~Wolf in the Box

I spent the last couple of months trying to figure out how to get my wolf Mandala into a box which is suitable for shipping. Yes, I have indeed lost sleep over the matter. That's the thing with OCD, there's an "O" in it. It's not that I choose to obsess, it just happens. I do try not to. I talk to/with myself, train myself, reward and/or punish myself, but it's quite an uphill battle. I'm just glad I figured this one out before the Mandala ended up in the trash. I'll do that too. If the obsession gets too far out of control, I'll often solve it destructively.

So, this morning, I finally solved the problem. I took it apart, and it fit into one of the boxes I had. I am very happy about this. I think that the afternoon nap may well become a reality.

~Hooked On A Feeling

I went next door to get myself a 22oz. bottle of beer. When I walked into the bar, the last minute of "In Your Eyes" was playing on the jukebox. I felt you. My heart swelled.

Of course, at that moment, you were posting the lyrics to "I Can't Fight This Feeling" on your blog.

Was it the song, or was it you thinking of me, or was it just life making sense?

I don't know.

I don't care.

I do love you.

~31 days

If I'm honest, I'll admit that I'm completely freaking out.

Guess I was just honest.

It's good and bad stuff, hence the freaking out. The good stuff is overwhelming me on the "joy" scale. The bad is overwhelming me on the "stress" scale.

The last of my stuff has to be either packed up or gotten out of the apartment. I have to clean the place. There's laundry to do. I should go see my neighbor. I'm in OCD hell.

All I want to do is be there. I miss my Sara.

411am092204

My name is Jx. I'm a thief, a liar, a whore, a beast, and a manipulator. Just ask anyone.

~Loving

I was born with a purpose.

Life happened to me until
I grabbed the reigns.

I went West and back
I went South and back
I went further West and back

I went within
I listened
I remembered
I looked

I searched
I learned
I experienced
I fought
I was imprisoned

I played their games
I lied
I cheated
I stole
I cut
I bled

I howled.
I broke down.
I was labeled.
I was fucked.
I fucked the world.

I walked
I sat
I watched
I wrote

I followed my bread crumbs.
I followed my ravens.
I followed my heart.

I found my heartbeat.
I found what I was looking for.

I'm going home.

~Mornings

Sometimes I really suck at expressing myself. Sometimes, even though I know how I'm feeling, I don't know why I'm feeling the way I do. Sometimes, the actual problem hides behind something that isn't a problem at all, thus enabling me to feel as if I can solve the problem.

I don't fear not being able to take care of myself. There's plenty of help out there, if I can't manage alone. Do I fear not being able to take care of others? I have 35 years worth of 'not being good enough for other people' messages, from my mother to my message board. I also have that much time in under the "ungrateful" whip, the "thief" whip and the "whore" whip. Do I fear more of those messages or beatings? Not really. Been there, done that, lived to tell the tale. So, what is it that I fear? When I get insecure and attempt to OCD my life, my head and my wallet into making sense, what is it that I fear?

Just flashed back to a day in High School. I'm pretty sure it was the Winter of '84. My head was shaved, and I wore a bandana to keep it warm. Not that I spent much time in school, I basically showed up to see friends, but on this day I decided to go. I walked in and was making my way down the hall, taking off my bandana, when a girl stopped me. Michelle, the epitome of Hardcore in my book, didn't often speak to me. She didn't often speak to anyone, actually. She was the growly type. That morning though, she stopped me, and proceeded to talk about my newly shaved head. She asked, in her growly way, "What are you covering your head up for?". I laughed, and brrrrred out my reason. Reason aside, she continued and preached. Always be proud of what you do. If you have to be ashamed of it, you shouldn't be doing it at all. If you shave your head, wear it proudly. I didn't have issues with the proud part, just the cold part, but that morning, and that message, stuck in my head the rest of my life... to this day.

In my life, being and/or looking "different" has often been the case. I was in style for a while there, thanks to the whole "Grunge" thing, but generally, I don't exactly blend. Over the years, and maybe because of the whole Grunge thing, blending and/or feeling accepted has become something I actually put effort into. In truth? When I think about this fact, it makes me sick. I remember the day I stopped tucking my pants into my boots, other than for work. I caved in to a snotty hairdresser/coke head who liked paying for expensive dinners. I'm pretty sure that was in '97. The move may have got me a $100 lobster dinner, but it cost me considerably more.

