Running Waters in Ultimate Randomness

Pretty spiffy title, huh? I am going to go a little reflective today, if that is alright by you. See, there are a couple of things that a person should know about me if they are really going to know me. The most important thing is knowing that nothing calms me or sets me at ease more than the sound of running water. Doesn't matter what kind: rain falling on the roof, a swift river rushing by, the ocean tides, even the sound of the shower running. All of these are my sounds. Some of them I miss dearly. I know I have mentioned before that I am not originally from Tennessee. I came here to be with my ex and, honestly, I do feel like I belong here for some reason. But there are certain things I miss. I miss the smell of the ocean during a rainstorm. We might get a little bit from time to time if a system passes close enough to the Gulf of Mexico and wanders back up this way, but that is about it. Growing up in Massachusetts, just south of Boston, I was not on the ocean, but close enough to enjoy it. I would make the occasional foray to the beach with friends or family and, usually, get a little sunburned. It happens. But what I always enjoyed was the smell of the rain when it came in off the ocean. Something about the salt in the air, being able to taste it when you would breathe in, always made me feel like things would be all right. For the most part, they were. If I had any problems growing up, it was all in my head. I was lucky enough to have a great childhood and wonderful parents. Sure, there were things going on under the surface of their marriage that I didn't see until my adult years, but at the time, I didn't see it. The most trouble I had to deal with was sorting out homework time and sports time. I used to play something every season. Soccer (or football if you prefer), basketball, and baseball. I played almost year round. So don't get me wrong. If I seem like I blame my problems on my childhood, or if it seems like I claim to have had a rough life, I am sorry. I know I had it better than most. Sure, we were about dirt poor. My parents had to partake of the local food pantry a couple of times. But I never felt like I was missing out on something as a kid. That didn't come until I was a teenager and definitely was a little bit of an outsider. What can I say? I'm a different kind of guy. Probably one of my problems in my love life. Women don't really know what to make of me sometimes. Live and learn I guess.

That, and the ocean thing, lead into the other thing a person should know about. I hope that everyone has a happy place. That place they can go to in their heads, or dream about making it to heaven to relive over and over again. I think it is a necessary component of life. If you have no place to retreat to in your head, eventually you will go nuts. I think it is important for me to relate this one here because it explains me better than I ever could. The irony is that it was the day right after my previous ex had broken up with me. I was down and out. I had just failed out of college a few months previous, but was planning on going back somewhere closer to home. I had a job, which I pretty much have had one consistently for the last 14 years or so. But everything felt like a wreck. Well, that morning, my best friends asked me if I wanted to go to Hampton Beach in New Hampshire with them. I'd never been, and I wasn't really in any position to argue since they pretty much said they were going to drag me along whether I liked it or not. So I went. It was me and my buddies Steve, Mike, Chris, and Amol. Quite the crew. And yeah, I know I don't normally use names on here but, if you were going to figure out who I was, you would have before now I am sure. Anyway, we drove up to the beach in Steve's van, which he affectionately called "The Shaggin' Wagon," though considering what little luck we all had with girls in high school, it seemed more ironic than anything. Still, we got to the beach pretty early and got ourselves set up with our chairs and a cooler and just sat and watched the ocean and talked for a time. I won't go into exact details because I just don't remember everything all detailed, but we did swim and goof off in the water, we sat and watched a cheerleading team having a summer practice on the beach in their bikinis (ahh, I miss that one), we walked on the boardwalk, got lunch in a little diner, played some games in the arcade, chilled on the beach some more, and finally went home, though I remember there being a stop at a strip club/porn store on the way home. Think I got something with lesbians in it. Hey, I am a guy, right? Give me a break, ok? I did just get my heart broken after all. I deserved something! Anyway, I got home and decided that things would eventually be ok. It took a few months, and a burgeoning relationship with my now ex along with things finally going right in school for the first time in awhile in classes I wanted to take, to get me all the way ok, but I got there and I was there for 5 or 6 years. I point this out for two reasons. First, I think it really goes a long way toward explaining the kind of person I am without putting it into words. Secondly, it also explains what is missing in my life this time. There is no beach, there are no friends making me leave the house, there isn't another girl who wants to cheer me up and has an interest in me (that I know of, and as I have stated, I am terrible at hints), and most of all, there are no cheerleaders. All I have is me, and while I have gotten myself through some things, it isn't enough to get me through everything feeling like it is collapsing down around my ears. I just feel like if I got that spark, that dragging me out of the house, that something or someone to perk me up, I might turn it around. I could be ok. And I promise that this time, if that girl does show up, she will never forget how grateful I am to her. That is something I would do right this time. I really do hope she is out there, somewhere close by. I don't see me moving halfway across the country again. But until then, I try to hold it together the best I can. Hell, I haven't missed a day of work in the last 9 years after all. But we shall see. Until next time y'all...