The Cure for Boredom

I’ve always admired your writing and secretly wished I could write like you.  I was always amazed at the weird, comical things that happened to you and your loved ones and again secretly wished something wacky would happen to me so I could write about it.

Then again, this is the internet.  I could write anything I wanted and no one would be the wiser.  As long as I cured their boredom, right? 

Sometimes you wrote stuff that made me laugh until I made a pee-pee; sometimes you wrote stuff that made me cry.  Sometimes you wrote stuff that made me sob and hug my kids until their eyes popped out.  I had a pretty crappy childhood but when I read about yours it made mine look like a fairy tale.  Sometimes your writing was this-close to being Too Personal, sometimes that wee bit of TMI made it worth reading.

Your latest entry made me cry but not in a good way.  I was shocked.  I was appalled.  It made me question your motives and it made me angry that you felt like you had no other choice but to do what you did.  I lashed out at your loved ones and as of this writing I’m only 46% sure I said the right thing.   My never having met said loved ones erases the remaining 54% surety I thought I had the other day.  Thinking back I did what I always do: I put myself in front of you computer and thought Now how would I have written that same story?  In hindsight your story seemed rushed, like you were in a hurry to get it out of your head and away from your person lest you be fouled by the memory of it.   Perhaps you didn’t save a draft so you could come back and “pretty it up” a bit?  There were big chunks that were left out that I found out about later in the day, chunks that would have given your story the humanity and warmth that you are famous for.

Jesus said that he who is without sin cast the first stone.  Who reading this has NEVER sent that hastily written email, or blog comment, only to regret it later?  Who here has never sent a poorly written email only to hurt the recipients feelings, whether intentional or not?  While the subject of the story was indeed heartbreaking (and I’ll be honest, I’m STILL having trouble wrapping my brain around THAT) the story did have a happy ending, if only in the yowling, floppy-eared-running-through-the-woods way. 

Your comments are turned off, you are taking a mini-vacation from emails (and if they are half as nasty as I think I don’t blame you) and I called the only contact you’ve provided an asshole.  Hopefully you’ll read this and realize that I’m not trying to demonize you; I’m just trying to understand you.  Everyday my cat improves; his eyes are livelier, his fur is softer and better groomed and the incessant drooling has stopped.  He was smelling and foul and horribly inconvenient but I NEVER entertained the solution you felt you had no choice in doing.  I’m still mad that you were pushed into that emotional corner yet again I’m mad at you for not being strong enough to resist despite the hells you’ve been through in your life.

You have not lost this reader.  Not yet, anyway; if you suddenly start singing disco and posting pictures of Obama with a halo and angel’s wings all bets are off.