Yeah, it's cliche.
Yeah, it's tired out.
Yeah, everyone says it.
But I've never been good at saying goodbyes.
The problem is that my longtime obsession with film has left me with a permanent disability, one in which I have a tendency to picture things in my head with a movie-like quality to them. Things get dramatic and epic and completely unrealistic.
Therein lies my problem with goodbyes.
I imagine them way beforehand coming off perfectly.
I say all the right things, they say all the right things, and the laws of physics are defied with each party riding off into the sunset separately.
Only it never happens that way.
Instead, my knack for awkwardness comes out in force and I usually find myself lucky to just walk away without tripping over my feet.
So, I found myself really dreading the goodbyes before leaving.
And I did not plan for it very well.
In addition to all the goodbye-ing to do during that last week, I basically left everything else too. All my packing, all my last minute purchases, all my banking, all the boxing and sorting of remaining things to be saved or sold.
That is, to say, it was Very Typical Me.
I find I work best under pressure. Or so I will continue to tell myself up until the day I die (which will probably also be stressful because I will have left so many things to do then as well...)
So, in the last week, on top of all the other tasks, I had to say goodbye to dozens of co-workers, friends, and family.
Maybe that's the best way for me to make sure to say goodbyes. Load up on all other responsibilities. Leave myself with so little time that I can't possibly dramatize it. Postpone it all until the last possible second, leaving myself no other out. No more excuses. I can't delay a goodbye by choosing to pack. And I can't put off packing so I can say goodbye. Just turn the whole damn thing into a 24-Hour, Last Minute, Bust-Your-Ass-To-Get-It-All-In Free For All.
That being said, it worked pretty well this time.
...
You ever have one of those moments where you step back to really look at yourself and think, "Man, I really have matured..."?
...
Me neither.
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5 comments:
i don't like strong suits so much. I prefer soft, flexible ones.
It's good to read your writing again, kiddo.
And I know exactly what you mean about scripting scenes in your head. I've been kinda sorta working on a screenplay for a number of years. Which really magnifies my tendency to script everyday life.
I didn't know that you started the blog back up. You're a mean doo doo head for not telling me. I love you.
-$
the question i have for you is, does anyone in sweeden fear me yet? i mean other than jenny. whom i wish would not. maybe a little. no no no, nevermind, then she wont come to my wedding. anyway, remember spread my terror across northern europe. and send me an e-mail if you get any "free time". later homey, fear and loathing in stockholm
everybody-goes-awww.blogspot.com; You saved my day again.
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