I chased my vodka with oatmeal… That’s breakfast, right?
I think most of us eventually get to a point where we’d rather be happy than right, but we’ll choose the parameters to exist in a reality that allows for both :)
It has become clear to me, that I am fighting a battle of intellect.. without ideally adequate ammunition, likely. But it is another angle on self-healing; the sorting out of ideas, my actions, and the expected gains/losses on my grasp on what it is I would like to come back to, as I struggle to conclude and ultimately close the page on the last chapter of this monumental second act in my life… I don’t know what I will do next. Research? Maybe. Training? Possible. This is sorting itself out as I begin to imagine how many acts my story will have left. My thinking, as of <now> :This is the battle of deciding what part to play in the rest of my life..
And there, the coda of rebeginnings is placed on the second act of my life; the first act as a victim, I see the second as the villain in my own story, and unfortunately, in the stories of others, clearly for the first time. This is my realization du monde… I can leave this second act cleanly, and without guilt, as long as I can sort out the greater purpose of what has transposed, drop the baggage and grief, forgive others for their parts, etc.. This is the ultimate new beginning! -I may be a little manic as well :) However, I am choosing to believe that there is a greater reason for all of this- and now, the rest.
How to do good in the world and be totally self-centered and goal-focused at the same time. This is likely only a chapter or three in length, but it is the best way I can decide on for now. I believe that each act will begin with, or in the midst of, a great conundrum, but that the nature of the material and the characters within may change at any time. I have to let go of this unhealthy sense of permanence I place on things. All types of things things, or people. Only then can I regain a sense of hope, once I have reintroduced the possibly of random chance back into the equation that I’m working to develop.
Today is the day I decide that there is nothing left in my life to consider prodigious, and I may thus be freed to reinvent what I will become. I pledge forgiveness, of those I blame for any of my circumstances. I want to completely own what happens here and henceforth, and be a miracle unto myself :)
I don’t know… It is quite the honor to have the mastermind behind Gigli free up some time in his busy schedule of combing his hair, picking his teeth, and practicing his “serious face”, just to grace us all with what will likely be the most exquisite piece of sh*t, caricaturized rendition of the most notorious superhero of all time… I’m on the fence y’all.
I just watched a really sad movie, and was suddenly aware of the equilibrium I’ve finally reached between the emptiness outside of me and the emptiness within. These times are so excruciatingly long and terrifying… I realize that there is no way out, because out and in have become the same.
Wow, I hadn’t realized that as an added bonus to following my brother and his band on this website I would be given a free space to write all the things that nobody really cares to hear anyway, but that’s what I’ve got and even storage units aren’t free. Well, neither is a mind that fills with too much emotion, and you realize that you can’t just go around telling people how you feel anymore. Evidently, this is not what adults do.
Somehow this is more appealing than actually saying things out-loud where people can mind-dance all over what you just said, as I am not actually trying to tell anyone what I’m really thinking anymore. All that comes from it is a false sense of relief, the validation that someone has actually heard what is eating you from the inside out. But they haven’t. The truth is they never have. (As a side, I recently dropped the therapist I’ve had for over 3 years. Who needs a therapist for that long, anyway? Is that really the intention? If so, fuck that.)
Freedom of feeling drives one to be selfish. How self-centered I have been my entire life - believing I had a partner in it; believing I had an existence separate and special and meaningful, that someone would really care about as much as they care about what they will be doing next weekend.. I have had many partners, and somehow they have always been the same person over and over again. Until I was sloppy, and until nobody was looking - not even me anymore - after my dad died. I saw a shining beam of light in the hell-storm war of a collapsing life.. I didn’t see that I had no more light left. I had wasted it. I didn’t even know what light was anymore, and didn’t realize that I was really seeing the opposite of light. I just didn’t care anymore. My actual judgement was as broken as my autopilot, but I guess that’s how it works. I had punished enough people for loving me; it was time to be punished, thoroughly and finally.
That was what they’ve been trying to tell me all along, all of my lovers and predators alike. I carry their ghosts, I collect them. They know how I really feel, shouldn’t that be enough? I was born for this, given the power by a twist of fate and an even more twisted lineage. That which does not make us stronger makes us more predatory. I had not seen it before. I’m so sorry, to everyone.
Now that everything is gone except this knowledge I have a choice to make, about the way I’m going to be seen by others from now on. That’s what I’ve got. But choices are hard when you are not accustomed to making any on your own, not having talked it to death with your partner first. But in the beginning, now, I do not have a partner, and I cannot assume that my partner will also be a friend. Having abused the partner system for so long I don’t even really know what a friend does anymore, but I have hope.. I hope I will not ever force a friend to make the choice to walk away from me.
But this has always been my magic feather; thinking I had another person to back up my every emotion when it’s something I never really needed. Yet thinking you need something makes not having it excruciating. And that’s where I’m at: bum-fucked square one. And as lonely and excruciating as square one may feel to me right now, I have to keep reminding myself that I’m the one who got me here. Nobody helped me do this. I also have to remember that square one is only a place to visit, not a place to live.
…Dear Abbby, with as awful as square one is, what is square two going to be like? What if I don’t like it there? —Dearest FLG, Shut the fuck up and live your damn life already. Just keep going, keep moving. You’ve wasted enough time. Yours truly.
More later… maybe :)