Between the time the alarm went off and I woke up, I had this dream, that I was back at my old college, because I desperately needed to talk to my favorite college professor, and I found her, finally, after trudging through the snow all over campus in my dress shoes, and I told her that I hated my “present circumstances.”
And that I felt so paralyzed by guilt over how obnoxious it is to have “circumstances” that seem perfect for me and that a lot of folks would kill to have and over how afraid I am that I’ve topped out and that any other set of circumstances I might find myself in would be worse and I would forever live with the regret of not having stuck with the good stuff I had, when I had it, that I couldn’t see a way out. Shoot, I couldn’t even motivate myself to figure out what direction to start in to find a way out.
And so she took me to her house and chained me to her toilet and I sat in her back bathroom where everyone who came in the house kindly said hello to me as they walked by.
I woke up but had no motivation to get out of bed. Finally, when I realized that I was thinking about just staying in bed all day, I got scared and got moving.
I don’t think it takes an expert to see that I really just want someone to tell me what to do, to point me in the right direction, give me a list of things, and I’ll go down the list getting them done. That made me an excellent student. It has made me a somewhat mediocre adult.
No, I take that back. I wish it made me a mediocre adult, because then I’d have an excuse.
But here’s what I’m like. I’m like an unformed blob of chaotic energy. If you focus me, I can turn that energy towards all kinds of fun and cool stuff. But I am not structured. I need that structure to come from outside me. I need someone else to impose a framework instead of “allowing” me to build my own, because it is very hard for me to build my own. That’s not where my strength or interest lies.
But if you just put pressure on me, all I do is spread thinly across everything. And if you then get mad at me for spreading thinly across everything, it pisses me off.
Anyway, all this is kind of beside the point.
In a perfect world, I would own a spooky occult bookshop and be a tour guide, while writing my liberal feminist kick-ass newspaper column. I think I’d make a good tour guide. After all, what are we doing here every day, but me giving you a tour of what’s going on in my brain?
And y’all seem to like that.
Anyway, I feel better. I’m sorry to keep bitching about this, as I know it’s got to be boring to most of you, but it’s obvious that I’ve got to do something to change my circumstances, but that requires focusing my energy, and that requires building some structure to do it. All this complaining is a lot of foundational work towards that.
Tiny Cat Pants 