You know, I don't carry a purse. Once in a while I TRY to carry a purse, but I just can't make it work for me. Books, pens, dictionarys, drugs, and all my other stuff... it just won't fit in a cute little handbag. And aside from that, I just hate purses. I don't know why. I dislike purses so much that on those occasions when I'm forced to carry a purse, I can't bring myself to refer to it as "my purse." What the heck? Did some bully beat me up with a purse when I was two, and now I'm scarred for life against purses?
Anyhow, all my stuff fits in a knapsack, which I refer to as "my backpack." A leather Jansport I've had since college. It's older than both my kids and when I kick the bucket, there's probably going to be a legal dispute about who gets the backpack. (For the record, it should be cremated with me. Why the hell not? It might as well be an appendage.)
Point? You're wondering what's my point? Well, we writer types... we're always making analogies, comparing mundane stuff to life, so I think I'm attempting to make an analogy of my backpack, the baggage in it, the loyalty factor (it and me), the trust thing... all that philosophical horse hockey of which I'm so fond. I'm attempting this analogy as a way of apologizing or explaining to some of my offput friends (of late) why I'm being so... whatever it is I am right now. Insultingly cautious? Impulsively impossible? Aloof? A bitch?
Okay, so yes... I've been recently wounded. But does that excuse rudeness? Being angry in itself pisses me off because it's so defeatist! It's like saying, "Hey! Look at me! I'm a victim! I give in to the hurt because life has rattled my cage, and I, the delicate flower, deserve to be upset. And you, the rest of the world, should be equally as outraged!"
Still, no matter what logic I use on myself, I cannot shake it, this personal isolationism.
On one hand, even as I'm IN THE ACT of writing some accusatory remarks that repel and insult would-be friends, I'm thinking, "Is it really necessary to be hostile to people who are just trying to be nice, make conversation? They're not ALL jerks, you know, Chris."
But at the same time, my rationale for rudeness is, "I've got friends who know who I am because they've taken the time to know who I am. New friends are nice to have, but maybe I'm not in the best frame of mind for that right now."
Legitimate leeriness... reasonable reticence, to be sure. But there has to be a more graceful way of going about it. Unrelenting anger, powerful as it feels, is so draining, not to mention alienating. What's more, it's not who I've ever been or who I want to be. I can't stand feeling suspicious of every person who wants to have a conversation. And furthermore, when my trusted friends tell me I'm being oversensitive, I seriously want to kick them in the shins.
Wait a minute. What's this got to do with my backpack? Let's see... baggage, storing and using stuff, tools for survival, steadfast leathery companions, conflict between demure and outspoken... I'm sure there's a connection somewhere.
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