First and foremost: I am not quitting. Or quieting…or quelling…which is defined as “to bring something to an end, usually by means of force”…but quell is also defined as “to allay a disturbing feeling or thought in a reassuring way”…so which is it, Encarta Dictionary? You’re confusing the hell out of me.
Ya know what? Never mind. I’m moving on…as in, “I’m over it” which is what I’d meant in my last post. I’d like to sincerely apologize for any misunderstanding I may have caused…but honestly, your comments were so sweet…your remarks so supportive, I’d be lying if I said you didn’t have me smiling sheepishly from ear to ear. Kind of like this:
…only minus the Christmas hat…and the blue eyes….and the lime complexion…and the fact that he was so mean and cru-el most of the time, especially to his sweet little dog. But yeah…otherwise, just like this.
As Spot so eloquently remarked, I was hurt by someone whom I thought was a friend. I was completely blindsided by it and it stung. Remember being a child and arguing with a sibling or a friend? You’d want all your other friends to “take your side”, right? “It’s their fault…you’re on my side, right?” we’d implore….eyes wide and hopeful.
I do believe you never quite lose that feeling…even into adulthood. I challenge anyone to admit to not having some small percentage of their self-worth hopelessly entwined in the perspective of another. I do believe it’s the nature of being human…like it or not, we’re going to be affected by how others view us. The trick, I suppose, is learning whether that person has earned the right to define us…and if they haven’t, then we need to be able to cut them loose.
To say buh-bye…and move on. Time has a wonderful way of helping to accomplish this…and hearing from you that I’d be missed if I’d exited Blogville does wonders for my ego. So, once again…color me grateful…and give yourselves a big ‘ole cyber-hug…’cause the feeling is oh-so-mutual...
Tonight, I’d planned on washing my hair. How 1950’s is that? “I can’t tonight…I have to wash my hair.” This was so that tomorrow morning, I can bound out of bed and drive straight to Laura’s (cavalry-sister-extraordinaire) to either chop something down, paint something, or install a new light fixture…now I can’t remember which. Connor, in response to my have-to-wash-my-hair-whine, inquired why I’d want to “waste all that time tonight, when you’re just gonna come home all dirty tomorrow”. I had no logical answer for this….and since the phrase “washing my hair” is deceitfully simplistic, given the fact that it needs to be washed, conditioned, rinsed, blown dry, straightened and curling-ironed, it took very little to convince me to stay right where I am.
Now that I think about it, I do believe I’d promised Laura we could install a light fixture where none presently exists. I’ve done this before…but not in a while. I don’t recall it being all that difficult. Yes, we’ll cut the power to the house. And dirty hair means I’ll conduct less static electricity, right??
I’m not worried. Besides, the fire department’s #2 on my speed dial. I’ll keep you posted.
“Baby, I can’t go through this again~
I don’t need to go down…more than I’ve already been~
Just like a wildfire, you’re running all over town~
As much as you’ve burned me baby, I should be ashes by now.” ~Rodney Crowell
(Love you guys)