Mostly Talk

Some people are natural conversationalists. Some of us are not. Those of us who are not sometimes are labeled timid, quiet, reserved, dim-witted, private…the list goes on. Sometimes, the labels are radically different: pounce-ready, silently seething, brilliantly-murderous, pre-explosive, drenched in self-confidence…that list, too, extends for an eternity. Only people who spend a very long time in the presence of those of us who are simply observers or listeners can correctly (often) assign legitimate labels to us. Those labels might be legitimate for one minute or one hour or one day or one week, but they do not apply 24-7. Just like many others, observers tend to rotate between personalities. That means none of us can properly apply labels—that are reliably correct—to others. Our knowledge of people inside and outside of our spheres is, therefore, often artificial and almost always (at least partially) wrong.  We stumble blindly through individual and social experiences. No worries, though; we’re all equally as deaf, as well, and can smell a rat when we feel it biting our fingers. And even natural conversationalists often speak, unintentionally, in tongues that cannot differentiate between flavors.


Meteorologists suggest that has-been Hurricane Beryl, now a tropical storm, may renew its “hurricane” label over the coming days as it nears the Texas coast. Forecast maps show the remnants of the storm sweeping through Arkansas on Thursday, with 25 MPH winds and some rain. Gentle rain is among the many weather events with which I have a close and personal relationship. Moderate winds, too, are my friends. That having been said, I also am enamored with shrieking, howling winds and horizontal, needle-like raindrops that appear capable of piercing steel; I prefer watching such storms from the safety of comfortable, impenetrable shelters. We shall see what actually transpires.


Heart-burn has interrupted my evenings for two nights running. Somehow or another, I got in my head the idea that I was to stop using a prescription medication meant to prevent heartburn. Instead, I relied on Tums after-the-fact. I cannot trace the source of my apparent misunderstanding, so I will renew my nightly ritual of taking the prescribed medication. I wonder, though, if I would not have had the heartburn if the stresses an worries of the last few days had been absent. No matter how I try, I cannot seem to fully anaesthetize myself against them. I fully understand the pointless of worry; intellectual understanding and emotional sensation are entirely different experiences (as I’m sure I’ve said dozens of times). I’ll have some answers later in the week; that realization may quiet those stresses. If not the realization, maybe ****** will accomplish the task.


A different environment. Like one on another planet, far far away.

About John Swinburn

"Love not what you are but what you may become."― Miguel de Cervantes
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