I've been in a fog...
No, that's a lie. I think I've been rather down and really missing things like family and close friends and small children who will hug you.
It's not really nostalgia, cuz that would mean I miss being the little kid hugging people and those are memories I'd rather not have, thanks. I am here to tell you that I hated that whole "hugging adults I don't know" thing with every ounce of my being. Absolutely HATED being touched by adults that I barely knew or was vaguely related to, especially if they were super drunk cuz they'd been hangin' with my dad and you had to kiss their beer-smelling cheeks and ugh, go away smelly man, stop touching me smelly ho-bag-dressed woman (think that "aunt" George Lopez is always describing)...yeah, I have some pretty vivid pictures in my head.
I don't hug kids if I've been drinking. Hell, I don't get near them if my Spidey-Sense (TM) tells me, "this kid does not like you, do not interact with them; wave from afar!" I'm kinda super-aware of these things in the same way I'm super unaware of most subtle happenings
that other adults are "getting" (i.e. flirting, imminent fist-fight about to happen, head-on collision approaching, etc.).
Where was I? Right. People. Around me. Missing them.
I'm part of a small group of friends who don't find it too crazy when I hug them hello or good-bye. We never speak of it, it kinda just happens and they go with the flow. I might see them three times in one week, but if I hug them, they don't mention it or roll their eyes (or at least wait until I leave the room before they talk about the weirdo I have become in my old age.) I think it's a given that this is stemming from the distance we all are from our families and/or the lack of enough people-you-trust contact.
I don't come from a "huggy" family. If my niece, nephew or younger brother ever read this, they will not believe me. Really, my mom? When I was a kid? Not much hugging. I don't know if it was me or her. If I needed to cuddle with someone, it was my teddy bear (well, actually a huge pink mal-formed basset-hound thing from my god-mother) or maybe my dad, when I was really little. All bets were off after I turned about 9 or ten-ish.
Affection is an odd thing. Carol Lay put it best in her "licked rat" comic strip, "Licker is Quicker." I wonder sometimes, a lot recently, actually, if I'd have developed a greater sense/had any ambition if I felt the "licked rat" support. Cuz, really? I don't. Have much ambition that is. I'm not out to save the world. I don't care if my name falls to obscurity when I die. I hope to leave a very tiny footprint in my wake. Most of my family can't even remember who I am or what I look like. I have no need to change this. No need to see my name in lights.
I feel really happy and proud when my friends make it! But no sense of wishing I were them.
Sorry, this is the head-space I've been n recently. This is what happens when I have too much "all by myself" time at work. I am really good at multitasking. Adding to my every growing list of superpowers: able to reconcile credit cards statements and dwell on the emptiness that I feel in my life.
But at any rate, I'm still here.