I carry IT with me everywhere, yet rarely use it. In all honesty, it really is just another method in which to ignore people. A tool for connection.
It can be intrusive. The constant ON. The repetitive checking, and re-checking. For what? Who knows. Some sort of divine intervention, perhaps.
I am sad to say I have, since moving back home, found myself engulfed. It doesn’t suit me, though. You know?
It limits me, somehow.
Yet, it connects me in ways I would otherwise shy away. I suppose my attraction may be the aspect of choosing your adventure. Have the choice of when to peek in, speak out, all that jazz.
You know me, Mom, ever the introvert.
I am not good at making friends, and at making multiple friends. And perhaps not the best at keeping them. Checking up, checking in. Not good in group settings. Suppose that really does depend on the group.
I try, I make feeble gestures towards making more friends. I am so poor at it, as you well know.
Yet I am slowly, in person, sans SMARTphone, making connections.
Co-workers are a good group. We work well, we get in a groove. We jive. We usually leave our egos at the door, which is very inspiring. But also I see this group becoming more forgiving, too, of our flaws, and shortcomings and make do with what we have. It’s a work in progress.
Yet, intimately, I have few that I share the rest of my waking life. I have found I do enjoy my own company, often. Bike rides along London’s pathways. Walks with the shnoggin’ doggin’.
And, she does indeed help me connect. With an indifference towards the skin on my hands or the bones of my arms, I am whipped back, tripped, and spun about in pursuit of a sniff. She can be annoying to walk. As I wander off, lost in thought, she yanks me back into reality. Often. Forces me to pay attention.
Together we explore the wilder, more chaotic, random places that we both love. In the woods, the meadow, along streams of cool drinking water. To where the best tasting grasses grow.
And we connect, her and I. The dog/human connection has grown strong over the last few years we’ve shared.
And yesterday I was thinking back to the call centre. It’s been almost a year now since I left. And I remember how, for those 24 months, I barely had an intimate conversation with anyone… for days and days. I would go into work, sit down at my desk, and proceed to spend the next 10 hours talking to strangers; with rarely an interaction with co-workers, but for mendacity related to the job.
Soul sucking.
It almost drained me, you know, Mom? Completely malnourished, starved for affection, I purred at whoever bothered to come near. Or hissed. Alone. Not good.
But I finally untangled myself. Finally.
Just took a broken wrist, and long hot summer days spent outside in my in-between garden.
Re-c0nnected. Finally.
I suppose : )
Within that solitude of repose, I found something. It was well hidden, under layers of soot, but there, none the less. Still. And I try to capture it.
I haven’t been myself for so long, I almost forgot who she was. What moved her. What made her groove.
I’m rather wise on what made her cry. I’m a pro-athlete. Athenian.
In this need to rebel, within this desire to throw off the last trappings of IT, perhaps what I am truly seeking is a community?
And speaking of connection. I may have found our brown-eyed girl. She connected with me through Facebook, and I am impatiently awaiting her reply. I’m not completely sure, but I really think it’s her.
Lexi said I may have scared her off, admitting in that public way I remember what she was wearing that first day she showed up in Grade six. She might be right, perhaps I freaked her out. So, more checking and re-checking IT. Perhaps for a better cause.
I will keep you posted.
So goes the battle. Between connection and solitude. Between being, and over thinking every little thing.
I am adjusting my crown.
Love,
by PaulaB 