Is sharing caring?

Looking out the window. It looks gray. After a lot of hours, the family comes home, one by one. As they left, I lay in bed. When they get home, I'm in bed. They look a little longingly at my pillows, warm quilts, piles of magazines and books. Maybe they're thinking they'd like to swap with me.

I'd love to switch.

Updating my status on FB, getting some comments pretty quickly. People who feel sorry, and who tell of their own accident stories.

I've been through that before. When an acquaintance, friend or relative dies, I often hear my friends talk about their own experiences of death. I used to get a little confused by that. I wondered why it felt so important to compare accidents. Or even compete a little in them.

Now, with window views of slowly approaching days, I'm struck by another thought. Maybe it's their way of understanding and dealing with difficult things. To relate it to themselves, and their own lives. Perhaps, therefore, sometimes it is easier to get to know new people of about the same age as oneself. There is a lot in common, many experiences that can unite. Perhaps it is not an egocentric need to always put oneself at the center, that makes people pick out their own stories, but on the contrary, a pretty good method of dealing with and empathizing with the unfortunate.

Or?

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The Odd Pair - Chapter 3

- It’s a thrill to be sure. And the pleasure is all mine, I assure you. We have been expecting…I mean, we had been hoping for a signal of some sort, so our lab team was overjoyed when it suddenly broke through. No, they are still working on that sir, but we felt you should be the first to know. I mean, the first civilian. I mean, eh, never mind, shall we? Ah, here is Dr Whirst, she has promised to guide us through the…excentrities this time around. This way, if you please, Mrs Secretary. - Hi. I’m doctor Whirst, but you can call me Callie. That’s what everyone around here does anyway. So, you came to see the big kaloohey, eh? Yeah, well, I didn’t bring out the bells and whistles for this one, let me tell you. See, there was this one time, in the K´thar desert where it seemed we really… oh sorry, yes of course…I quite understand…take your time. I forget what it must be like for grumpies to pass that gate, myself, I am so used to…sorry again. Yes of course. Yes… Can do… Right, howev...

The Odd pair

”Violence is never the answer”, the monk says, pumping his shotgun. ”But you don’t always have to be right”. I look at him in disbelief, soon to be growing panic. How did we get from peddling serenity training lockers to…this? True, I had only known Theseus for..let’s see…two weeks, but still. In two weeks you’d think stir crazy would pop out its head and yank at you. At least once? But no. Theseus (Dzisus, is that even his name? Maybe I don’t know anything about him) seemed as regular as Volvo. It was smooth sailing and inward smiles all through camp training. Not one to stand out, I thought myself lucky to be paired with him. I had looked in disbelief at some of the other recruits. Misfits, ex-druggies, clean-cut loonies, and the occasional seeker. No, I could have done much worse, of this I had felt certain. And the first three days of door-knocking here in….Tubersville (population 563) was apple pie and cream cheese. Perhaps we got more door-slammers than lemonade glasses to our...

13

it’s not what it looks like. it’s much much worse. i found out the other day. The champagne was sweet, we had it opened and it was sweet. I wanted to take it for a spin so i tried to explain. About the lies. The small common misunderstandings we require to function. The looks in your eyes. They should be bottled and sold. They are a rare commodity. Take charge. Never mind the propaganda. Feel the silken soft touch. But beware the beautiful people. They are not to be trusted. What can i say? Corrosion. Corroded. Shifting shape. becoming familiar.

Quinten Surrepetitive

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