Some People are Dicks and I Don’t Care

None of us experience any moment in the exact same way as anyone else. Every experience we have is influenced by our own perceptions and biases, our own desires and taboos. Two strangers standing in The Louvre, staring at the Mona Lisa, will both walk away with entirely different impressions. One might be deeply moved, and the other might just wonder where the nearest hot-dog stand is. For this reason, it’s best not to make assumptions. The way we judge others is less to do with what is actually happening in the other persons life, and more to do with how our own experiences are colouring our perception.

This month, I’ve had someone judge me harshly based on his own hang-ups, and bad life experiences or decisions. This person doesn’t know me. He has made assumptions about me built on the foundations of minimal- and mis- information. Once upon a time, I would have been furiously hurt. I would have raged and cried and obsessed. But now, I’m surprised at how little I care. I don’t claim to not care at all, it’s not nice to hear rumours and judgments being passed around about you, but my feelings are not hurt. Because I’m an analytical creature when it comes to human emotions and reactions, I was curious about my own reaction to this piece of unnecessary nastiness. Why didn’t it bother me much?

I came to the conclusion that it didn’t bother me for a couple of reasons. First being that I’m not ashamed of the part of his vile vocal vomit that had truth in it. And there is truth in it, I don’t deny it, but the fact is that it’s got nothing to do with him, so whether it is fact or fiction, is irrelevant. If it’s nothing to be ashamed of, then why feel bad about it? The second reason is, he’s nothing. This person believes himself to be on the moral high ground, but I fail to understand why, given the way he lives his life. But that’s his business, not mine. He’s a person that I don’t deal with in my world, that I see in passing once or twice a week. He has no standing in my life, so why let him have standing in my head?

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“Bro, I’m so fucking Zen right now.”         “Me too, Gary, me too.”

Not long after this interesting little episode, I found out about a betrayal I’d suffered at the hands of someone I once considered to be a friend. This was no small thing. This was a big betrayal that impacted my my health, my mental wellbeing and my ability to provide for my family. This friend continued to pretend to support me through this time, knowing full well, that she had orchestrated the whole thing. I found out a month after the incident. Again I was surprised at my lack of anger. There was some anger, but nothing like what I would have expected. It was simply a matter of “what’s done is done, I can’t undo it,” and the knowledge that this person will never again be a part of my life. The psychological state of the person in question is clearly askew, which I also find a little fascinating. Particularly after discovering that these motive-less manipulations and sabotages are a common theme in her relationships. We’re all damaged in our own ways.

Those that have known me for a long time, will understand why this personality change is so confounding to me. I’ve gone from being an aggressor to a pacifist in such a big way that I’m almost a different person. But a happier person who is at peace with herself.

So long story short, you can’t fuck with me cuz I have inner peace, bitches! Booyah!

 

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The End of a (very short) Era

Life is a series of moments, snippets of time, most of which will be forgotten. A special few of these snippets will be preserved as memories, which also fade then disappear when we fade and disappear. Life is fleeting, but that is what makes it special. One of my favourite song lyrics is a strangely romantic one from Avenged Sevenfold’s Acid Rain “Life wouldn’t be so precious dear, if there never was an end”. Rather poignant for men with ridiculous names like M. Shadows, Zacky Vengeance, Synyster Gates, and Johnny Christ.

Those moments, both happy and sad, are what makes us who we are. This is why I embrace my depression. It built me. It made me strong. Very few of my positive moments of change involved other people. But in the last few months I’ve been lucky enough to have been changed by someone, for the better. Someone who reminded me what if felt like to have self-worth. Someone who pulled me out of a cycle of self-loathing and disgust. Someone who made me feel beautiful for the first time, even if it only lasted while I was in his presence.

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Flower to seed, end to new beginnings. Viva la Jenny!

 

But that moment is over now, and I know I’ll cycle backward a little, that’s inevitable, but five steps forward, and two steps back, is still progress. Sexy Hands isn’t gone from my life, but the context has changed. That’s what we as humans do, we’re constantly changing and evolving, relationships change and morph. He is searching for his happiness and I hope he finds it, he was never going to find it with me and I know that. I don’t like it, but I know it.

