I wake up every morning to the mockingbird singing a variety of sweet songs.
I stand and watch the birds from the patio door, and they seem to know just what to do year after year. It’s like they are programmed to do these things.
I wish I was programmed to do the correct things. Life would not be nearly so hard.
Look how fast Goldilock’s hair is getting. Just planted it last week, but she’s already got a full head of hair.
The other day I walked down to the first patio home (I am the fourth at the end) to take my trash out. I lifted the lid of the big dumpster, swung the bag around and lost my balance.
Fell to the ground, twisted my ankle a bit, but it seems okay now, though at night I’m applying ice. And I’m sporting two knobby knees that are a mess. Thought it would never stop bleeding.
I was always a clumsy person. As a child, I consistently had big band-aids across my knees or elbows. I was always tripping and falling.
I should buy stock in band-aids, for I order a box pretty much every month.
With my daughter, I’m starting to let some of the pretense fall away. Not that I was good at it to start with. But there are lots of things children (adult or otherwise) accept because it is what they want to hear.
Last weekend, her back was to me. She was bending over doing something. And I heard her ask about various friends I’ve had.
“I can’t keep friends long,” I told her.
She straightened up and turned to me. After a pause, she said: “Why?” Though I think she already knew. Was beginning to figure out how things really are.
“Because eventually I say the too-wrong thing,” I said to her.
She just stood there looking at me with the saddest eyes. As her mother, I’ve tried to protect her from a lot of what is. But she is 36, and I’ve never been a good liar. I don’t want to gloss over things. I just want to tell it like it is.
It is true. The story of my life. Some people meet me and figure out right away that something is wrong, and I never hear from them again. Others hang on for awhile. But I don’t have adequate social filters, and most of the time I blurt out exactly what I’m thinking.
And there go friends.
Children do this, and of course it is acceptable. But when you become an adult, it is expected that you have figured out the ways of being sociable without offending. And I never quite learned that.
I don’t mean to offend. But I don’t seem to know how to lie when it would be better to lie. People don’t always want to hear the truth.
I remember my grandmother was the same way, very childlike. My mother, the three times I met her, seemed the very same way. It was like their bodies grew but their brains never caught up.
I have a hard time judging what is appropriate. I can be exceedingly perceptive in some ways, and very childlike in others. I don’t know why this is.
I wish I could wear filters. I wish they were like my glasses that I put on every morning.
But there is no such thing. And thus, friends don’t usually stick around long. Or even family members.
I castigate myself for this, for not knowing how to be. But I’m tired. And life as it is is hard enough. So I’m just trying to take it hour by hour. Day by day.
I feel very strongly about things. I worry about the birds come winter and whether the male cardinal has found a mate.
I often answer questions with the full unbiased truth when I apparently wasn’t supposed to. I am very literal.
I don’t get the whole social “don’t tell the truth about certain things, because people may ask you for the truth, but they don’t really want to hear it.”
When I ask a question, I really want to hear the answer.
I tend to want to give the coat off my back.
I don’t miss the things. They are, of course, just things.
And since I can’t always please people in conversation, I think I should at least send them away with something to make up for my social faux pas.
Did you know that faux pas is French for “false step?”
I seem to make a lot of false steps.
I don’t understand subterfuge.
Duplicity and dishonesty sail right over my head.
The world is a tiring place when you don’t comprehend the rules.