it could be said that i live my life in denial. heh. i deprive and deny myself of a lot of things..
i go without a lot of material things.. but that isnt the crux of that last statement. i deny myself a relationship with my brother. i am in denial about my dad. i continue to deny myself a very promising international career. i deny myself emotional fulfillment... happiness. not sure happiness is all its cracked up to be. i laugh a lot. but its rare i laugh in a deep wholesome.. gawd that felt good.. kind of way. laughter, the best medicine, is merely a placebo.
i have a voracious appetite for life
i think my appetite is for a fix.. a fix to feeling like im worthless. today was the first time in a long time i felt like i was worthy. i am in denial that i am a good person.. in denial that i have talents..
i know in my head that its all lies.. that i have talent and i am worthy. that i am good.. that i deserve good things.. but the part of me that denies.. has a very loud and insidious voice. i could completely succumb.. but i am not my brother.
i seek to fill the void
why am i so empty.. my life is rich.. rich with denial
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
it could be said that i live my life in denial.
" it could be said that i live my life in denial. heh. i deprive and deny myself of a lot of things..
i have a voracious appetite for life"
At first glance these sentences seem to contradict themselves. Yet upon reflection I can see how they could exist inside the same person.
I find life to be emotionally and physically demanding and exhausting. Recently I had been living my life like a cloistered nun. Quiet, alone, with a rich inner life, yet besieged by chaos and demands. I retreated into myself after a series of stressful situations that seemed to have no solutions. I sat frozen in time. Missing seasons, not noting holidays. Empty appearing.
But inside I am buzzing and happy, wandering the net, curious and exploring. My horizon expands and I land on a hive of activity and gaiety. Appealing and diverting and so comfortable. A friends list? what joy. How amusing, I have 'friends' again. Not the complicated troublesome ones that worried me so in real life. These are simple superficial friends. GG. GG to you. so clean and unconnected.
Or so I thought. Turns out wrong. My voracious appetite for life has led me into delightful real connections. I can't escape from chaos and demands and stressful situations that have no obvious solutions. Nor do I want to. I don't want to live a life deprived myself of the pure joy that people are.
i have a voracious appetite for life"
At first glance these sentences seem to contradict themselves. Yet upon reflection I can see how they could exist inside the same person.
I find life to be emotionally and physically demanding and exhausting. Recently I had been living my life like a cloistered nun. Quiet, alone, with a rich inner life, yet besieged by chaos and demands. I retreated into myself after a series of stressful situations that seemed to have no solutions. I sat frozen in time. Missing seasons, not noting holidays. Empty appearing.
But inside I am buzzing and happy, wandering the net, curious and exploring. My horizon expands and I land on a hive of activity and gaiety. Appealing and diverting and so comfortable. A friends list? what joy. How amusing, I have 'friends' again. Not the complicated troublesome ones that worried me so in real life. These are simple superficial friends. GG. GG to you. so clean and unconnected.
Or so I thought. Turns out wrong. My voracious appetite for life has led me into delightful real connections. I can't escape from chaos and demands and stressful situations that have no obvious solutions. Nor do I want to. I don't want to live a life deprived myself of the pure joy that people are.
denial.. wtf
im in de nile.. up shit crick without a paddle.. <<cliche
denial.
i was never one to deny anyone much of anything. i would give the shirt off my back. yet.. when it comes to me, it could be said that i live my life in denial. heh. i deprive and deny myself of a lot of things.. but thats not the kind of denial we are talking about. this is serious stuff. life altering stuff. and right now.. i wanna deny even writing about it. i will prolly spend these 20 some odd minutes writing a bunch of fluff.. just so i dont have to look at myself.
interesting.
life altering.. in a good way. but we avoid pain at all cost. even if the end result could be.. more than likely will be.. good. my grandma apparently was full of wonderful cliches.. one being 'everything happens for a reason'.. but there are some things you have to work at. i dont know if i believe everything happens for a reason. i believe we have to try.. not let some fate work its magic. that is denial. i dont want to do the work. im lazy. but just by sitting here writing.. i am working at it. baby steps. like.. really.. a slug's slither.. but its forward momentum.
