Ah, my dear neglected blog. How I have missed thee. Work is finally returning to a normal pace, and all that other stuff that comes up in life has seemed to calm down a bit. I believe I am beginning to feel like my old neurotic self again, instead of like a wrung out dish rag.
Now, I must explain that today's entry is purely a writing exercise for myself because I'm fairly certain that after a month or so of silence most of you guys have stopped checking for updates. And that is ok, less pressure for me. I'm not one of those people that thrive on pressure. I mostly shut down and try on disguises and fantasize about starting over in Puerto Villarta as a bar owner on a beach that sleeps under a palm tree. I guess I would be an albino one compared to the natives due to my complete lack of pigmentation, but eventually they would get used to me and my bathing in sun block.
On the other hand I know people who are pretty much just useless masses of flesh until pressure is applied, then they swiftly meld into functional human beings who are capable of multitasking and herculean feats of organization...mostly I'm talking about Russ. He can be amazing when the impossible is demanded of him. However, if you gently remind him to pick up his socks, you suddenly feel you are talking to a lost puddle of primordial ooze. Now that I am not living in the same house as my dear little brother I find this amusing and consider it part of his charm. But when we were teenagers and I had to wait for him to be ready to be composed enough to go to school this usually created what we liked to call hostility in my family...I think in warfare they call it a massacre. Some day when I write my book I am planning a character based on my brother. Technically he is a mental patient, but a lovable one who is mostly harmless.
Is this attack on him too cruel? Probably, I've kind of lost my perspective on such things. He gets all squicked out when I am nice to him because he thinks I am planning his death, so in a weird way this is me letting him know I care.
4 comments:
Maybe, just maybe, his squickyness goes back to when you convinced him that he was dead. I would be a little suspicious if I were him.
Love ya!!!
Sooo Mean! I am crying on the floor!
Welcome back amy! Good to hear from you again.
yay, you stayed awake long enough to write! Russ, he's funny.
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