Well, let's see, what's the wreckage this week?
A few charged words in an online conversation roll like bowling pins, hitting knees and toes and feelings right and left as they go.
A curt email in response to a friends ill-timed suggestion elicits another, equally terse.
Hurt words and feelings shot in haste towards a friend to plumb for honesty have the opposite effect-of sundering the nascent relationship in a barrage of blame.
That's not even to list the ambivalent, secretive, regretful messages, to which I respond with missives (missiles) wracked with my childish anger at being put in such a spot--again and again. The spot in which I apparently placed myself quite a while ago.
Not bad for a week of online communication. Or very bad, perhaps. Some of the damage has been fixed. Some not. Some is out of my hands. But I know in the core of my being that if someone values my time, and my friendship, they will want to find a place for me in their real lives.
Perhaps I am too rigid-I've certainly been told that by a few guys (who may have had agendas)...yet I find myself craving contact with people who want to sit and drink tea, watch the wind race through the evergreens, and talk theology and politics and poetry-- in a place where we can view each other's faces.
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