I usually don’t have reservations about making decisions. I will make a choice, even if it is a poor one, and accept the consequences. Refusing to put on my big girl panties and say I was wrong, only prolongs the inevitable, not to mention, few people believe plaintive cries that abstain me from any culpability anyway.

I’m feeling indecisive about this one though. Is it better to be one who recognizes the unintentional acts that contribute to hurt feelings and righteous indignation, or is it better to be the recipient of such acts and the bearer of hurt feelings?

In the end I don’t think it matters, because both positions lack the ability alter whatever incident has left left people sniffling. And empathy, though really useful, lacks any tangible ability to turn back the hands of time and make things right. Apologies can be a step in the right direction, but seem trifle at times because everyone knows it is easier to get forgiveness than permission

*****

So, basically I spent ten hours in the car, and four days gasping for air with a chain smoker because people communicate in code, because my mother always couches the way she feels when speaking with my brother, my brother always remembers my sister frozen in adolescence with her drama queen ways, my sister in law is still suffering from chemo brain even though she is finished with her treatment and my sister was on her period. Nice. At least I wasn’t on center stage.

The problem with reading between the lines regarding what others need, is guessing wrong. At that point, you risk wasting your time, and theirs. Even worse, is downplaying it in your mind to the extent that someone doesn’t receive care they need. Can you live with yourself? Can you indefinitely saddle society or siblings with your responsibilities?

There are occasions when you have no choice but to waste time in order to get to the truth. I hate wasting time.

*****

By day two, it was obvious I was wasting my time. As the saying goes, my mother was milking it. She could have managed without me, but she wasn’t going to allow me to leave. This is humorous, because the woman is not a born manipulator. She will tell you what to do, and she will imply what you should do, but she will not trick you into doing it. She will however pout about it. It must suck to have kids who are as hard-headed as you are

*****

It’s good for family to be okay, even if they can’t see the things I see. It’s good for them to slow down, and not spend time worrying. It’s good for them to be relieved temporarily of their responsibilities. But mostly, it’s good to be back home.

Sunlight has been a scarce commodity of late. Rain, however, not so much. I’m not using a kayak to reach my mailbox, so I’ve no reason to complain. But I am surprised. Sure, it was raining when we left for New York seven days ago, but I didn’t expect it to rain all five days we were gone. Whoa.

As it turns out birdseed doesn’t actually grow birds, it grows wild grass. And the grass, keeps on keeping on.

Enough about the weather.

I mentioned New York. My first trip. I’ll spare you the itinerary. If you watch television, or read, you already know. I was hoping to see Avenue Q, but it went on hiatus a few days prior to our arrival. We saw this instead.

I knew nothing about it, other than the cast members. With a name like God of Carnage it sounded exactly like the sort of thing my grandmother would forbid me to see, so naturally I insisted on seeing it AND getting a t-shirt. That and musicals aren’t really my thing. Why sing along in pre-meditated artificial joy when you can watch skilled thespians behave badly and point fingers.

What can else can I say about New York that you don’t already know? Little. I can show the way I saw it.

Thank You Notes I Neglected to Send…

Dear Sister’s Husband,
Thanks for showing me those awesome pistol grip clamps. Not only are they easy to use, but the reduced the amount of profanity used during our last DIY project. If it hadn’t been for that stroke of genius, the Better Half and I would still trying to hold spindles in place using arms, wrists, ankles, and toes; sort of like a Bob Villa version of Twister.
With much appreciation,
Jaded

***********

Dear Wikipedia,
Your seemingly infinite data base leaves me in awe. Without you I would have never realized that my current music taste is leaning toward post punk revival. Who knew a thirty-something housewife would be drawn into music following diligently in the steps of the Sex Pistols or the Clash. Thanks to your insight, I will be able to sleep easier at night, though maybe not with any of those songs playing on repeat in my head.
Yours truly,
Jaded

*********

Dear Dad,
Thank you for teaching me the joy is in the deed and not in receiving credit.
Love,
Jaded

