The other day I sat on a double-decker party bus and wanted to go home. I wanted my husband on a couch with a movie, a double-ply goose down blanket and probably a pizza. I wanted a hammock in the sun and wind and time. I wanted to stop wanting. Instead, I arranged my face into some semblance of fun, admonished my inner quiet and pretended I wasn’t me.
I want harmony.
I must repel synchronicity in some way. Initially beckon it with a crooked finger, draw it close, inhale its clean breath, then blow it away.
I assure you it’s for reasons unknown.
Maybe the lines connecting my stars are opposing forces, not parallel, not straight, not even lines. Maybe they’re ziggy zags, lightning bolts, or black holes.
Or maybe I’m just me, learning lessons, plumping up the process into melodrama; making something out of nothing.
Story of my life.
The zig zags.
I never would have thought that I’d choose home as often as I do but I’m rarely disappointed.
It’s tough, trying to be “fun” in a contrived situation.
We attended a cocktail reception hosted by people we loved, but for an official function. Much as I was grateful for their hospitality, I wished that all those other people would go away and we could talk to our friends.
damn dude. your writing…amazing.
No one has real synchronicity in their lives and if they say they do they are drunk, lying or both.
To always be wanting is something you can change. It’s about looking at what is right in front of you, looking at what is out there and realizing how good we all have it.
Wanting is the hallmark of passion, surely? I like home and I don’t like parties. I never have. I just thought I should like them. Now I try to listen to myself more.
It’s funny how things become more clear with age. The older I get, the more content I am with my own tiny corner.
In my own little chair.
The problem with parties is that they just take so much effort! Talking to people you don’t know. Yelling over loud music. Dressing in uncomfortable clothes. Smiling and laughing when you don’t feel like it, or when people just aren’t funny. It’s exhausting.
This doesn’t mean you aren’t a fun person. It just means you’ve matured enough to know that time is valuable, and you don’t want to waste it doing something exhausting.