as my Muse says, yay for friday. inspiring words.
i've just returned from the company christmas party. since i'm sort of a merc, our work get togethers are a bit different.
anyway, i was sitting with my normal crew...single twentysomethings having a few beers and trying to look like we're having a good time because that's what management is supposed to do...
shit, back on topic. there i am trying not to fall asleep (mainly because i was up waaay past my bedtime taking in the surreal images of my Muse [again] and watching the snow). so, this late forty something guy and his wife (same) end up sitting next to me. Mr Heath's wife is really nice and begins talking to me alot. she's your normal middle-aged mother of three grown children...face sweet and careworn, laughlines around the eyes but with that underlying steel will present only in really, really good mothers. i take an instant liking to her because i have so much respect for good mothers and the gentle kindness they bring to this fucked up world. after talking to her, i realize that she's trying hard, very hard to be happy and all holiday cheer...but its just and act. there's a tightness in her shoulders and a pervasive sadness in her eyes that i can't find a reason for.
after having done with the ghey smalltalk and pleasantries, she mentions her youngest son, 19, who is injured. i inquire as to how and she says he has a stress fracture to the thigh bone because he's in Marine boot camp. thats when i place her sad eyes. she's worried sick. she's worried her baby boy, this 19 year old man who tried so hard in boot camp that his muscles cracked his bones, will come to some harm...and for good reason. he's a volunteer Marine, but worse, he volunteered for the Infantry...which he didn't tell his parents before he left for Boot.
i can relate. i've been there. i was once a jarhead, a groundpounder....ten foot tall and bulletproof. eighteen years old and ready to take on the evil of the world...young, idealistic and fucking stoked about it. i realized tonight that my own beloved mother had that same look in her eyes for the six years i was in danger of being sent off to do some wuss politician's dirty work. she had that look all along, and i never knew what it was.
anyway, i did my best to placate her fears, but my heart wasn't in it. i tried to tell her not to worry, but i really didn't believe it myself.
i'm not as articulate tonight because i'm half drunk and i feel like breaking things. i don't feel like creating. what's the point? some fucking politician will probably send my old ass to get offed by some raghead anyway.
i think, sometimes, i would welcome it.
fuck it.
-pb
i've just returned from the company christmas party. since i'm sort of a merc, our work get togethers are a bit different.
anyway, i was sitting with my normal crew...single twentysomethings having a few beers and trying to look like we're having a good time because that's what management is supposed to do...
shit, back on topic. there i am trying not to fall asleep (mainly because i was up waaay past my bedtime taking in the surreal images of my Muse [again] and watching the snow). so, this late forty something guy and his wife (same) end up sitting next to me. Mr Heath's wife is really nice and begins talking to me alot. she's your normal middle-aged mother of three grown children...face sweet and careworn, laughlines around the eyes but with that underlying steel will present only in really, really good mothers. i take an instant liking to her because i have so much respect for good mothers and the gentle kindness they bring to this fucked up world. after talking to her, i realize that she's trying hard, very hard to be happy and all holiday cheer...but its just and act. there's a tightness in her shoulders and a pervasive sadness in her eyes that i can't find a reason for.
after having done with the ghey smalltalk and pleasantries, she mentions her youngest son, 19, who is injured. i inquire as to how and she says he has a stress fracture to the thigh bone because he's in Marine boot camp. thats when i place her sad eyes. she's worried sick. she's worried her baby boy, this 19 year old man who tried so hard in boot camp that his muscles cracked his bones, will come to some harm...and for good reason. he's a volunteer Marine, but worse, he volunteered for the Infantry...which he didn't tell his parents before he left for Boot.
i can relate. i've been there. i was once a jarhead, a groundpounder....ten foot tall and bulletproof. eighteen years old and ready to take on the evil of the world...young, idealistic and fucking stoked about it. i realized tonight that my own beloved mother had that same look in her eyes for the six years i was in danger of being sent off to do some wuss politician's dirty work. she had that look all along, and i never knew what it was.
anyway, i did my best to placate her fears, but my heart wasn't in it. i tried to tell her not to worry, but i really didn't believe it myself.
i'm not as articulate tonight because i'm half drunk and i feel like breaking things. i don't feel like creating. what's the point? some fucking politician will probably send my old ass to get offed by some raghead anyway.
i think, sometimes, i would welcome it.
fuck it.
-pb
Sorry about your co-workers wife, and that her sadness turned your thoughts down such a path.
bittersweet is what it was. like most things in life. i feel the pain, but love the reason why we (they) feel it. if there was no such thing as love, as caring...there'd be no reason for pain...
...and we both know how we feel about pain.
if there's anything i enjoy about getting older, its the evolving ability to realize things are never black and white. the grey areas in between are where we live our lives. things aren't as polarized as when i was so young and idealistic...and i think it lends a much more human aspect to the world.
fuck, i've too much drink in my veins to be pontificating.
calmlikeabomb
-pb