There seems to be a phenomenon happening in front of my house. I think that there must be an antenna stuck on top of my head that gives it away. I think that I have mistaken for a mobile GPS. Even in a street full of people, a lost person seems to choose me to ask for directions. Even people driving by seem to do it too. I am wondering if my love of maps is written on my face. Give me a map and compass and I am in my element.
I would like to see the rule book that states that I have love football just because of my sex. To take that a step further, any ball sport. I have no fondness for them what so ever and see them as pointless. Is it because I have balls that I have to have some sympathetic tie to them? I just don’t see the point. It is not that I don’t like sport, quite the contrary; it is just that I like things that have a point to them, where some value can be derived from the effort. In the case of football, I can only see the value as training better shop lifters, where you take an item and try to dodge those trying to arrest you. But that is almost honorable because there is a point to effort and the prize is the stolen good. In the case of “game”, you have stupid rules governing how you can handle the ball and how to arrest the progress of the one carrying it. Then if they are injured, the news is littered with poor overpaid player. Don’t even get me started on soccer.
Any patch, on any repair, requires the addition of extra material to cover and protect the wounded area. The result of such a repairs results in a toughening of the compromised area so it will not fail again or cause failure to the unit is a part of. No matter how much integrity the wounded area once had it is now a point of weakness. The patch is a physical display of where the wound is and an area that may need defending. The same can said of emotions, even if there is no physical patch that you can see.
In male culture, it is unmanly to show signs of weakness. Exposing your vulnerabilities is something that is not done. Live long enough and you will find someone that you can think you can confide in you can expose your weakness too in the name of honesty. For a man with any honor, truthfulness is a high quality that they try to live up to. If lucky he would have chosen the right person and never have his weakness used against him. If not he feels compelled to suffer the anguish alone while giving the appearance of being unscathed.
If you get into a conversation with such a man you will find that he picks up on certain things, a look, a reaction. All of a sudden he appears to be very insightful into emotional pain which surprises since he appears bulletproof. What he has done is pick up on something he feels like he wants to do but is compelled not too. His insights are based on his own experience and he has milled over on his own to find a way out. Males who don’t find that way out see death as their only release. Statistically males are more prone to suicide. For those who have been emotionally destroyed, there is no experience sharing because to do that would be to expose the wound but they are very mindful of seeing it in others. The trick is trying to approach those males without them losing face of compromising their manliness.
If you are bless with their admission of weakness they are displaying a level of trust in you that is beyond all measure. During this process you will find them asking weird questions which, on face value, appear to be confusing. What is being done is an assessment of how much value they are too you. They are defending that wound now covered in scar tissue. At that moment they are admitting they are human.
It was a beautiful serene morning, about 3 am and the stars were bright and all lit up because of the full moon. Now some may wonder what you would be doing awake at this time of the morning but those who know me know that I don’t sleep very well. So I was indulging in my dirty nicotine out the front of my house, because I don’t smoke inside when I heard the sound of footsteps. There was not a soul about, as you may expect at this time of the morning, so I looked up the street to see what the causing them. There in the middle of the road was a tracksuit wearing, grey haired thing approaching me. So you may think nothing of that but he was approaching me backwards.
At this weird hour, the full moon and this weird site I thought I had just entered the Twilight Zone. There was nothing else to gauge time by so I thought for a second that time was going backward and here I was stuck in some place between time, like in some Dean Kontz novel. Add to that what would a grey haired man be doing at that time of the morning walking down the road backwards.
I finished my ciggy and hurried inside to look at a clock just to make sure I was not stuck in a world on rewind.
