Are you there G-d, it is me Jack. You know, that crazy kid who grew up down the street from you. You remember me, when I was five I got chased down the street by the neighbor's dog. The same neighbor who gave me that awful Kool-Aid concoction that made me puke through my nose.
Kind of nasty, but when you are five nasty is kind of cool. Gave me some sort of street cred, not that I knew what to do with it. Or at least I don't really remember knowing much about it. But maybe I did, maybe that five year old boy knew some secrets that he has since forgotten.
Ya know G-d, I am not all that different from a lot of people. I like to think that I make an impression upon people, that they remember me. You can call it ego, fear or insecurity, but it is just nice to know. I know, I say that I don't care about any of that. Most of the time I don't, but I have my moments.
Is it a contradiction? I suppose, but that is ok. Women change their minds all the time and although I am most assuredly male I am happy to write this off as being part of getting in touch with my feminine side. But let's be clear, I don't need 2,876 pairs of shoes or want to decorate my home in some sort of flowery motif.
G-d, I have got to tell you that I am not sure how I feel about you these days. Do you have any idea how many friends of mine have died? It started in junior high. You remember that girl that had a seizure in the bathtub and drowned. What was that about? Or what about those kids that died every year I was in high school.
Two neighbors died in car accidents during college another girl that I kind of knew was killed in Europe. Of course we can't forget about D. He really was like a brother to me. Twenty-nine, why? What the hell is that about.
And then last year three more. Two mothers and a divorced guy. C'mon G-d, WTF is that about. It doesn't make sense to me.
I mean I understand that when I was 20 it might have been a little forward to ask you to put a good word in with Ann Stacey for me. Ok, I didn't ask for a good word. I asked you to give me a couple of hours of alone time and promised to close the deal.
Have to tell you that I feel kind of foolish here. I am not sure that you are listening. Can't say that this is anything but it a very poor attempt to engage in some sort of silly blogging trick. Nah, scratch that, this is something a bit more than that. It is me cleaning out the pipes and stretching my legs a bit.
Not sure if it is working, but we'll see.
3 comments:
That is so very strange. I wrote a 'So, why did I convert?' post yesterday and made a reference to the very book that you, err, referenced. In case you're interested, here it is (subtle, huh!?)
http://shavuatov.wordpress.com/so-why-did-i-convert/
On a serious note - yes, I get the questions about the deaths you are referring to. I get scared silly about the seizure in the bathtub scenario, and yet, I still take baths. Live life to the max, I say, and if that means I get to take a bath every once in a while, well, that means my life is uber-dull if that's living life to the max!
That wasn't so serious, after all. Yet it was meant to be. We don't have the answers - perhaps we're not meant to have them all. He certainly keeps us guessing.
Sayonara, for now.
rachel
Hi Rachel,
Enjoyed your post. I don't really expect any answers min hashamayim. The kind that I search for always come from within.
It makes it hard sometimes but...
Thanks - I like positive feedback (and the masochistic in me endures the 'constructive' criticism).
And I agree, the 'but' is sometimes the best bit...
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