paisleypiper's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- not sunsets and greeting cards Kindness Yesterday a friend responded to an e-mail I sent with an invitation to get together for a drink after work. Because there was something in my e-mail that gave me away. And it may have been that I was reaching out, because it is the only way to open up to kindness. I think that made my week because it is great to feel that people out there, besides Quinn, care about me. Not just that people care, but that I can let others be supportive and encouraging. One of the traits I admire in others is openness with their thoughts and feelings. By this I do not mean a bunch of slop all over the place of sticky, unconsidered stuff. I mean people who are comfortable enough to have a give and take of ideas, to share a bit of themselves from time to time, and to find something (anything) to appreciate in a situation. Sometimes I am like this. I used to be more like this before I got myself into a world where I lost touch with my creativity, incrementally, and ended up feeling castaway. I used to make up songs, on the spot, that rewrite some sappy seventies song and apply it to the present situation, about three times a week on average. Because I have a weird gift for rhyming and parody. Weird Al me, I know. I used to be the first to say �at least� in any situation. I know that people face this all the time. They grow up; their priorities shift. But laauuuddd I don�t want to start sorting my socks by color and eating lima beans for dinner. I don�t want to have nothing to do but watch television and nothing that makes me grin but memories bleaching out quickly in this stupid, bright summer sun. It is not a mid-life thing, because I have some time to go before then. It is more this thought that I don�t have to resign myself to some other set of stereotypes. I don�t cook by recipes, so why should I live my life by one? When I cook, I like to take a basic premise� a few foundation ingredients and keep doing things that I have learned, from lots of trail and error, until it comes out, at minimum, edible. And if not, there is always a can of soup. With enough alcohol and a few good cracks, people will forgive many culinary misadventures that end up in a bowl of canned soup. Because there is a potential for friendliness out there. For a bit of kindness in exchange for a bit of kindness. Now I�m going to stop before I sound like a darn Hallmark card and start scanning in pictures of sunsets. 8:13 p.m. - 2002-07-31 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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