The Freeze
"So let's hear some stories. We want some dirt."
I breezed though the Rolodex in my mind, searching for some pleasant reminiscence or anecdotal evidence of affection, uncovering nothing but critical emotional failures, manufactured incidents of turmoil, the bitterest accusations, childish finger-pointing, locked-door meetings while I waited upstairs. In other words, utter senselessness.
The slightest feelings of disappointment stirred inside of me, my mouth began to fill with saliva, a tiny rush of adrenaline rushed out from my stomach through my extremities -- common defensive instincts, a genetic remnant from primal times.
What, I ask myself, is the best possible endgame for this abnormal state of affairs? Dysfunction is not a ritual, but rather a condition. Therefore, there is no sense in employing a conscious effort to break its cycle. Humans are not capable of making good on lost opportunities, which causes time and experience to crumple into one another, all the different yet similar moments relating to each other in strange ways, making us think we should predicted what will come. We do our best in spite of it, having no other option but to assume the very stances that created the problem in the first place.
We must maintain appearances, and always focus on the politic. Although, outsiders' opinions have never caused me one minute of lost sleep. However, they do matter, to varying degrees, to loved ones whose opinions I am bound to consider. So, I must do my part and contribute to the effort...
...I suppose.
On several occasions I've assumed the peacemaker role, but to no avail. The youthful arbiter, hindered by strong words combined with naive convictions, the cornerstones of early adulthood.
But now I have grown older, and proved myself worthy and capable of leadership, with a keener sense of how effortlessly time slips away. I have grown tired of the many cracks in the decrepit mask of appearances, and I know that I may one day be forced to introduce some very undemocratic sense into the equation. For, in my mind, based upon my own experiences, the only way to deal with a self-perpetuating difficulty is to alter radically the terms of engagement.
My sense of this is strong, but it is a time that lies off on the horizon.
So, considering all of this, I looked away from my new acquaintance and replied, "I'll echo my Italian forefathers and say: 'I don't know nothing.'"
"Ha ha ha. Holding back, huh? I don't blame you."
Neither do I.
I breezed though the Rolodex in my mind, searching for some pleasant reminiscence or anecdotal evidence of affection, uncovering nothing but critical emotional failures, manufactured incidents of turmoil, the bitterest accusations, childish finger-pointing, locked-door meetings while I waited upstairs. In other words, utter senselessness.
The slightest feelings of disappointment stirred inside of me, my mouth began to fill with saliva, a tiny rush of adrenaline rushed out from my stomach through my extremities -- common defensive instincts, a genetic remnant from primal times.
What, I ask myself, is the best possible endgame for this abnormal state of affairs? Dysfunction is not a ritual, but rather a condition. Therefore, there is no sense in employing a conscious effort to break its cycle. Humans are not capable of making good on lost opportunities, which causes time and experience to crumple into one another, all the different yet similar moments relating to each other in strange ways, making us think we should predicted what will come. We do our best in spite of it, having no other option but to assume the very stances that created the problem in the first place.
We must maintain appearances, and always focus on the politic. Although, outsiders' opinions have never caused me one minute of lost sleep. However, they do matter, to varying degrees, to loved ones whose opinions I am bound to consider. So, I must do my part and contribute to the effort...
...I suppose.
On several occasions I've assumed the peacemaker role, but to no avail. The youthful arbiter, hindered by strong words combined with naive convictions, the cornerstones of early adulthood.
But now I have grown older, and proved myself worthy and capable of leadership, with a keener sense of how effortlessly time slips away. I have grown tired of the many cracks in the decrepit mask of appearances, and I know that I may one day be forced to introduce some very undemocratic sense into the equation. For, in my mind, based upon my own experiences, the only way to deal with a self-perpetuating difficulty is to alter radically the terms of engagement.
My sense of this is strong, but it is a time that lies off on the horizon.
So, considering all of this, I looked away from my new acquaintance and replied, "I'll echo my Italian forefathers and say: 'I don't know nothing.'"
"Ha ha ha. Holding back, huh? I don't blame you."
Neither do I.
posted by Pat at 7:31 PM
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