The last time I posted on Facebook was on the 8th August, almost two weeks ago. In that time, I've blogged almost daily, sometimes more than once a day. Yet, I have still managed to be offline more than ever, which has been surprisingly liberating. I've had more family time, but I've also had a lot more me time. I've read two books, had time to actively plan rather than just tread water (still need to put some of those plans into action, but hey, it's a start!). I've also had plenty of thinking time. Sometimes, that's not the best - I need to make a concerted effort to nudge the negative thoughts out with their positive alternatives. But, all in all, its a nice change from my usual cluttered state of mind.
I've also been made painfully aware, and grounded by this awareness, that my absence has only been noticed by a handful of people. And a very small handful at that. So, any inclination to return has been dulled even further.
I know I will still return, for reasons I've mentioned before, but I also know that I will not let it feature as prominently in my days as it has done previously.
...
The word fickle was first introduced to me by a well-meaning but blunt middle-aged American woman I met on my flight home from Chagrin Falls, Ohio, in November, 1993. I'd just spent close to 4 months there, living with relatives and going to the local high school, and the intention had been to finish school and possibly look at longer term options thereafter. I'd decided to pull the plug on it, mainly because I was desperately homesick, and the prospect of an indefinite time away was just too daunting. So here I was, on a flight back to Sydney, and I was already beginning to regret my rash decision.
I must have been visibly upset because this woman, who happened to be sat beside me, struck up a conversation - and swiftly jumped from the usual niceties to asking me if I was okay. That prompt was all I needed to pour my heart out to her. I had made such wonderful friends, I lamented. I would miss them tremendously, I ALREADY missed them. I would definitely stay in touch...
She chuckled. I'm sure she didn't mean to make light of my feelings, but, she explained,
"Americans are fickle people".
"What does that mean?", I asked.
"I can guarantee that they will not have the same sense of loss that you have, they will soon forget - its all about the here and now with them. It's sad but true, dear. Now cheer up."
So fickle meant inconstant, inconsistent, capricious. I was numb.
I didn't believe her. I didn't want to believe her, and incidentally, I really don't think it was a fair representation of American people, and certainly not of my friends.
But I'd learnt a new word.
I've since also learnt that there are plenty of fickle people in this world. A horrible trait, but a fairly common one nonetheless. It is, of course, possible to mistake someone's absence/inattentiveness (for genuine good reason) for fickleness. So best to assume the best and give seventy excuses. But when those have been exhausted, its okay to let go and accept that there are those who just aren't worth the investment. It's just the way it is. Better a few good friends than a bucket-load of fair-weathers.
See? I told you my break from FB was giving space for contemplation!
I need sleep.
I've also been made painfully aware, and grounded by this awareness, that my absence has only been noticed by a handful of people. And a very small handful at that. So, any inclination to return has been dulled even further.
I know I will still return, for reasons I've mentioned before, but I also know that I will not let it feature as prominently in my days as it has done previously.
...
The word fickle was first introduced to me by a well-meaning but blunt middle-aged American woman I met on my flight home from Chagrin Falls, Ohio, in November, 1993. I'd just spent close to 4 months there, living with relatives and going to the local high school, and the intention had been to finish school and possibly look at longer term options thereafter. I'd decided to pull the plug on it, mainly because I was desperately homesick, and the prospect of an indefinite time away was just too daunting. So here I was, on a flight back to Sydney, and I was already beginning to regret my rash decision.
I must have been visibly upset because this woman, who happened to be sat beside me, struck up a conversation - and swiftly jumped from the usual niceties to asking me if I was okay. That prompt was all I needed to pour my heart out to her. I had made such wonderful friends, I lamented. I would miss them tremendously, I ALREADY missed them. I would definitely stay in touch...
She chuckled. I'm sure she didn't mean to make light of my feelings, but, she explained,
"Americans are fickle people".
"What does that mean?", I asked.
"I can guarantee that they will not have the same sense of loss that you have, they will soon forget - its all about the here and now with them. It's sad but true, dear. Now cheer up."
So fickle meant inconstant, inconsistent, capricious. I was numb.
I didn't believe her. I didn't want to believe her, and incidentally, I really don't think it was a fair representation of American people, and certainly not of my friends.
But I'd learnt a new word.
I've since also learnt that there are plenty of fickle people in this world. A horrible trait, but a fairly common one nonetheless. It is, of course, possible to mistake someone's absence/inattentiveness (for genuine good reason) for fickleness. So best to assume the best and give seventy excuses. But when those have been exhausted, its okay to let go and accept that there are those who just aren't worth the investment. It's just the way it is. Better a few good friends than a bucket-load of fair-weathers.
See? I told you my break from FB was giving space for contemplation!
I need sleep.
