An Art Form

I sat waiting on the edge of my seat listening to the ringing on the other end. The phone held to my ear with one hand, a cigarette in the other. I took a deep drag and blew out a long stream of smoke. The phone continued to ring and just as I was about to hang up I heard the hello on the other end.

A part of me was disappointed there was an answer. Another part of me was disappointed in myself for feeling that way.

I knew what was to come, I also knew I had no choice but to call. You would think something awful had happened and I was dreading what I was about to hear but alas this was just a weekly phone call. A call I wish would be fresh and enjoyable. A call I wish I could look forward to.

Why is it that a simple phone call to your mother can set you so on edge. The thought of listening to the same complaints you heard the week before can be unnerving to say the least. Don't get me wrong I love my mother and love to talk and spend time with her but there are times when it's all I can do to listen to the... the... Well, the outright bitching about anything and everything. "sigh" I hate to say it that way but it is what it is.

Listen is what I do despite the fact sometimes I would rather walk across hot coals. Listening is what she needs and bitching is what she loves. Complaining can be an art form and some people seem to perfect it as they get older.

I listen and I feel guilty for not wanting to. I tell myself its a good learning experience to listen. It lets me know that life really is how you look at it and there will always be those that see it in all it's splendor and those that see it in it's most insignificant ways. So, I call and I listen to the complaints of the day. The complaints that are often the same complaints of another day, and I hope for those rare occasions when there aren't any complaints and laughter and good will fills the line.

Whats the point?

Question:
Does the internet really need another blog?

Answer:
No, no, not really.

So why start a blog? I guess a bit of boredom comes into play. Also there seems to be a strange need to write about those things the come to mind when I'm in those in between moments.

So there you have it my reasons for this blog. Nothing fancy, just some random thoughts in the interim.