What if all this were an illusion. Some manifestation of an inability to face the harsh coldness of reality. What if I am living out some illusion of what I think is happening. That none of this real. That I am in fact, laying in some hospital somewhere recovering from a head wound. Or, that some huge shock to my system happened and I never recovered from it, but instead dived into this “life.” While in fact, I am not walking the earth at all. That others have come to me to tell me I have to snap out of it. If I don’t, I’ll be lost forever.
That is the dream I was having when I woke up this afternoon. That I am, in fact, quite insane. That if I don’t change my ways, I’m going to stay that way. Sounds like Shutter Island. It kind of freaked me out until I started writing this now. What if I’m living in the Matrix. Now, that IS crazy. I watch way too many movies. All of them sound like the beginnings of some great stories. However, they also all sound like they’ve all already been done.
Not an original thought in my head. Which is indeed a bummer but is not grounds for insanity. Just banality. I don’t know which is worse. Ordinary. Done before. Nothing special. Truly a bummer. I guess I’m not as groovy as I thought I was. Damn the luck!
It’s interesting what prolonged unemployment is doing to my brain. I never realized how important being useful and productive is to me. You would think I’d be embracing all this free time. Living for the day and being happy that none of that troublesome employer crap is being poured onto me. I should be gloriously happy each day of my freedom. I suppose I would be except for the anxiety of not knowing if I’m going to have rent money in seven days. What if something happens to me and I need medical attention.
Well, that one is already happening. But tough noogies on me for not having medical insurance. Just have to gut it out. Live with the pain and the inability to walk without paying for it with excessive pain for at least two days afterwards. Sigh! I am pretty sick of this shit. I tried not taking the muscle relaxers yesterday and did not take one last night when I went to bed. The result was, again, not being able to walk. Hahahaha! I tell you, this really sucks. I am going to just have to bite the bullet and call the acupuncture place and make the appointment.
I did apply for a 6-9 month contract assignment today. I got an email back saying that if my resume meets their specifications someone would contact me next week. So there’s something to hope for. Hahahaha! I love my life!
I think I’m rather bitter tonight. What brought that on?! I thought I had been holding my own in the face of all this adversity. But perhaps I was just pushing it aside until I could really get pissy about things. LOL!
I suppose at some point all this will turn around. I suspect that is where the notion of “not facing reality,” came from in my dream. That if I want things to be different. I’m going to have to do something different. I mean, REALLY different. Something completely outside my comfort zone.
All I can think of is going back to school. I’m not passionate enough about anything to get into grad school. I like learning but I don’t know that I want to spend a gazillion dollars on something that I’m only peripherally interested in. I like a lot of areas of study: myths & legends; social structures; anthropology & history; what makes people tick. All those things interest me.
But do I want to go to school and get answers to all those questions? Not really. I like speculating. I don’t want to be convinced one way or another about anything. I like things vague. Makes things much more interesting.
On the other hand, I am passionate about writing. But all the fear and insecurity jumps right up and says, “fuggedaboudit!” I’m not good enough. I suck. Nobody is going to read this tripe. Talk about unoriginal. Sigh!
I am pretty brutal when it comes to my writing. The problem is that I truly believe that I DO suck. Perhaps I do. It doesn’t stop me from writing. Well, actually, yes it does. Why waste my time on pushing out tripe?
This writing tonight is my attempt to break through that barrier. Okay, maybe I do suck, but it’s the only thing I truly care about. So, lighten up on yourself for a second and see if something non-tripe can be produced. I have a vicious little censor in my head about my writing. I’ll never measure up. I’ll never be good enough. It’s better to not even try. What is that John Prine song, “…a thousand young poets who failed because they tried.” I’d like to at least try.
Easier said than done. But since I’m in some kind of clearer head space right now. Willing to take the baby steps necessary to get me from this fucked up space to a more …. I don’t even know where I’m trying to get to from here. Just away from all this uncertainty and fear.
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