Normal

Well, I see the last one did not go well. Let me tell u about me. I was born a white politicians daughter in Rhodesia in 73. Wow, not great times. Its too bad though. People don't get it. Normal is what you grow up with every day. So for Canadians, normal is hockey on Saturday night (even now without the theme song). For Americans it is baseball and basketball. For each nation at each point in the split second of time, normal is different. My normal in the late70's was different from normal to a Rhodesian in the 60's. Anyway, blah blah. It is so sad that now, years later, my normal where I am is still looking over my shoulder, wondering, suspecting and not trusting. For me it will always be that and thank God there is a blog space I can write that. My friend, my age, from the place I live now, never lock cars, look down a street thrice before they cross or look at people more than a glance. What a great existence. I wish I could do that. Not wonder or think beyond the immediate. Must be nice. The worst is the dreams and not having anyone around me able to understand if I dared to tell them. I now understand the difference between sympathy and empathy. What similar words, what vast difference in definition. I don't want sympathy. People that break an arm get that. I don't even want empathy. I just don't want to be on the outside looking in anymore. Being an observer is highly overrated.