**********

Dear Nate from My favorite pizza place,
Dude, you are a wealth of righteous info. Without your help, I would have never grasped the potential of fish tanks and fully appreciated the beauty of a self contained ecosystem, much less heard about this guy. Inspirational. Thanks for sharing.
Sincerely,
Jaded

**********

Dear Lapcat,
Thanks for showing me how to appreciate sunspots and belly rubs. We all need to stop and eat the houseplants every so often.
Your less than humble litter scooper,
Jaded

********

Dear Friends,
Your fortitude is inspiring. Thank you for enduring.
to each I am a different beast,
Jaded

We spoke of changes and self-confidence, the first year first week law student and I. Being a big fish in a tiny pond fosters a false confidence in your abilities. So the first year of law school, it seems it is full of small fish from little ponds tossed into a large lake without a depth finder. A class composed of the tops of other classes from smaller watering holes. And so the process begins anew. Finding one’s place amidst brilliance. It is humbling.

I am in awe when my life parallels someone else’s. Especially in matters regarding confidence. It’s surreal, and shocking when you realize your insecurities align with those of someone you always envisioned as intelligent, confident, and better adjusted than yourself. Beneath the facades, maybe we all possess self-conscious insecurities which level the playing field, or perhaps those who don’t a too arrogant to correct their failures, not recognizing inadequacy.

As the new age of competitiveness begins, performance expectations require reevaluation. You can’t always measure yourself against your peers. There will be times when you can only try to be better than you were before and forget about being the best. We can’t all find the cure for cancer, but we can strive to be the best self we are capable of being.

Funny how it’s easier to say than to believe.

In some circles, specifically two I intersect, talking about the weather is a cover for the more serious issues which no one will be discuss because reality is either too unpleasant, too plebeian or just too fucking real.

It may be an euphemistically laden crutch or it might simply serve as an exercise in vocal resonance; nonetheless it fills the uncomfortable silence, which serves for many as a depressing disappointment of things to come, lifeless and deflated as a pricked balloon from a passed birthday. Of course there are also times when weather is nothing more than a strategic change of subject, because I’m not going to engage in a morality discussion, a political discussion, a racial discussion, or a religious debate.

Though weather is code for non-confrontational conversation in my head, it is of genuine interest to numerous males in the aforementioned circles. I mean that neither as sexist nor judgmental, just a casual observation. In rural areas, weather is a life force dictating all manner of activities for hunters, gatherers and providers.

My father-in-law was such a man. Lifelong gardner, survivor, and shoeless until the age of five or perhaps six. He supported his family operating heavy equipment, but at heart he was a man of the soil, a farmer at heart, an avid gardener and sufferer of dilemmas extension office related. He was all about fresh cabbage, citrus grown out of zone, and strawberries, tart tasting, home harvested. I was about other things, but I knew if I inquired about his interest, the conversation would continue, and he would be whole, personable, and animated in a way that makes people real, even if we find the topic of conversation non-stimulating. Seeing people, at their happiest, talking about things important to them, is a gift, for even the stodgiest of voyeurs.

Weather and I have an unbalanced, aloof relationship. I am aloof to weather’s ramifications, and weather is unbalanced and precarious like a scorned woman. I don’t do scorned women. Unless it serves a higher purpose, like empty conversation for the sake of continuity eliminating undesirable cacophonic hissing sounds. I check the stats on the weather monitor so I can engage in polite chit chat with my mother or brother-in-laws. Anything to make them comfortable and fill the requirement of polite repartee. It isn’t that I don’t want to engage in repartee, but my mind is moving beyond the moment into the next potentially stimulating opportunity….

So.

I have eluded tornados and catastrophic floodingI could say i respect the weather, but we all know the truth…I’m lucky regarding weather, whereas I’m unlucky in other ways.

Saturday, my BIL called to ask if I enjoyed the earthquake. Uh, earthquake? You mean the cheap ride at the mini golf hut? No? You mean for reals. Huh? So again, I escape unscathed with little of importance to discuss in less than polite circles.