i dont know that i am in denial. <<this is denial at its best yall! i just dont want to deal. i see myself. sometimes i dont like what i see. but thats not an uncommon thing. denial.. isnt that for people who refuse to look? i look all the time. and i seethe. and i laugh. and i cry. and i feel.. its painful to look.. i dont know why. im not so different than other people.. not really different at all.
hm.
im missing something. something i havent looked at perhaps? prolly what i am in denial about.
denial.
i was never one to deny anyone much of anything. i would give the shirt off my back. yet.. when it comes to me, it could be said that i live my life in denial. heh. i deprive and deny myself of a lot of things.. but thats not the kind of denial we are talking about. this is serious stuff. life altering stuff. and right now.. i wanna deny even writing about it. i will prolly spend these 20 some odd minutes writing a bunch of fluff.. just so i dont have to look at myself.
interesting.
life altering.. in a good way. but we avoid pain at all cost. even if the end result could be.. more than likely will be.. good. my grandma apparently was full of wonderful cliches.. one being 'everything happens for a reason'.. but there are some things you have to work at. i dont know if i believe everything happens for a reason. i believe we have to try.. not let some fate work its magic. that is denial. i dont want to do the work. im lazy. but just by sitting here writing.. i am working at it. baby steps. like.. really.. a slug's slither.. but its forward momentum.
i dont know that i am in denial. <<this is denial at its best yall! i just dont want to deal. i see myself. sometimes i dont like what i see. but thats not an uncommon thing. denial.. isnt that for people who refuse to look? i look all the time. and i seethe. and i laugh. and i cry. and i feel.. its painful to look.. i dont know why. im not so different than other people.. not really different at all.
hm.
im missing something. something i havent looked at perhaps? prolly what i am in denial about.
Denial hurts
Today I took a scratch shot to allow Journal Companion to win a pool game. It is a defense mechanism that I do without considering the cost to my own self. I deny self for the greater good. Or so I say to myself. That's all bullshit or denial.
The reality is that I am afraid, deeply afraid to lose friendships if I win.
When I was little, like 8 and my mother was 25, I didn't know that she was not yet a truly mature adult. I knew that she loved to win and did win every game, any game, every time. I didn't mind, I kept playing her and trying to learn the strategies and watch her moves so I could excel. She was so smart.
One day in double Chinese checkers. I had hit upon a strategy that was brilliant. I had watched her many times maximize her attack on the board, not wasting any single shots but hopping a well built ladder across the board then bringing her men home in an orderly fashion. I decided to copy her work but I left one man behind blocking her win. Not only did I block her win, I managed to bring my men home in a devilish motion around her men, truly boxing her in.
I was one move away from victory. when she looked up at me. "If you win, I will hit you." I was taken aback. I had this game. It was a done deal. I looked at her and I thought for a minute. another minute. The clock ticked in the silent room.
I moved my man a step out instead of hopping over and I let her win. But in that moment. we both lost.
The reality is that I am afraid, deeply afraid to lose friendships if I win.
When I was little, like 8 and my mother was 25, I didn't know that she was not yet a truly mature adult. I knew that she loved to win and did win every game, any game, every time. I didn't mind, I kept playing her and trying to learn the strategies and watch her moves so I could excel. She was so smart.
One day in double Chinese checkers. I had hit upon a strategy that was brilliant. I had watched her many times maximize her attack on the board, not wasting any single shots but hopping a well built ladder across the board then bringing her men home in an orderly fashion. I decided to copy her work but I left one man behind blocking her win. Not only did I block her win, I managed to bring my men home in a devilish motion around her men, truly boxing her in.
I was one move away from victory. when she looked up at me. "If you win, I will hit you." I was taken aback. I had this game. It was a done deal. I looked at her and I thought for a minute. another minute. The clock ticked in the silent room.
