Discopants and Haircuts

  I can’t figure it out. Sometimes I think I have writer’s block. Most of the time I feel like there is nothing to be said. Have I become Mister Blocked or Mister Siddhartha? 

Before you go on, in your head, about me saying I may be Buddha, may I explain? 

  I would never profess to be anything supreme. My problem is seeing repeated situations in my life. A lot of life feels predictable. There are struggles and pain. There are silly moments where nothing makes sense but, with a little background in social behavior, it all becomes soberingly predictable. Sigh…

 You know what really kills it? Hearing stories from others. When a friend tells me a story, I love it. I love hearing the ins and outs, the feelings expressed. I love that someone I care about is sharing an experience. I like listening to them. What hurts is hen I share a story and it is overwhelmingly much more over the top… 

I am not trying to compare or contrast others’ lives to mine. I just find myself… becoming a robot, losing feeling.