Rainy Days
It's not pouring that bad outside. Just enough drizzle for me to sit on the front porch, listen to the rain, and brave a Pepsi. Did a little bit of reading today. Got a chance to research a few things.
My goal tonight during my down time at work is to set out an outline for my next 3 series of artwork. Been doing a lil drafting on the PC. Got a few ideas that might make it to canvas by spring.
Got a letter from a good friend today (well at least I opened it today) telling me to get my ass to the A. I wish it was that simple. Keep getting myself into things that slow up my move and use the excuse "I'm taking my time" oh so well.
I often use the phrase "Once I'm gone, I'm gone!" and when I say it to a particular person for whatever reason, it's never taken seriously, at least until they try to reach out to me, only to become unsuccessful. I said it to Mr. Kia just the other day. Mr. Kia knows me very well. And so he says, "so I take it that you want me to delete your number from my phone?" I said "yes" as politely as I can. Which pretty much ended our chapter and closed our book for good. I'll miss most, his effort. This was a man that when he said he was going to do something, it would get done, and early. Now if I was a minute late on the other hand, all Hell broke loose. LOL. His confidence superceeded him, but I can't be the judge of whether it was good or bad. It worked for him. I'll miss the fact that he paid attention to me. He can tell you what I won't eat, music I don't like, the kind of jeans I'll only wear, the man even knows my favorite eye shadow color, my favorite
art supply store, I even have a habit when I drive. A thing that I do, so he always made sure that when we took our roadtrips, he had a trial sized lotion, a box of Altoids, and a bag of seeds in the car for me. But to both of our surprise, our energies didn't mix well at all. Our personalities clashed, and his attentive to detail often got in the way of my humerous free spirit. So part, we must do.
Had to part with another friend just last night. One that I don't think believes me when I say "when I'm gone, I'm gone." We'll call him Mr. Buscuit. (there's a story behind that name) Strange occurance though. I've known him for a good 12+ years. Same as Mr. Kia. In fact we all met at the same time. But him and Mr. Kia have had a tension between them for the past 12+ years, nothing to do with me, I'm just the mutual friend. But strangly, I was returning a week old call to Mr. B., we exchanged hello's and he asked me to call him back in 5 minutes.
Now my history with Mr. B. goes as follows. We speak roughly every 3 months or so. I might stop by every 6 months or so. We have fun, enjoy each others company, and keep it moving. Occasional voicemail taps here and there.
But something was up with him last night. Mr. B. is a very private person, I'm a lil more on the open side. The 5-10 minutes went by, okay maybe an hour and a half but whose counting here? I called him back. At first he was very pleasent... Until I said " where u at?" like I'm on the Boost Mobile payroll. He yelled "Yo!" so I repeated myself thinking he didn't hear me. Then his panties got all up in a bunch, he yelled my name angry and hung up?!?! Huh!? Okay I was lost, one, and two, he hung up on me. So I calls back. He says hello, I go to ask why he hung ... And 'click'
Okay that's it. I calls back again with my persistant little self, to go on to say that whatever it is that has him pissed off and has nothing to do with me, at which point... 'click' LOL. Dammit! I laughed it off and said to hell with him. Again, once I'm gone, well you know the rest.
The rain has settled a little. I've taken a break to eat and clean the kitchen. Now I understand it when my favorite NFL coach B-chic said about Brady. "Life goes on. He was a good player, but he can be replaced with another good player." As cruel as it may sound, it's the truth. 30 years into my making and I can't waste one moment on sour feelings of old friends. Mr. Kia will be glad, he hated my relation with Mr. B.
Boys will be boys. . .
(e)
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