How many faces do we have? I got to thinking about this on my flight back from Toronto. Not only did I forget my iPod at the hotel, I also forgot my necklace. I never part with my necklace. Ever. Ever. I can't recall the last time I flew without it. The importance? The significance? It has a cross and St. Christopher pendant on it. St. Christopher is the patron saint of travellers. When you're too tired to travel, cannot take one more step, feel like crying and breaking down, not wanting to move anymore, St. Christopher is there to guide you, give you more energy to carry on or carry you. Believe me, flying into Ottawa, I don't really remember anything after disembarking from the plane.
But that's all beside the point. Flying without my protection, got me thinking about what we believe in. What people know about us. How many people know I say the Lord's prayer twice on take-off and twice on landing? How many people know my deepest darkest secrets. What commandments I've broken, what I've asked for forgiveness for. My hopes. My dreams. Somes I wonder if I even know. I used to know what I wanted.
There comes a time where you put your dreams away and replace it with the reality. The reality is, while people get married, people have families, raise kids, how many feel alone? Even when someone's laying there beside you, how many feel empty? I don't like sleeping with people. There's something weird about that to me. The fact that someone can lay there and watch you while you're asleep, while you're most vulnerable, freaks me out. I've only ever gotten beyond the "that's creepy" feeling twice.
There's the loyal daughter, the nice sister, the friend you turn to when you need a favour. Need a ride to the airport.
Why is it "okay" for us to laugh and get angry in public but when you cry, people around you feel uncomfortable? Why isn't crying in public normal? I thought about this on the long flight to Ottawa, when we were waiting to get off the plane and this baby started crying. I thought to myself, "yeah I feel like crying too." People turned around and were going, "aww poor baby" and giving sympathetic glances to the mother. Would they have done the same thing if I started crying too or would they have awkwardly pretended not to see or hear?
If you lost yourself along the way. The person you believed yourself to be, the person you once thought you were, does anyone really know you?
I'm operating on very little sleep. There's the blog person. The person who spouts shit about hockey, about travelling, about stupid shit, really.
I'm operating on very little sleep. There's the blog person. The person who spouts shit about hockey, about travelling, about stupid shit, really.
The work place knows the person who can spout rhetoric and debate and analyze and give advice. They know I drink grande peppermint hot chocolate. That I'm incapable of office politics. That I'm far too serious.
Some know that I've loved and lost. Maybe I'm still bitter about it all. Or gun shy. Maybe some losses are hard to overcome. Maybe when your soul is laid bare before someone else's feet, and they can walk away, you don't ever want to be that vulnerable again. Maybe you only get one person you can comfortably fall asleep and wake up beside. I suppose I should be grateful, for lack of a better word, that I had two. And if schedules work out, I may be able to see the second, or first as the case may be, while in Australia.
Maybe I haven't had enough sleep in 5 days.
Labels: Go Oilers Go, I love Ryan Smyth
About me
- Grace
- British Columbia, Canada
- jealous, insecure,narcissistic, paranoid, and delusional
- My profile