It was a brand new angle to the message... If you sacrifice yourself, it will make other people happy, and they might stick around for a while. Just be who they want you to be, and they won't turn up their nose at you... right down to wearing a bandana full time.

So, here I am with the woman I combed the planet looking for. Not that I blame her for wanting to rip my bandana off, or that I think she wouldn't be justified if she shoved it in my mouth to shut me up, it's just a shift and a shock. I suppose I didn't even realize that I'd put it back on... and I didn't realize that anyone could see my bald head under it... and love it ...and want it ...and prefer it.

Here I am with the woman I combed the planet looking for, worrying that if the bandana comes off, she'll turn up her nose... worried that if she sees me, she'll leave me.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

~Still counting

In 892 hours, I'll be on my way home.

~Turn the page

This is my last day at 34. I suppose that now 35 can start freaking me the fuck out.

I don't know that my 34 years would really entertain anyone. I suppose it's all in the telling though. People have told me that I should write a book. I tell them I already have. It's true. It's just that the final draft isn't ready for submission. Aside from what is already written out, there's a virtual library in my head. All sorts of books in there. It's just a matter of pulling one from the shelf and typing it up all nice and fancy.

I used to feel that publishing books was rather egocentric. A published writer has to feel that what they have to say is important enough for everyone else to listen to. (Yes honey, I know that "they" is not correct grammar. I'm a testy writer though. I refuse to polarize gender.) Anyway, I used to feel that way. Now I'm starting to think it's just about giving people what they want. There are so many people out there bending over backwards looking for someone else to live vicariously through. Blog Stalkers. Board Lurkers. Role Players... so many people who are much more content watching life than actually living it. It's all in the name of a drama fix, I suppose.

Give the people what they want. They'll pay you for it. There's a concept. Shit on a silver platter? Perhaps, but maybe it really doesn't matter. Maybe what really matters is that it'll give you a very nice roof under which to give the most important person in the world what she wants ...and a really nice bed to give it to her in.

I'm feeling good today.

Fight with me baby, I love how we make up.

~It's September

...and I am very very happy.

aX

I'm not familiar with tears of joy. They were there, however.


You've honored me beyond the point I've thought myself worthy of being honored.


As I live, I shall live for you.

~Still counting

In 1005 hours, I'll be at the train station.

I'll be smiling BIG.

~Crawling right along

I could sit here and count up to 3,808,124 or I can actually get things done before I have to leave for the train.

1
2
3
4
5
6
...

~How not to be a loser

If someone you want, wants someone other than you, it makes you a stand-by, a second choice, a back up. Does it really make sense to want someone who could only ever see you as a booby prize? Do you think that the fact that you think so poorly of yourself is going to make you attractive to anyone other than a shrink? It's not tenacity or loyalty to "wait for" someone. If you had that person, even for a minute, and that person went elsewhere, having that person again does not mean that the person finally saw the light. It means that you're getting someone else's left overs.

I spent about 20 years playing this game with myself. I came up with every excuse and delusion in the book. Anything but let go of my ghost/saviour/surrogate mother. Anything but stop waiting... stop wanting. I couldn't find esteem enough to admit to myself that I saved myself. It was so much easier to give all the credit to someone else. That way, I could continue happily beating myself up for everyone.

If you want to end the game sooner, start looking for what you truly want and quit looking at what you thought you had. Stop waiting. It doesn't make you look noble or loyal. It makes you look like a pathetic loser.

~Another day

Still more to purge.

Keep what has meaning. Keep what you can be proud of. Keep what's real.

Always something there to remind me....

I have scars. I don't need transcripts.


The Who are playing in my head. I'm glad. The internal radio hasn't been playing much more than commercials recently. I much prefer music.

~Want

I want to capture this day
I want to capture the love in my heart
I want to capture the feeling of it

about to explode

I want to release yesterday
I want to release the pain
I want to release our fear

threatening to destroy

I want to always

love you

~The Rules

I do get lost.

It is a bit of a battle. It's difficult to stay on course.

Often, I focus more on what hurts me than I do on what helps. Often, I focus more on not killing myself or anyone else than I do on actually living. Often, I get stuck thinking and forget how to feel.

