here in status symbol land...
whenever I hear ritchie valens on the oldies station, I immediately think about the guy who played him in that "la bamba" movie. same goes for val kilmer playing jim morrison, and the guy who portrayed manson in "helter skelter". which, by the way, is an excellent documentary about the whole ordeal - highly recommended. I guarantee your local video store, if they have it, has it in stock.
so, anyways. point being, I wonder how many things my brain does that with that I don't know about. like what things are, to me, the idea of what they are, or the image of what I think they are, instead of what they actually are. I suppose ignorance is bliss, but I can't say it doesn't concern me a little bit.
I've got to tell you all that I'm sorry for all the bitching, but there's just shit rattling around in my head that I just can't seem to shake. like the universe is breaking my balls about something, relentlessly, only I've got to figure out what it is and what needs to change. and the only clue I'm allowed to have is the after-effect of excessive ballbreaking... I'm annoyed and wondering if there's any truth in what's being said, all the while knowing I need to toughen up and not Take Things So Personally, and the like.
is this making any sense? to be quite frank I don't give a shit if it does, because it's more about me getting it out than you wanting to read it, but still. I can't help but look for that affirmation, even if it's just between me and the imaginary reader.
so let's break this down for a bit. there are things going on, that I'm responsible for, that are bothering me because I'm either not doing them or not paying attention to them. I'm sleeping late, I've been skipping the gym, and I don't want to do my job. I mean, I want to do my job, but I don't want to do what my job entails when it gets slow like this - like putting on a suit and going out to shake hands and kiss babies and stuff. it makes me want to gag. it's been like that for a while, except I don't notice when it's busier. I get to skate by with a good paycheck and days at the beach in the summertime. I don't have to look at everything I'm not doing to further who I am. and now, with all this time on my hands, it all comes to the surface. there's no monica-style obsessive busy time to keep me from looking at my life.
hi, life. hi, accurate photo of How Things Really Are. you're annoying, but somehow I know you're necessary. therefore I simultaneously love and loathe you.
so I'm not going to get into quite what to do about that yet. it's more about getting a snapshot at this point in the monologue. I think.
category number two is Persistent Things Under The Surface That I Should Know How To Deal WIth By Now. my father's death, my mother's sickness, turning thirty and having to have some sort of accomplishment to show for it, all the stuff about perspectives that I already wrote about. cat lady stuff, the crap that's just not real, but still present. the job. a new relationship. getting rid of the crap in my apartment that I don't need. fear. love. spiders. and again, like it always happens at this point in the emotional vomiting: I know that These Things Really Are Okay. I'm going to be thirty, and have my sixth sober anniversary just before, and I am such an evolved version of Who I Really Am - it's completely unreal. the shift in perspective, the complete disregard for what other people think of who I am and what I should be and what I should like that I always defaulted to, and even carried into my first few years of sobriety. the facts: that I got into a relationship that I had no business being in, and left. I had a bunch of crap and a bunch of money and I still wanted to get drunk and high. I didn't write. I didn't deal. it was a giant game of pretend that I was playing with myself because I didn't know how to get to that painful level of self-honesty and self-awareness that we need if we're really going to get anywhere. more facts: that's it's okay to hurt, endlessly even, over not having my father in my life. it's okay to be afraid that my mom isn't going to be okay, and to hate what the chemo is doing to her, and to want to fix her whole life. I have smoking dreams about her like I have drinking and pot dreams about myself. I am not, nor will I ever be, the cat lady. and if I do, it will be because I'm running a shelter or something.
and the rest? I'll go to the gym when I get sick of feeling like a fat chick. I'll change my job when I don't want to feel the way I feel anymore, or I'll do what I've talked about for so long: use the flexibility and financial advantages of my job to give me the room for classes, travel, whatever I can afford. so now that I feel silly for getting so jammed up about all that - what else... oh, the new relationship. right. character defect central. let's get into that one for a little bit, so I can get it the hell out of my head.
I am hands-down dating the best looking guy I've ever dated. it's intimidating. and it doesn't stop there. I joke about it and call him Captain Testosterone, but in reality I love it that he's a total alpha male. beyond door opening and grocery carrying, it's the good side of all things that the feminist in me screams that I can do for myself. and to have a guy like that in my life, who puts it all down and communicates with me and sees something in me that I can't even always see in myself - it's totally terrifying. I wish I could be the me that he sees in my mind, where I'm too busy getting tangled up with everything I'm not. he's going to keep staying sober and his life will keep getting better and I won't be good enough. I don't know how to dance. I'm not hot enough, if I don't lose weight he's going to leave. I'm too independent, I can't let him help me, I don't think before I speak, he's going to find all my old notebooks and read them and hate me or think I'm certifiable. I don't know how to cook like a girl should cook for a man like him. I have a lot of baggage, et cetera...
or as the song puts it so perfectly: when they really get to know you, they will run. hairy legs and all.
now, this guy has not once, ever, done one single thing to make me feel or think any of this. he's sweet and wonderful and caring and - I mean, seriously, even with everything starting the way it did - who hooks up and spends the next morning talking it out and making sure that everything is okay with the other person? personally I prefer getting in my car, going home, and never talking about it again to dying from embarassment - but that's just me. and after friendshp repairs and heart-to-hearts, he's turned out to be wonderful. passionate and caring and careful and kind. he gives me room to flail around and doesn't think I'm out of my mind. he's even said, with not one shred of provocation, that I could never go to the gym, ever, and he would love my body exactly the way it is. he ate my pork chops and liked them, or at least pretended to. he bought me funny socks for christmas and he listens, unless food or football gets involved and then I have to wait for him to be done. but, he's a guy. that's cool. and, on top of all of it, we're so gentle with each other, being clear about what we mean when we talk and not saying hurtful things and literally giving each other our last twenty dollars if the other person needs it. it's never been like this before. I've never been here before.
so how could I possibly know how to be and how to feel? it's just got to take it's course, like everything else. I tell new girls at meetings the same thing. I usually say something like, look - do you know how to (fill in the blank - golf, make airplanes, etc.)? well, what makes you expect to know how to do all this, and be comfortable with it and yourself, overnight? eight days is not a long time to do something. four months is not a long time to do something. years and years will make you understand, and then eventually become better at something. so why am I putting all of this weight on myself, that I should know better, that I should be better, that I shouldn't say or do or this or that - if I talked to someone who was treating themselves the way I was treating myself, I'd tell them to go easy and get a massage and that everything is right where it's supposed to be. and that her intuitions will know. and when I break it down to that point, I do know. I'm happy. things are as they should be, totally and completely. not just with raf, but with everything.
wow. twenty minutes of writing sure does change things, doesn't it?
do what you love.
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~vvb
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