Here We Go Again

In more ways than one, we're awash in waves of whatnot. I use the word "we" rather loosely. It is a matter of integrity that I admit I can only speak for myself, even if I think others experience something similar. I don't know your pain or your exuberance.

However, I can speak for my immediate surroundings when I say it has been raining cats and coyotes, and the wind has hinted at becoming rather forceful. Again. Storm of all history continues. It came in a number of waves, the last of which should amble through this evening and be gone by tomorrow morning sometime.

My neighbor witnessed a palm tree blown onto a 4runner on I-8, The Eight, in California speak. Floods here and there and surf which makes the hardcore wave riders want to risk the the currents. I think at some point they had to let their desire for the big surf go unsated.

Clouds have sometimes blown through at eye level across the back canyon. It is odd that they drop down over there but rarely seem to engulf the ballistic cabin itself. Probably a technical explanation which eludes me. Coyotes have been silent so I imagine they are pondering this question as well.

Other storms of a more abstract nature threaten to blow through my mind. That can't be allowed. OK. So I messed up about ten thousand times. Get over it. Over doing regret or confoundment won't be constructive. Being a human is not as easy as it looks. If I knew what I really am I'd form a special lobby group and get myself included in hate crime, health care, and various other types of legislation designed to ease my burden, whatever that might be. Or else I'd go back where I came from. Obviously I'm not an English major or I would have said "from whence I came" or similarly inconvenient phrase.

The blanket of low dark clouds, weeping and moaning, triggered thoughts of turning points in my life. Most of these involved things heard and things ingested. Then there are times when it involved things said. Rarely did it involve things seen, at least not often without other interaction. I mean serious turning points which caused turns in path. Ears and mouth. You'd think the pivotal moments would have involved more interesting parts. Not so much as far as the deeper level of things.

Not to say that there haven't been some very strong motivations otherwise sensed, but the guiding compass was most influenced by words and other things which enter through the head somewhere. I don't like the way it feels to recall or ponder such things. It feels deadly.

So, I run. That's what I do best. Figuratively, or with the aid of motorized vehicles, not so much the old fashioned way, actually running using my feet and all that. I don't really know why. It just seems that I manage to disappoint people and I don't always know why they feel that way. In my mind I don't put others through that same hardcore set of secret rules. Possibly I do, and don't see it. I don't understand people much of the time. Never have.

There's a difference between being critical and just not getting it, where people are concerned. I'm in the don't get it camp. That has screwed up big chunks of life. Yikes, I do something really stupid, but it was because I thought that was what they wanted or liked, or how it is done. No, I guess it wasn't what they like. It didn't make sense to me either. I was just going by the clues and cues as I saw them. Either we live in a world of mixed signals, or else the rules are elaborately disguised.

In retrospect I had the priorities confused. Now those same possible priorities aren't there. Being my own priority is no good and not motivating. I could care less about my own best interest. I'm just as confused as I was way back then.