Observations: February 13 – 16

The snowfall is a thought catalyst that evokes acknowledgement of others’ mentalities, the common senses of those around you.  Do they have it or don’t they?

  • We have those that mosey in the middle of the roads, selfishly blending two lanes that others share and drive within into one for their very own.
  • Those that pull into parking spaces that are not parking spaces, figuring they can get away with it for weather purposes.
  • Those that pull into legitimate parking spaces that cannot be entered due to snow accumulation, and this results with said cars breaching, edging  into the driving lane.
  • Constant obstruction + impatience = more jams  —> irritable people —> reciprocation of actions = vicious circle

***   ***   ***

The moment where you want an empty room, so you empty it.  You want nothing distracting, so you paint the walls white.  You don’t want an easy escape, so you shut the door and lock the window(s).  You feel there is still a distraction, so the blinds are shut or pulled down over the window.  You want to let loose a little bit, and all which are accepted individually or as a combination:  running around, body checking the walls, hitting your head on the walls, sulking while standing, sulking while sitting, sulking while lying down, crawling blindly, screaming, crying, yelling, shrieking, hollering, curled up in the fetal position in the middle of the floor or the side or off-center somewhere or in one of the corners, slap or punch your face once in a while or consecutively or repeatedly in rapid-fire mode, pull or flick your ears, tweak your nose, kick the wall, punch the wall, ram your head into it, and ultimately forget what you’re felling or how you got here.

There is an upside to this, however; you realize:  there will be padding on all the walls next time.

***   ***   ***

The Single Conversation

Girl:  Hey! How are you?

Guy:  Doing well.  How are you?

Girl:  Well, thanks.  Happy Valentine’s Day.

Guy:  Happy Valentine’s Day to you as well.  Doing anything fun tonight?

Gal:  Nah.  [Shakes her head, but still smiles] You?

Guy:  Nah.  Too corporate.

Gal:  Agreed.  Take care, it was nice seeing you.

Guy:  Take care.  It was nice seeing you, too.

***   ***   ***

The gaze given was nothing short of daring.  She expressed great interest in confiscating his table while it was vacated, aside his belongings saving placement.  There seemed to be intention, as well, and it was not to be second-guessed that she’d pirate his belongings as well.

 ***   ***   ***

I bought lotion.

 This lotion.  It makes my hands smell strange.

The smell could be called mallo instead of aloe.

Mallo sounds like an off-smelling adjective.

This lotion.  It makes my hands smell even more mallo in the morning.

This lotion.  The longer is stays on my hands, the worse mallo things get.

The exception is the perfectly cloaked dry skin.

I need new lotion.

***   ***   ***

Syracuse, New York:  An Old Man Winter’s Favorite since the dawn of time.

***   ***   ***

The little girl stared deep into her mother’s phone, because it’s clear that a possible two-year-old should not have her personal hand in such technology–however, some facts may come with surprise.  Her mother simply looked upon her child, waiting for some response, acknowledgement; however, as her daughter swiped and pushed her mother’s patience drew tired.  Closing her eyes, taking a deep breath, the decision was made that now was time to go.

***   ***   ***

There was no choice but to check her out.  She wore a black blazer that could remind you of a piece of attire that Michael Jackson would don; the inappropriate-for-winter light and poorly insulated coat had golden studs, pointing upon its shoulders.  The white tank-top and snug black pants eased into a going-to-yoga vibe, but the makeup coated on her face and impeccably straight hair screamed club-ready.  She dressed for a Saturday morning in the big city.

Grabbing nothing but a bagel, she seemed to glide to the nearest table.  Her fingers fumbled as they tripped over each another while venturing into opening the butter container.  Her hands danced vigorously from shaking.   The butter fell in pieces, resisting the warmth of the bagel by refusing to melt.  The shaking turned into exasperated hurry, and she wrapped the bagel up before returning the utensils to the bin.

***   ***   ***

She’s cute, she said.

She’s wearing too much makeup, he said.

I’m sure she’s nice, she stated, assuring him.

I’m sure she is, but I’m also pretty sure she’s not my type, he chirped back.

                              ***

Well, she left in a hurry, she said.

