Thursday, October 21, 2010


I once had a guy tell me, I'm just a normal guy.

Part of me thinks it's a great break up line. No I'll call you or It's me. Simply a nice, little I'm just a normal guy. Thank you. I guess that's supposed to make me not like you. You being a normal guy and all.

You could say this is sad. It's sad because my first thought, not actually said, response was, Oh, you just think you're a normal guy. You're not normal. You are incredible. Beautiful, in fact. I think you hung my moon and rocked the world. How'd you get so good? I think I want to hold onto you like that big, abominable snowman held onto Bugs Bunny and called him George.

You could also say this is a little depressing in that if I had actually verbalized the above thought response he would have run like the wind because, let's face it, who wants to be a superhero when they grow up.

Rick did.

Rick wanted to be Superman, and, well, he sorta is.

He quotes Yoda to me. When I call him up and tell him that I know we're supposed to be as much like water as possible and water is the strongest and most flexible substance on earth. I know, I know. Yet sometimes water becomes a tsunami and right now I'm all tsunami'd.

And he says, Shea, right now you're the sea wall and the tsunami is coming at you. Get out of the way.

And we laugh and I murmur in some type of last word, I gotta win, in sort of a whine actually But I'm like water.

And then we talk about the weather and our days and it is good. Good to talk with him. I guess in one way or another Rick and I are working on control. Finding that balance of control. Whatever compromise that is. Where does he start and I begin. I am holding onto some type of need to be me.

To get up and go to the beach alone if I want to.

To eat what I want to eat, when I want to eat.

To smoke and drink.

To take pictures.

To wake up in the middle of the night and share myself and him with the world.

To be messy.

To be slightly insane. Or slightly twisted maybe.

Not normal.

But then he's not normal either.

Or maybe none of us are. Maybe we're all quite normally special.

Happy Birthday, Rick.



Sarah Rachael said...

You know how on Facebook there is the "like" button. It's like the "go-to" button when you don't quite know how to comment on something and the only point you're trying to get across is that you "like" it.

This is me pressing the like button.

Shea Goff said...

And here's me pressing a thank you button, sweet Sarah.