So, instead of sitting on my porch this week, I am sitting on a patio in the middle of Michigan surrounded by family. Half of whom I’ve managed to upset within five minutes of being in their presence. I know I my humor is an acquired taste; they say absence makes the heart grow founder I find that to be quite the opposite when it comes to family. In one sentence I managed to alienate myself from them and it took an act of bribery and contrition to get them to talk to me again. All because of something I have said on numerous occasions in front of them. But, it seems they don’t like me saying those facts in front of the general public.
Alas, all is well and we are getting along. I can’t really remember the last time we were all in one spot, yet it seems we fell right back into our old rolls. Old jokes, stories and memories are shared easily and readily. I am not much for words in these situations with the exception of the occasional snarky remark which seems to garner disdained looks from some and laughter from others. As far as I’m concerned I just don’t really care one way or the other. It seems my attitude from my youth has progressed into my adulthood.
I believe part of the reason for this attitude is due to the fact that for the most part I am an unsocial creature. Sure, I have friends I talk to and co-workers who are close to me and those people understand my morbid humor and jocular insults. It comes from the fact that what I have to say usually involves long drawn out explanations or diatribes. And if you’ve been in any conversation with me you know that last statement is true. Hell, since you are my dear reader you know what I say is true, and for me, there is no amount of mental therapy that can change this character trait in me. Trust me, I know.
So, I am surrounded by family members in an ad-hoc reunion to celebrate my Mothers retirement two days before Mother’s Day. The best gift I believe I could give my mother this year is to show her how much she has meant to me over the years. Given, our relationship has been rocky at best, which seems to be a theme with me and all of my family. I don’t know why this is nor do I really care. I never have and I don’t think I ever will. This fact, along with others seems to have slipped from some of my families memories; my affront on their sensitivities actually brings me amusement. But not for the offensive nature I relish in, but more for the observation of the hypocrisy that is the human condition.
For you see, I know for a fact that we as a human race have a tendency to talk in sarcastic tones and offensive jokes with people we are close to. Yet when we are the recipient of those verbal attacks we become angered and offended when after all, we have done it ourselves. This flaw of mankind is a constant amusement to me. I know that in a perfect world, if as John Locke said, we truly are born as a tabula rasa, all of our learned traits would be of love, caring, joy and peace. But we are not in a perfect world, we are imperfect creatures subject to jealousy, rage, anger and the misinterpretation of actions and words by the ones we are around. This is especially true of family.
I try to not release into the world most of the thoughts that flutter from the myst of haze that surrounds each of us. The haze that holds all our ideas before we even have them, the same haze I tap into with my muse to write stories and blogs. This ether is a living and tangible thing to me, something that I can actually see and touch in a metaphysical sense. Some people, artist, writers and musicians are very familiar with this part of the world and some live there so long they get lost in that mist and have a hard time finding their way back. If you don’t believe me, hang out with some of the fore mentioned creative personalities and you will soon discover a plethora of new words and descriptions that will blow your neophyte brain.
I think this is where the issue of communicational breakdown has its true foundations. This ether foundation is an insubstantial structure which is subject to one’s own imagination. Which is where the communication breakdown happens, shit, I wasn’t going to explore this topic and yet here I am going on and on about the internal workings of the creative minds of people I know and people I don’t. So, I broke my own code. What does that make me?
Simple, it makes me a blogger who is seeking truth and acceptance from the people in my life all the while pretending I don’t really care.
Ok, enough insight. Time to go piss of some more relatives.
Have a great week.