She had the ‘Life in the Big City’ breakfast, he said.

She chuckled.  I used to eat like that on the way to work or at work. Sometimes there is less time.

She never said anything about her being late, he said.

***   ***   ***

He walked through the implied aisle of the tables.  A napkin fell from his hand, and he noticed this; however, he left it there, not returning to pick it up.  He didn’t even think twice.

***   ***   ***

Feeling:  how a bad day can be turned around by simply sitting at a table, and then sitting and looking down through the opaque matting of the table to find a baseball card of Don Mattingly staring up at you.

***   ***   ***

The art of holding one’s breath at the end of a Syracuse University basketball game.

***   ***   ***

Pay no mind to that shaving nonsense.

***   ***   ***

The morning sun shining like a newborn’s eyes.

***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***

***Alright. This observation post needs to be postponed, because there is something that has to be written out, off my chest.***

Running into my ex hasn’t happened yet in almost two years.

Some call it lucky, some call it unlucky, and others call it strange.  We both live here, in Syracuse, and we’re both active people.

I’ve mentioned her in passing through the posts, but it’s a rarity.  I point out her weighing insecure nature, but that’s all I have against her; this caused me to not accept my personality, resulting in being the catalyst to why pushing friends and family away for two years seemed unconsciously appropriate at the time.    

This is neither here nor there.  The past is the past.  We all move on.

Those in the WordPress world–those who have been following me since last April–you’re all probably scratching your heads and saying “Yeeeeah. You don’t talk about her.”  There is a good reason for that:

There is no reason to.

It had gotten to the point in the relationship where we couldn’t stand to be around one another.

Am I glad the relationship ended?  Honestly, yes.  I’m in a better place and state of mind because of it.

Do I wish her well, and hope she is happy?  Yes, absolutely.

It seems to be more frequent than not to cross paths her family members; these occurrences have been happening on a quarterly basis.

Seeking a desire to find some Bukowski and to see if fate had anything in store for me, heading to the James Street used bookstores lit up brightly in my mind.  The day, Saturday (yesterday), was a complete funk and being out in public disgusted me.  Despite not being clean shaven, I didn’t look terrible.   However, by mid-day, playing in traffic seemed a bit appealing.  The residual emotional landslide from bashing the commercialized V-Day kicked the feet from beneath me while my back was turned.

Yet, poetry–save Bukowski’s poetry–would make me feel better.

Right.

It’s also to be acknowledged that I’m convinced that I’m subconsciously using this temporary situation and unemployment as a crutch, but for the worse.  It’s bullshit on my part, because it’s obvious a situation like this is temporary, but it burns automatically.  It’s a mental duel, which creates more frustration as well.  It’s terrible that my self esteem isn’t great to begin with, but it’s coming way too easily for my saying No to any and every girl that walks by, those even smiling at me for that matter.  There is a big piece of paper taped to my chest that reads:  Big Fucking Dummy.

I’m holding onto things, offering services and putting off my own endeavors to help others with little thanks.  After being approached by a publication about blogging with them:  the bag of opportunity given to me as payment is filled with nothing but moths and false promises.  I’ve been asked to do work to help a friend out, work that entails looking at businesses and their websites and their social media presence and if they could use a writer… and I just cannot do it; the project is too big to not get paid for it, and it takes away from job searching and me time.  When late afternoon hits, it’s less than desired to job search or write or actually promote myself for being competent.

What’s the saying?  Shit or get off the pot?

I went in search for a paperback, but didn’t find what I was looking for.  I tried to intentionally mess with Fate and go out in search of meeting someone who would accept me, but found a different person instead:  an uncle of my ex.  The deal with my ex’s relatives is that they are all incredibly kind people.  The conversation went very well, and we caught up.  I never ran into any accepting young woman either.

I did leave with a glimmer of hope, and it unfortunately glowed with considering that decision solidify my leaving Syracuse.

7 thoughts on “Observations: February 13 – 16

  1. Um, Chris? I hope that head-banging room was figurative, not literal. The fact that I have to wonder worries me after reading this post. SU won. It’s sunny today. You wrote another interesting blog post. Think positive.

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