Nothing Changes But Everything Feels Different

It is another Sunday evening and The Zombies are singing She’s Not There and I am thinking about how the more things change the more they stay the same.

Maybe it is accentuated because the music has moved onto Joe Cocker’s cover of She Came In Through The Bathroom Window.

Might not be The Fab Four playing and singing but the words and mood are the same.

Cocker’s dead and so are half of The Beatles but if I were to be able to speak with them I’d ask them if they were bothered by my reaction because I would think they’d want each piece to elicit a different response than mine.

I’d ask them about writing and bring up the aforementioned Zombies’ song and I am sure we’d all agree that some topics are evergreen.

You can always write about love, love lost and hope and know people will relate.

Nothing Changes But Everything Feels Different

Sat down with a certain teenage boy who is growing like a weed to talk about a few things.

Kid doesn’t quite look me in the eye yet but the rate at which he is growing makes me wonder if I have weeks or years.

His feet are finally big enough that his socks have become almost indistinguishable from mine.

But if I were to suggest to him that he and I are as similar as the Cocker cover of The Beatles song he would shake his head and give you a list of distinctions.

As his old man I’ll readily agree with some of his assessment and smile because I remember feeling the need to make my own mark too.

Some of those distinctions are only significant to a teenager but I am smart enough not to mention that…most of the time.

Occasionally his fingers find a way to press my buttons and I find myself motivated to issue my response to what is important and what is not.

When these odd moments arise I work hard to try to make sure my response is my own but sometimes I am unsuccessful and I hear another man’s words slipping out from between my lips

And every time this happens I am taken back for a moment to the days in which I stood upon the other side of the fence.

Days where I vowed to do things differently and swore that I felt myself slip I would have enough self-awareness to make some changes.

Sometimes I have done exactly as I swore I would because it made sense to listen to thirty-some year old echoes and sometimes it didn’t.

growing up

Harry Nilsson has joined the conversation and his singing about Everybody’s Talking and I am smiling at the lyrics.

I suppose I might say aspects of it have always been appropriate for me but today they resonate with me more than ever.

Maybe it is because the teenage boy who once enjoyed listening to the words grew up and recognized when to listen to others and when not to.

Everybody’s talking at me
I don’t hear a word they’re saying
Only the echoes of my mind

In the dark of night when that teenage boy and I are engaged in a test of wills I come down hard and tell him that a mature person knows when to go along and get along.

We battle back and forth and my patience is wearing thin.

I use the time tested and proven parent’s slogan and remind him he lives in my house and must abide by my rules.

Before he can counter I tell him I wouldn’t care if he was financially self sufficient because money can’t buy life experience and I watch flames light up behind his eyes.

These disagreements tend to be few and far between but that doesn’t make them less annoying and I wonder why the teenage boy I was had to be so damn stupid.

Because part of me wants to shout at my own and say “I was better” as if that would have any real relevance or meaning.

If the goal is to raise an independent thinker who becomes a capable and self sufficient member of society there is no upside to such a comment.

Hell, there is no upside in general to it.

It is just a reminder that sometimes our natural response to how people do things is to complain about their not acting or responding as we do.

That is not always logical, rational or reasonable but why should we expect any of that from people.

Nothing Changes But Everything Feels Different

There is a giant pile of things in the garage that are waiting to be packed into boxes and bags for delivery to the appropriate charity.

It is not the first time we have taken on the battle against clutter and chaos and it won’t be the last.

But this time is different because I refuse to keep dragging some things with me from place to place.

The days of saying I might use or need this have gone on long enough.

Somethings are going now because if I can’t see a use for it within a year and can’t remember the last time I did use it are reason enough to say goodbye.

Hopefully I won’t need it but if I do, well I’ll buy another or borrow one.

I am done with this nonsense.

Packing is no fun.

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