Boys Remember

Well, we do in our own rather boyish way. We also like to hide behind our sex. Some of us wish this was a literal statement, but I was actually talking about our gender. I was about to do this "hiding" in this entry; say something about the way boys remember things...with the boy in the center, affected by all around them, instead of actually witnessing their effect on the world as they pass through it.

I like to think not taking responsibility for my own responses is a "boy thing" or a "victim thing" or "That's just the way he is" thing...but damn it I've paid attention for too long to know this is a cop out.

Being the only boy in large family of women it has always been easy for me to play the Boy card, because I was the only one in the family dealt that particular card. But in my vain attempts of being self-aware and responsible I'm trying to stop myself from taking the easy way out. Women, make it easy, b.t.w. because for the most part they also believe this. It's no secret women are the better of the two sexes.

I wrote a blog entry in May of 03 about the history I had with a friend. The catalyst for the story came from a good place, a genuine care for the well-being of said friend. The outcome, however, landed very far off the mark. Like if a parachuter meant to land on the giant red X in the middle of a field, but instead landed in a wood chipper. That far off, far off.

Today I went back and read this entry after aforementioned friend left me a comment. Ouch. What prickish things to write. (me not the friend.) I think I was attempting to be witty and cute as I watered down her life story and served it from my very Ego touched point of view.

I was going to start this entry off with something regarding boys and the way they remember things. Allude to the fact I was a victim to my gender. My brain just catalogs things differently and how it synapticly reproduces the past for me is how I must write when retelling my past. But that's just dumb.

The fact is I thought we had an interesting past and I wanted to exploit it for a blog entry. Not intentionally, probably. I didn't wake up and think "I haven't talked to her in awhile, I think I'll crap all over her memory in a blog today and serve it up as funny." But you know looking back with older eyes, and bit lighter in the ego I have to say...this is what I did. And I am sorry.

I'm not going to deny this person did some pretty crazy things. Prickly memories I'm sure that wake her up at night. But who doesn't? I scrambled up the past a bit I think because of my own Prickly memories. Like the ones reminding me I pretty much turned my back on her when she most needed a friend. When she was at place where she essentially knew no one but me. I'm a jerk. But I'm trying.

I hope you are well.