“- – – – – – Says:
January 23rd, 2007 at 11:37 pm e
blank stares means I have confused and angered…and that makes me giddy”
I can’t decide how this statement makes me feel. Angry? Not necessarily. No. Sad, yes probably. Not good, though. I definitely don’t feel happy about this statement. For the past two weeks I have been dealing with people who felt they were dealt a raw deal. Up until last night I was looking forward to running away and not dealing with what was dealt. I’ve changed my mind about that.
Maybe it’s the yoga. No. I know it’s the yoga because something amazing has come over me. I think it’s called Calm. I am Quitting the Caring. I have determined I don’t need statements like this one in my life. Ordinarily, I would have done some calling out, and argued it out, and out and out and out. Rehashing the ugly. Not so this time. I’m simply saying I don’t agree with it. End of story.
I left someone because I thought he was too negative for my already black-clouded space (that, and the sad fact that he couldn’t keep it in his pants). But, really. Standing just this side of suicidal I needed sunshine, not cynicism and cheating sex. He couldn’t shake his own Eeyore attitude (or Her for that matter). He couldn’t deliver anything but derogatory remarks about the world around him, so I dearly departed him. Years later I still think of him in his Florida funk and wonder if making people confused and angry would make him giddy. Probably. Evoking a negative emotion in someone to create self~happiness really doesn’t make sense to me. But, it would to him, I’m sure. Here’s the thing: I don’t want or need an explanation. I’m okay with knowing I don’t want this negativity in my life. I want to surround myself with people who love their lives, are happy with who they are. I want to be around people who won’t Box me in or Eeyore me out. Those are the someones who will protect my good. Help me protect my good. Say something good, please. It will mean the world to me in these nagging, negative times.
Today I had an appointment with troublesome, tattletaler T. We had an appointment to talk about a class he wanted me to teach. Serious stuff. Right on time he sauntered over to my desk and started in:
I hate it when people want me to define you; who you are to me..or worse, what I am to you. What difference does it make what ‘label’ I give you? Does it matter how you see me, or if you even see me at all? I have no clue how I appear in the lens of your mind’s camera. Labels change, anyway. I think you know what I mean.
I’m guilty of making a foofaraw about nothing. Well, it’s not exactly n o t h i n g, but who’s keeping score? I spent 40 minutes this morning unloading on my husband on the way into work. By the way, why do these things always happen in the car? I ranted & raved about someone less sane than me, myself & moi (imagine that).
I am way tired of the tractable. I write something, anything. You instantly think it’s about you, you, you. You always think it’s about you. Always. Why? Really, why, why, why? Is your ego just T H A T big? I can’t take it anymore. Really. I am stepping on imaginary toes. It makes me afraid to write honestly because everything is an imprecation on you…or so you think. I can spit them if you want. All day, anyday you want.
When does someone go from being All There to Losing It? What are the signs? Is there anything to be done? Alone on Saturday night I watched a biography on Marilyn Monroe. In the beginning all I felt was sadness for her, the actress. It was awful that every role she took typecast her as the dumb blond. She wanted to break out of stupid; she wanted to be taken seriously. The figures on her figure kept her just the bombshell actress. Then I felt sadness for her, the person. No one noticed her downward spiral as something cerebral; they all saw it as something celebrity. Acting up. Acting out. When she died it was an apparent “accidental” suicide. Accidental or intentional, when is suicide something to shrug off? Couldn’t anyone help her? Didn’t anyone see the signs?
I was thinking last night was going to suck. Even before I got to the 
We are blurring out senses. We are losing our grip on the details. We chew without tasting. We look without seeing. Patterns rule our lives without even trying. How many times have we been on autopilot? Haven’t we started to drive to work on a day off? I’ve been wearing two different colored contacts and no one has noticed. One honey brown and one clear. Decidedly different orbs. Definitely noticeable. I expected my office-mate to notice. We sit across from each other everyday. Definitely, she’s the type to point these things out. Nothing. After three days my boss, right in the middle of telling me something very important, stopped and apparently lost his train of thought. I thought it was my eyes. I waited for him to say something, say anything. I stared back. He’s commented on my eyeliner before. He’s called me out on less than professional sweats, Simmons across the butt. I waited for the eye comment. It didn’t come. He didn’t notice. He really did lose his train of thought.
We never really know what people think of us until there’s a fly on the wall. A coworker of mine was staying in town for the holidays. Super nerved up because his wife’s family had never met his family, he was looking for distractions, “something different”, something to do that would ease the distress. Think Country family meets City family. He was most worried about Urban brother-in-law. I suggested dinner and a show. Then, for the first time in a while, suggested a band. “They are playing right down the street from you guys. I don’t know if you would care for the music, but your wife would…maybe the taste runs in the family,” is what I said.
The third looking-for-money organization to contact me of the year is the Sierra Club. They started their spiel with, “Dear friend, I write to you today with a disturbing update.” Update? I’ve never belonged to the Sierra Club in my life. Does that make me AntiTreeHugger? Since when do I qualify for an “update”? In my packet of disturbance I was sent an info sheet on the giant sequoia, a bookmark of said sequoia, a bright yellow slip of paper announcing, “Sierra Club named America’s most effective environmental organization”, a two sided sheet of paper boasting the gifts of SC (backpack and subscription), a piece of paper announcing a battle won with a conservation-friendly Congress, two sticker calendars, an 8×14 card stock quality “sign me up form”, a two page hear-our-plea letter, and let us not forget the standard SC decal, the “act now” piece of paper and the envelope to send it all back in. Oh, and the oversized envelope this all arrived in. These people may care about the sequoia but they seem to have forgotten the trees from where their 14 pages of “update” came. Oh well.
Then it came time to chose contacts. I wear glasses in the bedroom and when I’m sick (for those of you keeping track). “You want to be noticed” Doc intones, matter-of-factually. I do? He’s nearing 70. What does he know? It’s plastic on my eyeball. I’ve always worn colors to cover what I considered freakish not to be stylish. I’ve always wanted my eyes to blend in, not stand out. Yet, here he is,showcasing Elizabeth Taylor violet. Umm…errr…that’s not what I had in mind. Not really. Hide freak (not Show off freak) is my motto.
~*LunaSea*~ 