Sometimes I think I put a little too much pressure on myself.
Pressure to break the cycle.
Pressure to be nothing like my mother.
Nothing like my grandmother.
They're not role models.
They didn't even try.
My sisters and nieces and nephews certainly have a lot to be proud of,
But, that's different, that gets competitive.
And if I turn out a loser like our mother, it kind of brings the whole team down.
It's all on me.
It's my turn.
Not really. I'm in my own little Chicago cocoon. I don't have to report back.
But, I kind of want to. Eventually. I want to stumble in with the rotting Buffalo carcass draped over my bare back. I want to show them my kill. I want my kill to be the deadest, most biggest, bestest kill ever.
Isn't that ridiculous?
Doesn't this all sound just a touch angry?
Just tell me. I can take it. I've been on edge. My rage has been on my edges, my sweetness has been a tad folded over if you know what I mean. Well, grandma was sweet. So sweet she wasn't anything other than sweet. And still. And good. I don't even know what she loved, what she obsessed over, what stirred her up? What woke her up? What did she read besides the bible? What did she listen to except her husband on the keyboard? Who is/was she? Anything? Any failures? Tell me? Too late. She's gone. Left nothing. A recipe for potato salad and some antique dolls.
It was a different time. There's no need to be nasty. If she was born today, in this city, with these people.
Life raft says I should just focus on one thing. My problem is I let too many things fester in on me at once. I have an uncanny ability to go from-- wow that cable bill sure does goes up-- to wow my family is embarrassed of my life, and I'm a terrible artist chasing a rabbit down a jobless, childless, lifeless hole.
He says first of all, this is your family. This four. Life Raft, Toasty, Chi--Chi, and Meow-Meow. And do you remember when your mother picked your old kitty up by the tail and threw him out the window? Yes. Of course. And would you ever even think of doing anything like that? Nope. Never. See? That's one thing you're doing different. That's enough for tonight. I promise you are not your mother.
I should marry him.
You know, I've had a hard time admitting to the world how difficult it is adjusting to post Neo--Futurist life. And you'd think I'd feel fortunate and lucky to have my life raft still carrying the torch. And I do, cerebrally. But, it also stings. Digs. Triggers my jealous streak. Where does that come from? Only child syndrome? Niece with a large rack syndrome? Past life regression? I've always had an ugly jealous rage. (My niece is seven months older than me, we sort of grew up "together.")
My last run, my last show, was amazing. But, the last seven months were not. We're coming up on the one year anniversary of the incident. And I can feel it living in me. I've been meaning to tell you about it. Rationally. Objectively. Detailed. Wise. Reflective. To bed. Perspective.
But, you know those work related incidents between you and the bad guy? Those situations where of course this is happening, this guy is like this, he's in a position of power, he always treats me like this, like I am a child? I can brush this off. I can go home and kiss my family. And then eleven months later you're still talking to him in the shower. Screaming and crying into the foggy windows all the things you should have said.
I really need to let it go.
But, the incident dominoed a whole series of events that changed the company forever. For good, yes. But, for exhausted deep still healing wounds.
And then there's the blog. The little girl. That family. That room full of those people. Sadly that's the root. They are the root. Those humans. That's a shame. I would so be over that stupid blog had the incident not occurred.
But, you do understand that those crazy things I say are not literal. They're very long extended twisted metaphors that I am proud of. And I know what I'm doing. And
I have to let it go.
But, you know there's a lot to work with there. It's a story. I'm going to try to tell it in a calm sort of both sides Anne Lamott way. As soon as I'm up for it.
I have a few theory papers to write this week.
You know, speaking of blogs. A talented woman I used to work with just started a blog. You should check it out. She recently experienced a series of life turned up side down kinds of things, and so she's writing about it with humor, sass, and heart. She's a single mom in Evanston, two kids. But, even if you're a newlywed in Ravenswood with cats, you can still relate and enjoy. Cause its a strong woman writing.