacation emotions flood me. Plus an overwhelming sense that I missed the entire vacation by not being present. That I spent the vacation worrying about work or home, and only now, at the last day (again in this dream,) when it is too late, I'm finally ready to 'enjoy' the vacation.
Which pretty much sums up why I ended up in my car with tears in my eyes with my copy of Aztec Autumn by Gary Jennings* in hand.
I'm not what I'd call a smart man, although some may call me smart. I do know myself well enough to know that I'd end up where I sat that February evening. In fact, I nailed it damn near 10 years to the day. And at other points in my life.
Even so, there's a monumental divide between the knowing it (or that it will happen) and living through it. I know for a fact that knowing it will happen doesn't make it easier. In some ways it makes it that much harder. But the hardest thing. Is, was and forever will be, letting go.
Until I BLOG again...Secrets from our American dreams.
*A curious habit is I go on book reading jags where I'll read all of something or someone before I move onto another author or subject.
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