For selfish reasons I would have been happy to keep him locked in my wardrobe in a state of suspended animation, waking him up whenever I wanted cuddles or sex or a friend. But I don’t think his family would have approved of such an arrangement, and it would have had a drastically negative impact on his income. I adore him, he’s a wonderful person and a good friend, but I don’t delude myself, what I loved the way he made me feel about myself.  I’ll miss him terribly. I know I’ll see him again, but it won’t be the same. He’s the person I pine for when I’ve had a bad day.

I want to curl up in somebody’s arms and vent my soul but he’s the only person that I know that I feel comfortable enough with to do that with; lack of close human friendship is an unfortunate side effect of social phobia. But that is no longer an option. And so I write. And I will be okay, because I’m always okay. And the world keeps on turning. And I’ll remember what was and it will be bittersweet, but it wouldn’t have been so precious if there never was an end.

Random Birthday Thoughts

Thirty one. I’m feeling older than thirty one. I feel heavy, achy and tired. Perhaps this is just what life feels like. But if this is normal, wouldn’t we stop being aware of it? Surely you’d just adjust and begin to think you felt fine. Kind of like how if you visit Rotorua, it smells like old eggs and cabbage, but if you live there you don’t notice it. I’d really like a day where I wasn’t struggling to stay awake.

I think I felt good once a while back, but now I can’t be sure. It’s most likely the pill making me feel this way, but I’m reluctant to stop taking it because last time I did that there was acne eruptions of biblical proportions which has left me hideously disfigured. Plus, I’d rather rip my own uterus out than risk pregnancy again. I wonder if a doctor would agree to sterilise me at my age? I think that’s covered by my health insurance. I wonder if Ex is still paying my health insurance?

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Doctor, are you sure you’ve done this before?

 

It might not be the pill of course. My immune system is pretty fucked up at the best of times. I’m constantly on the verge of colds and flus. I am going to have to put more effort into eating high nutrient foods and less empty calories.

I really need to get to a healthier weight. I’m sure I’d feel better then. I’m just worried that I won’t feel mentally okay if I lose weight. I look pretty awful as I am, but if I lose weight, I’m going to look like a empty flesh-bag. Perhaps I could get a job at Spookers as “Medical Waste Girl”. A Dr. Frankenstein type monster, stitched together from the leavings of the tummy tucks and upper-arm lifts of wealthy women. A wailing mess of quivering, hanging, wrinkled skin. I wouldn’t have to worry about pregnancy though, I’d be a walking, talking contraceptive. Hmm, career goals. Maybe I should write a proposal for Spookers…

I May Have Had Too Much Sun

I’m going to level with you. I’m naked. It’s not a pretty sight, but no one is around to see it so I don’t care. Except for the cats, Krankenstein and Stalin, but they’re always judging me anyway so what’s one more thing to shock their snobbish sensibilities? It’s too freaking hot to pretend to be a normal, decent, modest member of society.

Today I didn’t relax in the Inferno, I worked in it. It was my first day back in the new year and the going wasn’t easy.  The sun was searing and there was no shade to hide in. I think we all nearly succumbed to heat stroke. Thankfully, at the final job of the day was a hose and an impromptu wet t-shirt contest commenced. The water evaporated in minutes but it was somewhat reviving and got us through to the end of the day. I thought I was more revived than I truly was and decided that I may as well do the Ex’s gardening that I’d been kind of promising to do. However after sitting down it soon became apparent that I was not in any shape to do any more gardening.

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This seemed appropriate…

 

So now I’ve had a shower and washed the days dust from my hair and out of my ears and it’s just too hot to get dressed again. I’ve already gotten dressed today, I don’t feel that I should have to do it twice. I’m lounging around looking at the dust that needs dusting and the laundry that needs folding and I’m just too tired. Above me I can see a dust bunny floating peacefully from a strand of spider silk.

Who am I to disrupt it?  There are possibly dust mites on that dust bunny who are enjoying their gentle swaying through space. What if there is a tiny city on that dust bunny? Horton heard a Who and discovered a city on one tiny speck of dust, so imagine how many cities there could be on a clump of specks of dust. If each dust speck contains a city of Who’s, then is a dust bunny really a kind of Who planet? If I destroy it, what will become of them? I couldn’t possibly do that. To destroy an entire planet populated with sentient life; what a monster I would be! That settles it. I’m leaving it there. I’ll leave the laundry too because Krankenstein is sleeping on it and I don’t wish to anger her.