I moved my man a step out instead of hopping over and I let her win. But in that moment. we both lost.
The zen of Yo
In 1962, Duncan started a promotion to make Yo-Yo's popular again. They made television commercials that blitzed Saturday morning and during Huckleberry hound hour at suppertime. Armies of Yo-Yo specialists were sent out to convert the baby boom children. They came to schools and put on shows.
And one talented tall fellow came to a small Illinois farm town of 500 and did a show in our school in the gym. He was handsome and charismatic, and sold yo yo's out of the back of his sedan. Soon all the boys and most of the girls were yo-yoing, before school, during recess, on the bus, they knocked and slept and went round the world.
oh I wanted a yo yo. I really wanted a yo yo. I asked my mom for a yo yo I talked about yo yo's I was crazy to get one. She said no. Of course she said no. I didn't really have much hope for yes.
I stole into my mother's purse and took 3 dimes. I took those dimes to the small gas station across from the school, my only mercantile outlet. They were all gone. I went to the school yard and let it be known I wanted to buy a spare yoyo . A boy sold me an older wooden blue one, not the new butterfly shaped one, for twice what the going price was. Children exclaimed I was being cheated, he was shoved a bit, but the deal held.
I was part of the faze. I had stuff like the other kids did. I had this precious thing for my very own. Sticky stringed and scuffed a bit from being walked on the floor. it had done amazing things for its previous owner.
I wind it fresh, oh so carefully and prepare for my debut. I fling it down with all my heart. It goes to the end of its tether and bops back up into my face. I fling it down. harder. It recoils and twists harder still.
I unknot the string, spread it out, rewind it and try again. and again. I try again at recess. I try again on the bus. I go home and tell a bold faced lie about being given a yo yo by a boy who didn't want it anymore.
After watching me for a while with it. my family agreed they could see why. No one to help me with it. This mystery of yo was out of my reach.
Years went on. With no one to help me I eventually learned how to ride a bike. sort of. I made myself learn to swim, sort of. Not really, but I tried. I crashed into bushes. I sank to the bottom. but as an adult I tried. and tried.
More years go on.
I get a son. a beautiful boy. He's healthy and active and he wants a yo yo one day. "I want to try it Mom."
I buy him a yo yo. I will learn this skill. He will not suffer like I did. It is the age of the internet. I google how to yo yo.
Place the string around your finger... got it.
Allow the yoyo to fall from your palm past your finger tips.
Fall? Just let it fall? Allow it to slip out?
I do this. Effortlessly. It goes to the end, hits bottom and snaps back up for my hand to catch it. Effortlessly.
I yo yo and yodel in glee.
I yo yo all over the house.
I yo yo over and over again till my son pries the precious thing from my fingers and is taught.
He yo yo's like a champ.
In the age of youtube and google, no one need suffer alone.
Just let it fall.
I was part of the faze. I had stuff like the other kids did. I had this precious thing for my very own. Sticky stringed and scuffed a bit from being walked on the floor. it had done amazing things for its previous owner.
I wind it fresh, oh so carefully and prepare for my debut. I fling it down with all my heart. It goes to the end of its tether and bops back up into my face. I fling it down. harder. It recoils and twists harder still.
I unknot the string, spread it out, rewind it and try again. and again. I try again at recess. I try again on the bus. I go home and tell a bold faced lie about being given a yo yo by a boy who didn't want it anymore.
After watching me for a while with it. my family agreed they could see why. No one to help me with it. This mystery of yo was out of my reach.
Years went on. With no one to help me I eventually learned how to ride a bike. sort of. I made myself learn to swim, sort of. Not really, but I tried. I crashed into bushes. I sank to the bottom. but as an adult I tried. and tried.
More years go on.
I get a son. a beautiful boy. He's healthy and active and he wants a yo yo one day. "I want to try it Mom."
I buy him a yo yo. I will learn this skill. He will not suffer like I did. It is the age of the internet. I google how to yo yo.
Place the string around your finger... got it.
Allow the yoyo to fall from your palm past your finger tips.
