Saturday, May 10, 2014

Over The Pond

As some of you may know, many of my friends are spread out across the world. Some of them are over the pond. These creatures are both foreign and fabulous, a constant source of entertainment, and a link to a realm I've never been before. They will, hopefully, provide shelter and food if I ever decided to travel yonder, which I fully intend to do. I myself have ventured to Ireland, where I met a handful of delightful chaps and one lass. These were people I got to know off a little known writer website of which the name must not be spoken. 

Still, I walked away with some pretty awesome contacts, stellar advice, and a few friendships, if I dare say. In total, I've met twelve people off this writing website. Twelve! I was not raped or murdered on any of these visits or encounters, which just goes to show,  you can actually meet wonderful people on the internet. Maybe this place isn't as scary as everyone has made it out to be? 

Back in 2012, one of the blokes I was chatting with actually came to see me over here. He's a unique brand of awesome, this one. During his short stay in Vancouver, I showed him all the hot spots and even took him to the hole in the wall Mexican restaurant near Gateway Station. What can I say, he was special enough to allow him to feast on a chimichanga the size of his forearm.  

Anyhow, this evening, I got some news from this gent. He's sick. Not flu sick, either. He's legitimately ill. This bothers me for a couple reasons, the obvious being that he isn't feeling well and that sucks. Also, the distance is putting me on edge. So, I have this friendship with this guy who lives on the other side of the world and sheer kilometres, and the vast blue ocean, are preventing me from showing up at his house with chicken soup and a book on Ancient Greek Mythology. Hey, now, don't judge. We all have our likes and dislikes. Some of us get by with a little help from our Gods. Get it? In truth, he'd probably prefer Roman Mythology. And, if I really think about it, he's probably grateful I'm not showing up on his doorstop and demanding to make him feel better. I envision it as a Mary Poppins experience, but it'd probably turn into a Nurse Ratched endeavour. 

And I'm also irritated by the fact I'm worrying without results. This news upsets me because I care for this fine, young fellow. He's the three B's. Beauty, brains and ... wait, I can't think of a 'b' word for funny. So, I guess he's two B's and an F. Regardless, we are friends and I want everything to be okay. He won't see my worrying. It won't help any. Maybe it's even pointless. Still, it's there. The niggling nurturing ball of wanting to do something but not being able to. I just hate being ineffectual. 

Lastly, I am irked he might not know I care. That's the strange thing about internet friendships. Sometimes you don't know how important they are. I have people who I have met over the internet, who I have only met once, or some never, who I legitimately would do anything for. If they needed money, a place to stay, someone to dig a grave, I would give it to them, but do they know this? I doubt it. 

It doesn't matter that I am internet friends with this bloke. Or that he's on the other side of the world. He's my friend and I care. I think with all the banter and posts and teasing and white noise that message sometimes gets lost. 

Well, to clarify. I care and love. And worry. So, get better, you twakward, English bloke. 


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