Simple

There are “simple” times when I would rather not care. Not that I am a heartless bastard. But persons constantly traumatized by voluntary convergences of others onto their plane, give silence a treasured felicity.

Last night as the deafening roar of football season obliterated my television screen, I sighed realizing that for me football never changes. Aside from the team matchings, seeing men tackle each other to the ground has never been something I could get excited about. That’s simple. The reality is: People attend football games to spend time with special, important people. And if I cannot go to a game with someone who is going to actually take an interest in my spectator-ship of a game, why would I go?

It’s simple to say: Well, he or she or they hate (insert sport here) so I don’t want to invite them. That’s simple.

Taking the easy way out, I would say. I’d watch a boxing match if I had the commentary, laughter, and showmanship of the right friend. That’s the simple part.

The moment my cousin gave me this sob story about going to the game to support my other cousin who happens to be a talented, lovable band geek—-I asked myself: Was that enough for me to go to a football game? It was that simple. And then it wasn’t I had just got comfortable with my latest library book.

You guessed it. It was Danzy Senna’s “New People”  (I know you don’t know who Danzy Senna is.)

Simply. I have a wonderful smile. People fight to see it often at the expense of trying to get me to reverberate emotions like some mentally unstable newscaster.

I am kind, but it is that very kindness that is mistaken often for acquiescence.

No amount of education prepares the unsuspecting  for an exchange with the “frantic”. The frantic are always moving steadily to the new task.  A simple “How are you and what are you up to never occurs? It’s simple. You’ll rue the day you forgot to tell them hello if ever you’re casually taking their space.

I am sardonic when I see that the “frantic” are family members, loved ones, life partners, co-workers, class mates, math teachers, and doctoral candidates. That’s simple

Behind a lugubrious expression, I hide the catharsis that I’d rather express quite often. Like my nerdy engineer friend says: Don’t ask if you haven’t got time to receive the answers.

These statements are not simple as they permeate from “simple” me. Have you ever felt like an elegant lounge chaise in greatly adorned room? And each person takes a seat only to paw at your fabric. The chairs comfortable but it doesn’t go with an of the furniture in the home. The occupants, visitors and friends will never get rid of the chaise but they don’t exactly take care of it either.

These are simple things in a simple existence. The simple truth about some people is: They’ll tell you you’re invited, but nothing about your life is interesting enough to have you apart of their conversations.

I don’t plan my life based on conversation I’ll never have with people who only care for “a limited only”. Surely, we don’t choose the dysfunctional family’s we all have. We do have a right to choose to keep those people around that aren’t going to purposely make us feel like we have nothing interesting to give the world.

I see just how nuanced some of us are. And maybe that’s why my distance ratio is so very high. As people prepare to nuance more familial gatherings. I’ll be content with my books, theories, nerds, and cubicles. At least in them, I know that I’m a man of simple pleasures not grand aesthetic train wrecks.

 

 

 

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