Between the lines
I was thinking about a few years ago when someone close to me said, well you sound so happy in your blog, you don’t sound like you are lamenting anything. And then yesterday, when someone mentioned me not writing about the oil spill that much. I’m here to say there is a lot that doesn’t get written just like there is tons that doesn’t get uttered that goes through the minds of most people. There are the thoughts that swim and swarm in our minds, which pass fleetingly or stay obsessively, and range for me from missing my mom to remembering a slight thirty years ago. Or there are the questions and doubts that populate the periphery of my thoughts that question if what I’m doing now makes sense in the long run or I just wonder if I am still feeling the consequences of what I did and didn’t realize long ago.
I dreamt last night about someone, who was a composite of many someones and our conversation was a composite of many conversations, and I woke as if something familiar had just happened and yet I wasn’t sure if it was good, bad or neutral but it left me feeling pensive and unresolved as if I was about to have a case of the Eli’s Coming or I was about to cross over from my melancholy into a more transcendental place – hard to say.
A long time friend who refers to me as a Polyanna only knows this, I put my best face forward, my game face, but read between the many lines on my face and you will see shades of doubt, paranoia, pessimism, fear that can’t obscure happiness, joy, love, confidence but certainly colors it. And all of it bears telling, but most times there is not enough time to dwell on what is between the lines. A lot gets left on the cutting room floor.