Blog #5--the plan to revise Long Essay 1: somewhere over the rainbow of emotions

OK.  I left you all with a cliffhanger at the end of Blog #4, but I had a good reason, and not just to leave you in suspense!  I am unable to actually write in draft form, so when I write, I just write.  I may tweak something later, but it’s rare that I ever do much changing around of my written work, unless I am directed to do so (by an instructor, for example). 

My problem is like those “medical alert” commercials, the ones for the seniors who live alone—“I've fallen and I can’t get up”—but my problem is “I’m typing my thoughts and I can’t shut up” so I just keep typing.  By the time I looked at the page count, I was way past the 5 pages Dr. Chandler wanted for the draft, so I stopped typing, and that’s where the story ended on Blog #4.

I guess you want to know what happened after I opened the door and said, "Hi," to my friend, who I've known for almost 40 years.  Basically all I got to say was the hi, and she was almost hyperventilating and spewing this, that, and the other thing about her sister, or her mother, and how she couldn't even TALK to me since I had a relationship with her sister and she didn't.  Really?  I was kind of dumbfounded and didn't say anything.  I could feel my blood pressure rise and my face felt hot and was probably turning a lovely shade of red, as it always does when I get excited, angry, or embarrassed.  I just stood there listening, holding the bag that had a beautifully done photo album in it—made by her sister—of the old photos that belonged to the one spewing all of these details at me.  She was standing just inside her door, and I was on the outside.  I started to hand her the bag, but when she started with the hyperventilating and spewing, I held onto the bag, as did she, creating a kind of tug-of-war between us until I let go.  She proceeded to pull herself and the bag inside and ultimately slammed the door in my face.  

For a moment or two I stood there, just staring at her blue front door, with the white ruffled curtains, and wondered what the hell that was all about.  Then I returned to my car, sat in it for a minute or two without starting it and still wondered what just happened.  A few moments later I started the car, backed out her driveway, and drove towards home thinking about what she said and feeling that I was confused by what it had to do with me.  For some reason, she chose to not be friends with me since I was friends with her sister.  I think her exact words were, "I can't be friends with you or talk to you because you can have a relationship with my sister and I can't."  It was Carol's choice to avoid Barbara, not mine, so my choice is to have a relationship with Barbara.  It was as if Carol was green with envy that I could still have a relationship with her Barbara, and Carol didn't want me as a friend anymore.  

When I got home I called her Barbara, just to tell her that I had delivered the photo album to Carol, but also to let her know how Carol had treated me.  Barbara apologized for having to put me through that, but I told her there was no way of knowing how she would react.  The reaction I got was, to say the least, like Carol was a lunatic, and I told Barbara not to worry about it.  Whatever was going on with Carol had nothing to do with us, and Carol would have to work it out on her own.  I also told Barbara that she and I were better off without Carol, since we didn't need that kind of negativity in our lives.  

That evening, as I still pondered the day's events, I had the thought to send Carol a note via Facebook.  I just wanted to send an apology of my own to say that I was sorry if it had upset her to see me, but I was expecting a phone call to tell me when it was convenient to drop off the photos.  Since I didn't get the chance to tell her that when I saw her, I turned to the only other method of "safe" conversation—Facebook messenger—except that when I went to create the message, I found that Carol had already unfriended me on Facebook.  I then thought I might send her a note via snail mail, but it still hasn't come to fruition and probably won't at this point.  It is what it is and I'm not about to tempt fate to get in the middle of a family squabble, no matter the consequences to me. I will miss Carol, as I have for the last several years, but I can't really erase the memories of  her, or anyone else who spent time in my life, who I love, or had once loved.  Barbara and I will just keep the photos of The Brain, The Capable, and The Mouth's good times together in our own albums and have those memories to cherish.

So, after meeting with Dr. Chandler last week, we discussed how the story ended, since she was the one anxious to know what happened after I left the cliffhanger for her to read.  Maybe I didn't tell her everything, but at least we discussed what happened next, and she offered some suggestions.  I guess I am going to do some rearranging of the story, beginning with the end of the story, and then reflecting back on how it all started, perhaps adding a few anecdotes of my shenanigans in my youth along with the struggle of being the monkey in the middle of a tug-of-war.  In this case, I’m the monkey, and the tug-of-war is between the twins.  I'll figure it all out somehow, someway…somewhere over the rainbow of emotions.