super hollow state of mind makes for painful pause and rewind
My alliterations haven’t suffered, it seems. I don’t even mean to do it, but I’m quite good at it, I think.
I will write more of the party later when I actually have photo documentation of said event…
Right now I am stuck in a music whirlpool and it’s like whiplash of emotions and I am brought back to some terrible times–the music illustrates a point where I had all of the hope in the world that I was finally coming into my own, only to get slammed back down to reality with a deafening and resounding wet thud.
It’s thick with meaning, this song on constant replay…I have been listening to it on and off all day. I woke up to it, and after I was hiding out in the mountains today, got dropped back off to reality. My little home, empty with no life. And the song makes me think of Asa, too, because I used to listen to it as I took her in the fields running, me dancing and singing to myself, twirling around in the thick grass, happier than anyone at the time. Asa, my little dog, never failed me, ever. She isn’t around anymore and it makes me the saddest to recognize that she is gone, and I am here. And I have only myself to blame for the hollow spot here.
I would go more into what happened with her, and how she died, sad and alone in a dark bathroom probably never expecting I would come back I am sure, but it’s a bit much to write about right now. I am in the wrong place in my head to do that.
This is the song www.youtube.com/watch, initially found quite by accident, reminding me of someone who betrayed my trust in a way nobody ever has, and the level of betrayal presents a certain sense of incredulous bewilderment that even I have a hard time looking at in the proper way. I was, for lack of a better word, a complete moron about reality and people’s tendencies to take advantage of the emotionally bruised, the vulnerable and perhaps hopefully ignorant souls, like me.
Kristen used to tell me she admired my ability to continue to get beat up and pick myself up off the ground, dust myself off, and always have hope. Without hope I don’t know who I would be, what the hell I would do. It’s my one positive that clears the shit out from under my shoes, makes tomorrow always a better day.
If I were to try and rationalize my life with facts, there would be no reason to have a lot of hope things would move into better directions, swiftly, except by some grand accident. I am quick to mention that who I am, my life, is not an easy sell for anyone: friend, foe or otherwise. People are uncomfortable with death and sickness, of course, I get it. I would like to pretend it wasn’t anything worth talking about either. They do seem genuinely fascinated to speak with me when the opportunity presents itself, but I feel like a weird curiosity and less like a person with that recognition.
It is a very similar thing that happens when I speak with people who could care less about anything I have to say after spending inordinate amounts of time looking me up and down, until the question is asked where I go to school. No, more appropriately is, where I went to school, since I have no interest in finishing, ever. You drop a name like Columbia and people genuinely only then seem interested in speaking with me, as if their natural initial inclination is to write me off as some tattooed moron, which I am clearly not…shame on all who judge people like that.
Somehow it is nothing more than a plastic star Sheriff’s badge, useless, and for not much besides showboating. I am going to stop telling anyone any of that, given it usually just makes me feel isolated for the fact that I had no money to finish, which is how this whole cause (selling t-shirts) came to be in the first place. I had no money to for the last semesters, and hoped that by offering a commodity (product), I might be able to dissuade you from blowing money on your next few drinks out and maybe donate to a good cause so nobody else has to throw their education in the trash bucket like I did. Right now I can say that the actual revenue stream for said site and shirts is stunted to say the least. I have $3.60 to give towards this fund–a sad testament to my own ignorance, I guess.
I know that. And maybe it was because of the discussions I had today that my mind is twisted inside itself. I am angry, annoyed and seriously want to break things. But I have nothing I would want to break, nor could I. My first inclination is to disappear, to run, (of course). It is the one thing I can do to take the power of my fate back into my own hands, clearly not recognizing that moving 2000 miles away from all I knew, everyone I knew, my life, is basically running far enough away I couldn’t flip myself inside-out any faster unless I went to a foreign country where I didn’t speak the language, period.
Can you get to a punching duffel?
Going Rocky always makes me feel better, even if I’m not hitting hard, because then all I have to do is focus on my physical reality, and try to find my equilibrium, until I get tired or feel the frustration pass out of me,,,
Afterwards, my head is clearer and the blood and dust can settle a little bit of healthy distance from the eye of the storm
If people see me and think I’m a violent person just working myself up for the hell of it that is their problem
In fact it always makes me feel peaceful, and empowered, and free of lonliness for some reason 🙂
I agree about the school name thing, I hate to say where I went, I usually just say Rhode Island
Stupid that I actually feel shame admitting I went to Brown
maybe bc I chose the school mostly for the same reason people register respect once they hear the name, bc of the shallow value system used to assess my credibility when that esteem is placed on me bc of the reputation of where I went– when in fact my years in college were the worst time for my intellectual self esteem ever, b/c of all the competition…both in school annd in the pre- and post-graduate arenas
The stereotype of the value of my particular education -though not mine specifically because I too did not complete the bachelors program- made me not care about getting a degree for a long time
the experience sucked out whatever ambition I’d had to achieve respectability through those channels.
it all seemed so baseless, other than having the paper to get access to a better job pool… arbitrarily? My jury is still half out on that
after all, the effort to get thru a BA/BS/BFA program is at the least good for the individual’s sense of accomplishment in having to go through all so much crap, paperwork, bills, patience, patience, patience, patience, focus, patience, dedication, and diligence; but on the other hand, it isnt like you can’t get equivalent experience from dedicating yourself to the pursuit of success in your life on a non-institutionalized educational path, in the quote-unquote real world.
Liking the rhyming
Sorry about ur not being with Asa
It is hard watching the passing of a loved companion too, I saw my cat go by natural causes and it was frightening, and my dog was put to sleep at my parents home…I think that was a lot worse
I felt like a criminal for being present and therefore somewhat a party to it, even though I was fighting with them and crying, I don’t think that made it easier for him
I wanted to kill my parents for not trying to keep him I could tell how much he wanted to fight
I don’t know how people can resolve themselves like that, it makes me want to scream and vomit and jump out of a fucking window
I hope he is in puppy Valhalla, sailing his three-mast puppy ship built of delicious rawhide
Oh wait Vikings didn’t have sails they rowed
Okay maybe not Valhalla then
Maybe like a puppy Caspian