Laughing with myself . . . I really like the first Matrix movie. I'd like to be Trinity, long and lean and fit . . . and I know I'm really the old woman sitting at her kitchen table, smoking a cigarette, nodding at all the Neo's . . . a part of me smiles at that thought and that's how I know that's true. I can still laugh whilst imaginin' myself in my current form runnin' around in all my Trinity leather . . . ah, we all have our roles.
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I was at a neighbor's house, board games were on the docket. I warned them, I play for guts, it's never a game to me. I didn't know the rules of the game they were playing, played it once and lost, won the rest . . . all of them . . . they just kept laughing with me as I apologized about my proclivity. The moral of that story is, you have to make your own winning entertaining enough for them to laugh at your victory. You have to make voracious winning your problem, if you don't you probably won't get asked back. Being a muse, following the muse rules, is not all it’s cracked up to be and it’s definitely a real job. The biggest challenge of my life is not wondering where my next dollar is coming from . . . I’m not allowed to wonder that, I’m only allowed to have faith in the knowing that if I am doing what I know I am to be doing the best that I can, I will be provided for . . . that's why the possibility of living through a winter in a moving box hut in my basement using tealights for heat didn't faze me. That’d be just another day in the life of my muse. A morning conversation: I said, “Why are you staying with someone who is destroying you?” “Because I love him.” What’s my answer to that? “Then you do not love yourself enough.” That’s not always true. “Then you have no concept of love.” That always makes me seem so arrogant I’m not heard. My answer now is, “take the word love out of your vocabulary and replace it with any other descriptive word." Any other word and she could understand where their relationship is NOW, it doesn’t matter where it started, where it will end . . . it’s a choice every single day about who you are what you want in your world. There are moments I remember all the brewhaha of working in a world where happy hour meant a $15 glass of house wine in a leather chair at a righteous bar. I felt so powerful. Laughing, that's easier to do with a gazillion dollars in your pocket. It's a little less fun when you realize one bar tab is your entire grocery budget for the month. Where do these thoughts come from? I almost wrote, "From whence these thoughts?" It's a sadness to me that nobody speaks like that anymore, and I digress . . . the thoughts are mine, obviously I had them, I wrote them AND the succinctly truthful, positively arrogant answer to that question is, "I have more thoughts than my own." That makes me laugh. It means a lot more than people think it means. If I'm having a thought, I know, somewhere, someone else is having that very same thought differently. That's how thought works. I was just sitting here thinking about cleaning everything and got a picture of rubber gloves. I think in pictures, so when that one flashes I know I actually do clean. Seeing rubber gloves works . . . now I'm thinking how easy it will be . . . that's when I actually move . . . otherwise I just go stare at the mess confused, not seeing anything, seeing everything and immobilized. This is so much better . . . I'm sitting here sweating bullets and wondering why . . . that wasn't hard to figure, I just ate a piece of pizza with enough hot pepper to curl my toes. I'm sick of being "sick" so I cooked pasta with five cloves of garlic for lunch, pizza with monstrous amounts of pepper for dinner and cayenne added to my tea. I swear I'm gonna burn it out of me. I am so not the good sick person, I'm quite the good lazy person. For as long as I can remember I have pictured myself "retired". I have no idea your actual situation, I’ve read the few words you’ve struggled to be kind enough to type. You’ve read volumes from me. I’m always like that. I can tell you exactly how, where, when you could fit into my life, I can even tell you why. Laughing . . . I usually do. People think that means I have a plan, a strategy, an outcome, nope, I have contingent realities AND not just one contingency, every contingency I can think real. I have an extremely high tolerance to pain so when something fells me, it fells all of me. I find great weakness in my being in pain. People think it's because I have Aspergers. I just have no patience. I treat my body as though it were an employee, if it lets me down too many days in a row I want to fire it. Literally. I can see myself staring at my beautiful view and swallowing Socrates' Hemlock. |
About Janet:Janet DeLong, PhD, is a philosophical writer. She'd tell you that is by default, we know it's by design. While her perceptions are not always comfortable, they are always Categories
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