Playing Jazz with Words

In my line of work (mediocre desk job, mediocre cycling skills, mediocre discipline for all things greasy and stimulating) good things do not come in a string of events often. I could be making progress in one aspect then realize the lack of attention in another. An even rarer instance is when a string of events happen that go well. So much so that when plans are so successful, a knee-jerk dose of paranoia hits to make sure your head doesn’t get too far in the clouds.

Take this weekend for example. A series of “hell yeah!”‘s were had to the point that I had no choice but to consider the fact that this was clearly too good to be true. Never have I felt so comfortable in my skin and at the same time I cannot let myself fall completely sold on the idea that a fun filled weekend cannot be balanced without some negativity. I wonder why this may be my common response. Perhaps it has something to do with that tender, nostalgic state of bliss as a kid. 

I had mentioned in a previous post that there was a hay day in my childhood that I find when I resort back to recollect, I become overwhelmed with existential emotions. That childhood bliss is filled with powerful emotions that when rediscovered can have you in a pool of your own tears quickly. Trying to reignite that feeling can lead to some dark, and embarrassing paths that were most likely a bad idea to begin with (mainly because nostalgia is a poison.)

The reason I bring this up is because I’ve gotten the closest to this same type of intensity through my own experiences. Some may be based on previous childhood experiences (a trip to Raging Waters, which I’ve been to for several (of my own) birthdays) but have not lead me to reconfigure my lifestyle to get that same hit of nostalgia along a familiar (and beaten) path. 

I’ve got some great friends that don’t need me to give a long winded speech to go detail by detail on how much ass they kick. You know a bond is strong when the vivid words you’re thinking don’t need to be said to be understood. The same goes for immediate family. While it may be somebody else’s turn to do some growing up ( my siblings of course, I’m never growing up) things seem to work out in their own slightly dysfunctional, but enjoyable way.

Until next time…. 


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