I can't blame it all on this pit I'm used to polishing. I can't even blame it all on those who pushed me into the pit or who continue to keep me in it. I'm here too. I have to take some of the blame. If I don't, I'll never get out of the pit.

See, life will continue to toss me into the pit. This I know. This I'm used to. I end up deeper and deeper every time, as if being tossed into it somehow lowers the bottom.

"...like a deep dark pit, knowing it's swallowed you up..."

I wrote that a couple of decades ago.. a line in an otherwise horrible attempt at poetry.


I'm wondering, does a warrior need an enemy in order to shine? If there is no enemy, what happens to the warrior? Does he create his own demons to do battle with, in order to feel alive?

My blade is sharp. I long to drive it through the heart of the enemy. Best I watch my step. I may lose track of the fact that I'm not my own worst enemy. There are plenty out there to slay. Must watch my step and watch my blade.

"Don't kill yourself. Don't kill anyone else." That is the law of man. The enemy can preemptively strike if they suspect those rules may soon be broken.


The law of the thief... Don't get caught.

Don't get caught, and don't give ammo to the enemy. Don't give them a reason to preemptively strike.

Don't get caught. It's every thief's research project. CSI is popular for a reason.


In truth, I don't fear death. I don't fear killing. I fear getting caught. I fear having to take the blame.

It is a good fear to have.

I'm still here.

~Sounding bored

Life feels abstract. Nothing seems real. I suppose that it makes sense. When life changes, nothing feels really familiar anymore. It's not what you're used to, so you don't recognize it. Maybe.

When I was younger, change used to excite me. Now, it's not so much that it scares me, but I think that I've stopped expecting the best. I guess that's what people mean by "jaded".

I'm supposed to see my shrink later tonight. I really don't see what the point is in going. It's been two years that I've been seeing her. It was good to have a sounding board. It was good to be able to tell my story, or part of it, to someone. Has it really helped? I really don't know.

A few months ago, I started smiling. Just the fact that my girlfriend existed caused me to smile. I still smile when I think of her. I think that's more valuable than going to a shrink.

~Yes

Welcome to September.

~grumble grumble

Sealed up the first three boxes last night. I have a couple dozen more to go, but it's tough, because a lot of it is stuff I may need in the next month or so. Seasons are changing, the whole clothing thing is tricky.

I managed to get a few things done yesterday. I'm pretty impressed with myself. I'm only a year or so out of struggling just to bathe every day. "Transition", I think you'd call it. ...the butterfly getting out of the cocoon... although I'd not call myself a butterfly.

On the other side of the country, my girlfriend is beyond stretched. Work, kids, house, bills, and this new relationship to deal with. It makes me feel pretty frustrated. There's not a whole hell of a lot I can do from here. I just tell her I love her and that it'll only be a couple of months. I don't think that helps much though. It doesn't exactly compensate for the sleep she needs and isn't getting. grumble grumble

Today, my brother is supposed to come up. Food store and, hopefully, dropping a few boxes of stuff off at the Salvation Army. Musts. The help is beyond appreciated... as is the company.

Not feeling very creative. I hate it when I struggle to write. grumble grumble

~The Ninth Month

I'm not sure that I won't be going back to bed, but I'm up, for the moment.

The movie people have been in touch with me, and I have to decide what I want to do about that. There's something about it that doesn't feel right to me. I fear that I'm putting off talking to them simply because of not wanting to say "no". I suppose I'll give it some more thought before I give them a final answer... make sure that my heart and head are in the right place about all of it.

It's September. I wanted to concentrate on certain things this month. At the top of the list is cutting back on the smoking and drinking. There are many reasons why I want to, not the least of which is that I need the money to start mailing my stuff out West. Problem is that I still have a couple more months of intense boredom and solitude to get through. I tend to smoke and drink a lot more when I'm idle. I also wanted to concentrate on the more tedious aspects of purging. The writing is waiting for me to go through, and the photographs, and the financial records.

Everything will get done. I'm just anxious. I wish that I didn't have to deal with it. I wish I were just there already. Makes me want to crawl back into bed. Time passes more quickly when you sleep, sleep disorder or no.

maybe just a nap...