Welcome to My Home, Mr Turtle

My mom walks into the house, all excited, her eyes glowing at me. I sit up and ask, "What happened?"
"We're getting a pet turtle!"
"WHAT?!"
"A pet turtle!"
It turned out that one of her friends was going to India forever and didn't have provisions to take along the turtle which she'd had for over a year.
My reaction wasn't of joy or surprise, or even shock. It was just dismay.
So later that night, the turtle showed up in a plastic box in my dad's hands. My mom stared at it in wonder and joy, and I stared at her with the hope that she wouldn't go through with this, because the sight of the little thing made me sure of one thing I'd been afraid of all my life: I would never be able to keep a pet.
Not because of the responsibility it presented or because I was some sort of a nature freak and ran away if I caught an animal so much as blinking at me in interest. No. Because the sight of the little turtle, thrashing about in an unnatural (for it anyway) plastic box, gave me the creeps.
Imagine being shut away in a glass room for the rest of your life. You're just walking around, discovering your own life, an amateur at the art of surviving your natural surroundings. And suddenly you're scooped up in a net with your fellow, um, beings, and chucked into a glass room where everything around you is so obviously fake, and others outside your transparent haven are staring at you with googoo eyes, as if you are the best thing that ever happened to them. You'd just end up wondering, er, if you like me so much, why'd you put me here?
That summed up the thoughts that ran through my head as I peered at the little thing.
The chances of keeping the turtle reduced with my sister's reaction. It was a short, high squeal, and then she ran right up to me and started sobbing about how scared she was.(Hey, she's just seven..and yes, kind of a crybaby).
So after we put the little thing in a bigger box, and I convinced my sister that it would not crawl up our blankets in the middle of the night, we went to bed.
Everyone stayed up late in bed. My sister because she still wasn't entirely convinced, me because I couldn't stand the sound of the turtle splashing about in a small plastic box, my mom because she was excited, and my dad because he was concerned about whether or not we'd be able to take care of it. That night, given my sister's unreasonable, yet helpful fear, it seemed highly unlikely that we'd keep it.
Unfortunately, as the turtle did not climb into bed with us that night, my sister got over it and decided the next morning that she found it cute. I probably should've left it creeping on her leg or something.
And so, with my sister's permission (thanks a LOT, sis) the turtle became a permanent part of our home.
We got it this weekend, and it has already been christened Jolle (which stands for something like cute or something in some language), and everyone already wishes him good night.
I don't want to get attached. I can see what 'affection' can do us. We overlook the fact that those creatures don't need to be imprisoned to know that we 'adore' them.
So now the turtle sits in its glass tank, alone, probably lonely, but with three pairs of eyes surveying practically it's every movement. I prefer to look away.
I tell you, human beings are just evil.

Too close, too far

I was just reading up one of THOSE articles - where they tell you how to maintain a collapsing friendship or relationship. And one of the key points mentioned was: Maintain a comfortable distance. Don't smother them with closeness, don't be too distant for casual conversation.

That set me thinking (as always). What is a comfortable distance? Is there a measure, some particular quantity, or some sort of formula to calculate what exactly would be comfortable between people? Not really, no.
So then, how are you supposed to know if you're smothering someone? I know I've gotten really closed to some people in a surprisingly short amount of time. Would maintaing that closeness be suffocating? I have no idea. It isn't yet....but then people work in different ways.
So where does that leave me?
With a lot of questions, that's where.
 But then, surely you'd know. You'd know when a person thinks you're much too close to them, if they think they don't have enough space. If you don't get it, surely they'll tell you.
And besides....none of my Happy friendship hills is collapsing.

Note to Self: Stop reading articles by psychologists.