Rubberband Theory

In chatting with my best friend in the world, an interesting discussion came up on the way we, as people, seem to interact with each other.

See... my theory, is kind of like... frictionless pool. Except, instead of pool balls, we're fleshy, fragile rolling things. I guess you could say balls. I've developed it a little since then, but

We all continue in a direction, unstoppable until we collide with another (meeting, dating, sex, marriage; these are all collisions). The collision leaves you in a different shape. A different person, in case you're not smart enough to follow the metaphor. Sometimes that collision is so devastating that it stops your momentum and completely changes your shape.

Connie and I have had an interesting friendship. It spans about 10 years, and there are periods of inactivity that would make a sloth look like it's on a meth. I made mention, that on our cosmic frictionless pool table, it's as if we're bound together by some elastic substance that continues to force us back together after we've gone too long in opposite directions. Though, each time we collide we're slightly different from the last time we'd met.

We've been in fairly constant contact for the last couple years, which a couple of months of black outs when the terrorists from a bad Segal sequel block communications. Usually, they return right when she says "which makes you really fucking stupid." You can see why I enjoy talking to her. In fact, she's probably the reason I married my wife. I think she said "You and her have a really good thing going and you always" *black out* "which makes you really fucking stupid. If you want to marry her, just marry her."

She's an incredible person, and I think it's admirable as hell that she can just pick up and change career directions the way she is now. She's just about to start school again on the 26th. So let's give her a good old fashioned golf clap.

This one is for you.