So you may or may not desire more information, but after my whole self-indulgent "10 things" post, I thought I'd spend at least a couple entries filling in the picture. After that, you'll have to find another way to satisfy your raging curiosity (or frustration - I don't have much in the way of lines to fill anyway, and color in pastels regardless). After this, my subjects will turn to more meaningful things, and should your curiosity drive you to it, know that I don't mind being stalked as long as you take Sundays and holidays off. "Holidays" refers to anything except the 4th of July, Christmas, or Mother/Father's Day - I don't celebrate these, so stop by. Anything related to SPCA campaigns, Halloween, or National Talk like a Pirate Day are sacred, however, and are not days with which to fuck.
At any rate, I'd thought I'd share two things that demonstrate a little more depth than the cynical, perpetual student you might be imagining. Here is one . . .
Several years ago I was speaking with a friend, William. William had about 25 years on me, was generous in spirit, and a surrogate grandfather of sorts, filling a role I have never had in my life and one that I came to treasure. He was one of the best men I ever had the honor of calling my friend. In this particular conversation, the subject came around to self-perception, about the true self vs. the actor's persona (we both dig Jung). I told him how difficult I felt it was to get a handle on who I really am because I am politely called "multi-faceted" and "emotional". "No matter how its said, I know these are not compliments. How do I figure out anything meaningful about me when my heart is so quick to be swept away or wounded?"
(I do speak like this, and will not apologize.)
William laughed at me and replied, " B, you are a man of gentle ways, which is as good a thing as a man can be . . ." He spoke for some time. It remains one of the most insightful and uplifting things anyone has ever said about me.
Because its true. I laugh easily, and at the strangest, simplest things, like falling water in the sunlight or the way random scenes from favorite films come to mind while in the shower, which then must be acted out. My eyes fill with tears quickly; tears for the beauty in life, tears for the pain that I work to ease, for friends, music, art, poetry. I cry over those damned SPCA commercials, tears of pity and rage, and over the lilac that blooms outside every spring. I act on my tears. I cannot weep, for good or evil, and not move out of my compassion. I feed neighbor's strays and the rabbits living under my deck, especially in this frigid winter, and can't seem to hold on to much, as other people deserve it more.
That conversation was beautiful, and I wept softly as he spoke. I have thought about it, and whatever else I may be, I am certainly a man gentle in spirit and way. It is not a matter of pride or of disclosure in the sense of saying "I don't give a shit what you think about it." It just is.
I lost William to cancer on Easter Sunday in 2011. I loved him. I have wept for him, in grief that my grandfather is gone, in joy that he is at peace. Mostly now I just smile in a gentle way at the ache his memory leaves. I have no regrets; I was lucky to have known him.
Hopefully my choices of color are pleasing . . . chat with you soon.