Fall? Just let it fall? Allow it to slip out?
I do this. Effortlessly. It goes to the end, hits bottom and snaps back up for my hand to catch it. Effortlessly.
I yo yo and yodel in glee.
I yo yo all over the house.
I yo yo over and over again till my son pries the precious thing from my fingers and is taught.
He yo yo's like a champ.
In the age of youtube and google, no one need suffer alone.
Just let it fall.
Dog vomit as metaphor
I stepped in it this morning, second step of the day. Cold wet, swishy, I had rolled out of bed, early with the clatter of Shaun's return to school. Had the water bed sprung a leak? I explore with my toes. I reach down in the dark and bring some to my nose. "wtf" is made for such moments. Years of parenting has made me a quick decisive efficient machine. The mess is cleaned in an instant, no more repulsive than removing a lizard from a shoe. And then there's another pile a few feet away. This one has chicken whole undigested in it. wtf?
I clean that up just as easily. carpet sanitized, I go to the hall to talk to son. "Hi, Good Morning, Your dog threw up chicken."
Don't yell at me!
I wasn't yelling.
"Dad told me to give Bonnie the chicken."
wtf? I go to ask him about this forbidden thing.
Dan is sitting on the couch, sick, defeated, overwhelmed, burdened, guilty. On his way to work while exhausted.
I decide to walk the dog myself. semi naked, I sneak out into the street to give her relief.
Family is made of Dog Vomit moments.
I clean that up just as easily. carpet sanitized, I go to the hall to talk to son. "Hi, Good Morning, Your dog threw up chicken."
Don't yell at me!
I wasn't yelling.
"Dad told me to give Bonnie the chicken."
wtf? I go to ask him about this forbidden thing.
Dan is sitting on the couch, sick, defeated, overwhelmed, burdened, guilty. On his way to work while exhausted.
I decide to walk the dog myself. semi naked, I sneak out into the street to give her relief.
Family is made of Dog Vomit moments.
gathered thoughts
ok, lemme gather my thoughts here...
(original post Wed Jun 22, 2011, 3:51 PM)
fiction or not, intriguing. i cant help but wonder if pushing boundaries is an experiment in humanity and its often tiresome but MORE often wonderful complexities. hmm.. artists often push boundaries.. looking beyond the seemingly obvious. i could write for days on that subject alone, but that isnt any new idea. i am willing to trust that what you want is just to know me. not such a stretch of the imagination. refreshing, actually. interesting that you are willing to push your own boundaries, not just others'. interesting that you are tempted to risk an amicable friendship in the pursuit of answers. looking only on the surface, one could easily assume you might not care at all about friendship or people's reactions.. adverse or otherwise.. but one who is willing to risk alienation, for lack of a better word at the moment, can only be a person who cares deeply about humankind... asking questions most people are too afraid to ask themselves, speaking unspeakable truths. as i said, this is courage.
i dunno, maybe i am crazy, but i think at the heart of this conversation lies one simple truth... people live in fear. its not so important what we fear, but that we are so willing to live with it.. accept it. WHY? your blog didnt make me not talk to you. instead it opened the door to conversation. but it wasnt the blog that made me speak, it was what you said about people not talking to you anymore. and dont think i spoke to you out of pity. i spoke because something dormant awoke inside me.
maybe i am questioning fear and its ridiculous stranglehold. i awoke. and then wrote my little piece about the deer. why? i dont really know.. maybe because to laugh is easy, but reading that entry cant have been. it certainly was painful to experience firsthand.
i did draw and scrapped it all. much to my own chagrin. why? fear.. lol im still reading and still talking... so push onward.
