Apr 29, 2008

The reality is it does not matter if you are a good person. That is what I have learned. You can be a horrible terrible person. Whatever that means. Whatever that stupid static judgement implies.
Do I believe in bad people? I'm not sure. I do believe there are people who have a tendency, who are in the habit of treating people poorly. Without consideration. with manipulation instead of gentle care.
They aren't friends so much as buddys. Compatriates in the job of getting through and getting by. Mostly getting by.
But if you want to slap a label on it...yeah, they are doing bang up jobs of being assholes on some level. And it doesn't matter. It really doesn't matter.
See, what matters is whether you are fun. A good time. Funny. The proof is in the pudding. You can be reackless with anothers emotions, lie cheat and manipulate, make decisions that consistently put people in awkard and uncomfortable positions, make them cry. make THEM lie. to others. to themselves. to their very hearts. but the insecurity and hope will win out and they will love you anyway...every time you wink or smile or tell a good joke or play a tune on your guitar. every time you treat them like they matter. they will come back. they will forget everything you've done. they'll be your fest friend. bff.

I have learned this. well. the hard way. I am, you know, kind of boring now. I don't have much of interest to say but I talk too much. I don't do anything beautiful or glamorous. I'm decent to look at but wouldn't win any beauty contests. I'm a decent person. I strive to be honest. I strive to help those I care about be true to those they love and eachother. but that isn't much fun. it isn't what you want to do on a sunny day with a beer in your hand and a barbeque on deck. it isn't what you want for your birthday. it's what you want in the sidelines, maybe, if you need something. you arein a bad way. it's certainly not sexy.

and I'm not invited to a lot of parties any more. you know. the fun ones. the casual we are all hanging out and it turns into a graet awesome meandering all day event. I know this. I am not invited. perhaps, begrudgingly, by extension, allowed, but not really wanted. some of this is my fault, because I didn't capture the last lingering invites, apparently left over from when I was much more fun. when I had more fun. I let them go so I could do other things and move on and become not only this boring person, but this person with gall. I've got gall alright. I have the gall to be offended by these people. hurt. upset when I am hurt by anothers hurtful actions, offended when that pretty smile tells me a lie. but not just that, I have the nerve to note it to others: that nice guy over their with the winning disposition and good time. he's a fuck. he's mean to you. he puts you in vulnerable positions and exploits it. I note it. I am hurt for it. I am hurt by proxy. It's just the way I am. sensitive. you know the first one to notice the change in the weather or the smell on wind, even when we are standing downstream from a cesspool of dynamic social change. and even more horrible. I might suggest it's prdeunt to move out of the line of fire, move upwind of the distaster site. suggest that the only way to not be continuously hurt and manipulated and compromised is to walk or give another walking papers until they can be a good friend to you. put it on the line. make them be fun AND kind if they want to stick around.

but who would do that when it doesn't matter. when it doesn't really matter.

and so thats how it goes. and mostly it's ok. I am content to go home and cuddle with my pitbull and love the people who still love me, flawed in my colorless kindness and uncomfortably open scrutiny as I am. I love them all the more for loving me as I am and loving me as I've become. we have an understanding. we have something better. trust.

but sometimes I'm in a crowd. or stumble upon a photo album. and I remember. there was a time when apparently I was cool enough to be fun, too. maybe I wasn't as nice as I am now, maybe I was. don't remember. but I was invited to these all day hang out and had some fun fucking some shit up or just lying by the fire.

that doesn't make me feel better. it just makes me feel old.

1 comment:

jen said...

so close to home it could make me cry if i had the time