This blog is welcome to anyone and everyone, regardless of race, class, gender, sexual orientation, or political affiliation. Unless you don't like writing short stories or smelling bear. Or if you voted for the other guy. Also, I don't really like it when you leave up the toilet seat, so could you stop doing that? Muchas, muchas gracias.

Thursday, September 11, 2008

Have You Ever Been In

a situation where something bad happened to you and you wound up having to console the people around you because you realize that the bad thing that happened to you is affecting them, in that they wind up simultaneously worrying about you and feeling guilty that the bad thing didn't happen to them, but to you? And maybe you start to realize that the bad thing doesn't really affect others at all unless they're in your presence, because your situation just reminds them of the dark cloud that you are under and that there's not a thing they can do to dispel it? So you start to avoid people in hopes that they will get a little break from this guilt that you make them feel? Have you ever been in a situation where the bad thing that happened to you might in some ways be another person's doing, and you wind up having to console the very person who may have harmed you because you feel so bad for making them feel guilty for having to hurt you?

One time I was riding my bike down this narrow, curvy road in the Santa Cruz mountains. It was a beautiful warm day, and I could smell the cool spots under the trees. I was really whizzing along on the sun-dappled asphalt when around the corner swung a wide Chevy truck with a partially smashed-in grill, like a smile that was missing some teeth. Too late, I realized that the truck was on the wrong side of the road, and I locked up my brakes and the driver locked his, and both of us skidded off to the side. Except that I went flying over the handlebars, landing right on my palms, leaving much of the skin on the road.

The driver, a big man, maybe 50 years old, was wearing one of those stiff, foamy baseball caps. He got out of his truck and asked me if I was okay. He was shaking, this full-grown man. I assured him that I was fine, and I gave him my broadest, most dazzling smile. Should I call a doctor, he asked, and I said that no, I was right as rain, it was nothing, and I got back up onto my bike to demonstrate that I was okay. Look, I said, it was my fault, I was going too fast and I didn't see you. No harm done. I wobbled a little as I rode off, but then I pulled it together and waved back at him, standing there next to his truck in his silly hat, and it wasn't until a half hour later, when I arrived at work, that I realized my palms were full of rocks and sticks, and there was no way I could shelve books, not if I didn't want to get blood all over them.

* * *

Yesterday I met Matty and we went to the beach, where we sat and talked about our dreams, our goals, and what we think of men with hairy backs.


Blogger purplesimon said...

I think we've all had moments like those you describe. I may even be guilty of being one of those people that causes problems and then needs comforting. I hope not always.

However - and I don't know why - I want to know more about your meeting up with Matty. You both look happy. And hairy backs - I only ask as I'm getting older and the hair on my head is looking to relocate. My wife says she doesn't mind, but I do. Is she being truthful or trying not to hurt my feeling?

purplesimon out...

9:32 AM

Blogger sage said...

Great discriptions, but let's see, a 50 year old man driving a Chevy truck... I'm sure glad my front grill isn't banged up and that I don't wear foamy baseball caps. Hang in there.

11:35 AM

Blogger Ren said...

So the lady at the deli was talking to her friend as she made my sandwich the other day. She talked and talked and talked... And she talked so much that she forgot to put pepperjack cheese on my sandwich. I noticed she forgot, so I asked her if she had put in the pepperjack cheese when she handed me the sandwich. "Nope," she said with a smirk. Then she looked over at the order and realized what she had done. "Give it back," she said as I was walking away. I shook my head and told her to just keep talking to her friend, that maybe she'd get his order right. And I walked away.

It wasn't until hours later that I felt guilty for making her feel bad. At least, I think she felt bad. I wanted to go back and apologize. What if her friend had been a long-lost friend, and they were just catching up after, say, 20 years?

Sometimes I give people the benefit of the doubt. That makes their mistakes be reasonable, and it makes me feel like an ass.

1:22 PM

Blogger ginab said...

glad you met up with Matty. whew!

I got a little bit lost except hands down I can attest to the last question.

Personally I hope unrealistically that no one hurts anyone intentionally. How daft am I, given I know they do sort of? Mainly, I don't think about inter-dependency and then I have no idea what that term means! I know Bea Bea has to move her bowels, but I'm still at work. I know the links in the chain can break. I know that. Rely, rely = dog, dog.

I'm seeing the woody A movie after all! I hope I have something to say following it that's interesting.

Definitely I'm a bad blogger but sobeit. I'm sooooooooooooo busy, my wig keeps falling off.

glad you spent time with Matty. Your faces sing.


PS: brassieres are in the post.

2:21 PM


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