(original post Wed Jun 22, 2011, 3:51 PM)
fiction or not, intriguing. i cant help but wonder if pushing boundaries is an experiment in humanity and its often tiresome but MORE often wonderful complexities. hmm.. artists often push boundaries.. looking beyond the seemingly obvious. i could write for days on that subject alone, but that isnt any new idea. i am willing to trust that what you want is just to know me. not such a stretch of the imagination. refreshing, actually. interesting that you are willing to push your own boundaries, not just others'. interesting that you are tempted to risk an amicable friendship in the pursuit of answers. looking only on the surface, one could easily assume you might not care at all about friendship or people's reactions.. adverse or otherwise.. but one who is willing to risk alienation, for lack of a better word at the moment, can only be a person who cares deeply about humankind... asking questions most people are too afraid to ask themselves, speaking unspeakable truths. as i said, this is courage.
i dunno, maybe i am crazy, but i think at the heart of this conversation lies one simple truth... people live in fear. its not so important what we fear, but that we are so willing to live with it.. accept it. WHY? your blog didnt make me not talk to you. instead it opened the door to conversation. but it wasnt the blog that made me speak, it was what you said about people not talking to you anymore. and dont think i spoke to you out of pity. i spoke because something dormant awoke inside me.
maybe i am questioning fear and its ridiculous stranglehold. i awoke. and then wrote my little piece about the deer. why? i dont really know.. maybe because to laugh is easy, but reading that entry cant have been. it certainly was painful to experience firsthand.
i did draw and scrapped it all. much to my own chagrin. why? fear.. lol im still reading and still talking... so push onward.
choked up
in lieu of morbid squirrel stories..
(original post Tue Jun 21, 2011, 5:41 PM)
today, as i drove along an all too well travelled road in new jersey, i saw something that set the tone for my entire day.
i often see deer as i drive.. and, of course, many are hit and left as "roadkill". in all my years of driving,
i have never hit an animal. i swerve and break to miss squirrels and even birds. today, as i was driving,
i see a small lump in the middle of the road. and slowing down, i see a tawny coat of brown speckled with white..
a fawn.
sad as i was to see this tragedy, i looked up and who should i see pacing up and down the side of the road.. mama deer.
(original post Tue Jun 21, 2011, 5:41 PM)
today, as i drove along an all too well travelled road in new jersey, i saw something that set the tone for my entire day.
i often see deer as i drive.. and, of course, many are hit and left as "roadkill". in all my years of driving,
i have never hit an animal. i swerve and break to miss squirrels and even birds. today, as i was driving,
i see a small lump in the middle of the road. and slowing down, i see a tawny coat of brown speckled with white..
a fawn.
sad as i was to see this tragedy, i looked up and who should i see pacing up and down the side of the road.. mama deer.
of expectations..
(original post Thu Jun 23, 2011, 5:43 AM)
i have none. or at least i try not to. expectations only lead to disappointment. it takes me a while to digest things. to think. to read what is really truly being said. i try not to ever just read on the surface. though, in retrospect, maybe i am too careful.. not raw enough. in my experience, my gut instinct is almost always right, but the rational irrational mind kicks in... and well.. i am left second-guessing myself. again, fear. riddled with it. not sure why. and yet, if i continue to ask these questions, i may well figure it all out one day. and then i will die and it wont have mattered.
i read and re-read (several times) what you said, and i wanted to look beyond and move beyond the feeling of having been deeply flattered. because i realize this was not your intent, that there is so much more to what you are saying. and for the record, i am still going back and reading... to find clarity in my own response. but there has been so much said i just dont even know where to begin!
i want to point something out that i find amusing on one hand, because it is so instinctual and familiar a feeling to me and saddens me deeply on the other hand, because of the same reason. you are an expert at taking back what you have said, when what you have said has relevance and meaning. at least in the moment you have said it. and really beyond.. because i cant stop re-reading.
