Parents are wonderful inventions, and entirely necessary. I often wonder if the old agage of becoming your own parents is true. I notice certain similarities between my father and I and DW has noted with alarm that our dress sense is getting closer. I occassionally notice some small mannerism that I immediately recognize as his. I suspect that it (the adage) is true but to varying degrees. I am not like my mother, for instance. I get along very well with Mum but we are very different. I don't know whether my similarities to Dad are significant because whenever I ask, DW just mentions the clothes thing. It is clear to me that we are very different because I don't think he has ever worn sneakers.

The things which we identify as separating us from others, making us who we believe we are, can seem quite bizarre to other people. The way they see us is only up to us in a very superficial way. We cannot always control the context in which we will be observed, nor can we control the emotional baggage of the observer. And yet we worry what other people think. Taking myself as an example, it has been drawn to my attention that I am often quiet and reserved though my blog would indicate the opposite. Hence I appear to others somewhat differently than I do to myself. People who know me well and remain sane find I am far more like the person in the blog than the wall flower at parties.

I think the reason I stand back a little from gatherings of people I either don't know or only know a little, is because I consider my personality to be a little overbearing. I am far more forthright with people I know well, because if they haven't run away yet, they probably won't. DW says I should open up more and be friendly with people, even people I don't know and may not like. Weird people. Not that she particularly mentioned weird people, it was just an inference I made. They say birds of a feather flock together but I don't feel like flocking with other weird people. I saw such a person on the tram today who was looking at me with one eye and out the window with the other. Ok, she may have been cross-eyed but that is not my point. And she didn't see the joke when I did it back. As you can see, I don't even get along with weird people.

So how do I actually make friends. It goes like this. DW meets people and likes them. She invites them over for coffee. She makes REALLY delicious food and prepares them to meet the kids. Princess is always beautiful and vibrant and entertaining and Little Man is quite the charmer, and a bit of a flirt with the ladies. Then DW introduces the dog. Then more food and perhaps a few family photos. DW also tries to cover up the stange noises coming from either the garage or the study ("I F*****G clicked 'OK'!! Where's my axe?"). Finally, I am introduced. I am usually muzzled and strapped to a gurney. I do a cool Hannibal Lecter impersonation, which is why I am muzzled and strapped to a gurney. "SFTFSTFTFSTFSFSTSFTSFTFSTFS" In terms of making new friends, I have a strike rate of about 1:1000.

Maybe I think too much. It took me nearly twenty minutes to admit that. New people are strange and bizarre and possibly from another planet. I'm not one to rule anything out too early. Even if they are not from another planet they may not have spent all their life on this one. Admittedly, if they just came clean and admitted to being from a distant galaxy, or even somewhere else in this one, I'd probably warm to them much quicker. Though maybe not Uranus. That's a cheap joke. And one I would probably make even if they did come from such an unfortunately named planet.

So maybe I'm not that different to my father after all. He does have more friends than me but he is also older. So there is still hope.

Ciao!

Thought for the day: Some days I choose chocolate and some days I choose strawberry. I like vanilla but I don't choose it.