in chat, we have a backspace, but for the most part, what you say is just out there and
you cant take it back.. much as you may want to. and yes.. the proverbial LOL thrown in here and there, of which i am a huge culprit... yet another device to negate significance. but here, you have time to think and re-think what to write... i dunno where im going with this (and yet i do).. cobwebs.. but im trying to write off the hip and not overthink. maybe that is how i will write next time... just completely put myself out there and type. then, you may re-think, altogether, having this conversation with me. but i say, why second-guess? i say this, and yet, as i look back over my ramblings, i see myself doing the very same thing. taking back what i have said by negating my own relevance. i just happen to do it while im writing and you after having put it all out there. i guess what im trying to say here, is that you shouldn't second-guess yourself. your gut instinct is truth. and there is so much beauty in your truth. i guess i just wish that you wouldnt take back anything you have said or even re-think it. just be. if that makes any sense. and in many ways, i wish the same for myself. so, i ask... would this make us more or less authentic?
you said you hope that my grammar will never stop me from writing.. i write basically how i speak, informal yet formal... i could spend an hour going back over my grammar and correct it all, but i would much rather spend the hour going over the content of my blah blah blahging. you asked me if i want to get my ideas out before i forget them... yes! yes, yes, a thousand times yes.. and then i think, is it so important what i have to say? i cannot truly express myself in typewritten word,
because i cant possibly type as fast as i think and make clarity of it all. which makes me think about the many ways in which people express themselves. i express through music, therein lies my genius. we all have genius. some are lucky enough to find it, others, not so much. and here is where i would like to thank you. you make me think. in ways i dont usually. i dont know you, but i see genius. i see in you a person who makes a difference. makes an impact with words. and yes..
words i could read all day. you speak of sublime.. and well.. yeah, actually being given the opportunity to converse like this IS sublime. im glad you reposted... and im glad i didnt erase. not that anyone is reading this.
~ off to draw and this time i am keeping even the imperfections... maybe, juuuuuust maybe, i can eek out some genius.
Deafening
T
( original post Sat Jun 25, 2011, 2:19 PM )
i wish that you were reading me.
in all my life, i have never regarded silence as deafening or uncomfortable. i welcome it with open arms because, sometimes, there is just too much noise in this world. funny coming from a musician. i often feel noise polluted.. bombarded.. so i retreat into the solace of silence. but in the silence.. there are thoughts. the mind is never quiet. i relish the mind.
a friend asked me yesterday.. what do deaf people hear? i imagine beautiful things. birds that sing in hues of blue and green.. flowers that whisper and giggle in the breeze.. i imagine they could even hear the corners of the most lovely mouth curl up into a fleeting smile..
what does happiness sound like... or anger... or melancholy?
our silent moments are... well... you know. dont you? havent i told you every day, since the moment we first danced.. do you hear my words in your head... my laugh... my voice?
do you hear my truth..
can you hear love?
today, the silence is deafening. resounding. the same thoughts rage through my mind like a freight train. is it enough to love... to give your heart and soul to someone.. as i write this.. the sweetest sadness i have ever heard, Barber's Adagio for Strings, plays in the background. i opted to actually listen to music now, because the silence is just too much..
i wish you were reading me. if you are.. can you hear me?
W
( original post Sat Jun 25, 2011, 2:19 PM )
i wish that you were reading me.
in all my life, i have never regarded silence as deafening or uncomfortable. i welcome it with open arms because, sometimes, there is just too much noise in this world. funny coming from a musician. i often feel noise polluted.. bombarded.. so i retreat into the solace of silence. but in the silence.. there are thoughts. the mind is never quiet. i relish the mind.
a friend asked me yesterday.. what do deaf people hear? i imagine beautiful things. birds that sing in hues of blue and green.. flowers that whisper and giggle in the breeze.. i imagine they could even hear the corners of the most lovely mouth curl up into a fleeting smile..
what does happiness sound like... or anger... or melancholy?
our silent moments are... well... you know. dont you? havent i told you every day, since the moment we first danced.. do you hear my words in your head... my laugh... my voice?
do you hear my truth..
can you hear love?
today, the silence is deafening. resounding. the same thoughts rage through my mind like a freight train. is it enough to love... to give your heart and soul to someone.. as i write this.. the sweetest sadness i have ever heard, Barber's Adagio for Strings, plays in the background. i opted to actually listen to music now, because the silence is just too much..
i wish you were reading me. if you are.. can you hear me?
W
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