BlogSpot Entry

Well, I'm feeling altogether horrible and sorry for myself. Horrible is an overstatement, but it was a quick easy word to come up with to denote this generally negative feeling I have, and I didn't have to think to much about said feeling to come up with something simple like "horrible". And, of course, the whole sorry for myself thing is basically a copout, too.


The fact is, I've been wallowing in something (again, self-pity is an easy catch-phrase, but not entirely accurate, either) for a long time now. It's even more disturbing after having had that talk with the Baron, and feeling like I could do so much better with myself. But, my house is still a mess, the laundry still isn't completely done, and I still have two bags full of clothes that I meant to give to Ru, and haven't even called her.

I suppose the most accurate (and still quick) answer is that I'm feeling disappointed in myself. Which is a horribly confusing way to feel, really. Because, to be disappointed in one's self, you have to think, on some level, that there's something more out there. You don't get disappointed with an amoeba for not being able to sexually reproduce. It simply can't. So, for me to be disappointed in myself indicates, basically by definition, that I know I can be more than I am right now. Of course, the irony of this is, that once I've reached the point of disappointment, I get all those stupid voices in my head (which Pam would call the Lower Self) that say things like "It's never going to be any better", "You're nothing", blah blah blah. All of which imply, of course, that I CAN'T be any better than I am.

Part of me knows better.

So, why don't I? Why don't I just get better, do better, become what I'm meant to be? I'm tired of using the same old worn catch phrases - low self esteem, dysfunctional childhood, whatever. Who gives a shit, really? Who doesn't have those problems? No one I know. (Which, in and of itself is pretty sad...) I'm no better than Jeff at this point. (I fully expect Glenn to smack me for that one...)

But it's the same old thing... another catch phrase. Fear of success. I'm on the edge of so many things. After that conversation with the Baron, I saw that I could be so much more, and that I SHOULD be. That it was beneath me to be anything less. But, something else came out of that, too. For a while, I felt like I was more content. Yeah, my house was filthy, and it didn't befit me, but, having seen that, it somehow didn't matter as much. Kinda like since I knew it wasn't right for it to be that way, it somehow made it OK for it to be that way. Like the acceptance of its wrongness was enough. Of course, that felt right on one level, and on another level, it felt like cheating. And, as time has gone on, and my house still hasn't reached a state that I consider clean (granted, I'm WAY picky as to what constitutes "clean"), I'm feeling more and more depressed by it. Part of it, I think, is 'cause I came to the conclusion a while back (which I think I blogged about, but can't remember) that I no longer wanted to be superwoman, and I actually wanted someone to help me clean. Well, of course, that someone turns out to be Glenn, 'cause of proximity, and him having half-ownership (well, rentership)_of the place. Maybe I'm testing him by not really working on the place. I don't mind the laundry so much if I have movies to watch while I do it, but I find I have absolutely no motivation to work on the rest of the house while I'm by myself.

Glenn's said that he's willing to help. He meant it, too. He didn't even hesitate, that I recall. Blew my fucking mind. I also had/have no idea whatsoever how to handle that. I'm still waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the catch. There's been a couple of times I've asked him to help, and he always does. In fact, the last time I asked him to help, I was the one who bowed out, 'cause I was tired, and basically rolled over and went back to sleep. He even joined me. Maybe part of me is just being stubborn. *I'm* not gonna do it, 'cause he promised to help, goddammit. Which would all be well and good and perfectly justifiable, except that he's absolutely willing to do it, and I haven't pursued it, really. So, this is all completely unfair to him to make it out to be his fault, especially when even I can see that this is all SO totally me. Funny thing is, this test isn't for him. It's for me. Maybe all the bullshit tests I put people through really aren't for them. That makes more sense, really. Tests don't prove to me that someone is bad, or lazy, or inconsiderate, or just clueless. They never have. Fact is, all they've ever "proven" to me, is that *I'm* someone that people should be bad/lazy/inconsiderate/clueless/etc. TO. That I'm completely unworthy of better treatment. And, part of me knows that's bullshit... unfortunately, not all of me has figured that out yet. Which makes the whole thing doubly unfair, because not only am I judging myself entirely too harshly, but I'm putting others in a position where I can blame them for doing it to me. And people WONDER why I have trouble getting angry at people. It all points back to me in the end. No one's fault but my own.

And even so, I know I feel the anger towards them for it. And everything I've read that rang true to me, and logic, dictates that that's not only OK, but good, and natural - and even, gods forbid, something I should express. Loudly. While hitting inanimate objects. And every time Pam sticks me in front of that stupid bed with that stupid tennis racket, I can only barely feel my own emotions, only barely acknowledge on a mental (not emotional) level that there's anger there... on rare days, I can even acknowledge that there's hate there. But those days are rare, and hardly ever go beyond me hearing a voice in my head, which sounds quite suspiciously like my own, saying "I hate him" (since it's usually Fig). And I hear it, and part of me acknowledges passively that it's my voice, that it's me saying that... but the great majority of me is kinda looking at it all with a sense of detached wonder - Is that me saying that? Surely not. *I* don't think that way.

Which leads me to something else annoying I noticed earlier today. Now, granted, I've always had this theory that emotions are a spectrum, and there's a midpoint which is no emotion whatsoever (if such a thing is even possible), and that people can only go equidistant from the center when it comes to expressing their emotions. So, if you number it such that pure "negative" emotion is -5, the no emotion point is 0, and pure "positive" emotion is +5, then someone who only allows themselves to feel, say, up to -2 on one end, will only be able to feel up to +2 on the other. You can't have full love without full hate. Of course, the opposite of love is fear, not hate, but on my spectrum, it's love and hate. Small incongruity, get over it.

Anyway, even though I have this theory, I often feel pretty damn strong positive emotions. I'm in touch with lots of beautiful things, and I certainly love Glenn crazydeep. But, I feel very little hate/anger... so, I guess I thought I was cheating my own system. But, I've figured out why I'm really not. Earlier today, I was watching Harry Potter while procrastinating taking a shower, and waiting for Glenn to get home. At the end, when they were giving out all the points, and Harry's house ended up winning, they were all jumping up and down, screaming, and the like. I realized that I could never do that. Somewhere, very early in my childhood, I'd been taught that one couldn't be too proud, or too smug, or just plain too happy. And I carry that with me to this day. If I won the lottery, it would feel more like a dream to me until I had money in hand, and even then, I'd be less rejoicing than I would be filled with a quiet sense of wonder, and a lot of guilt for it happening to me, and wondering who to thank for such good (and surely undeserved) fortune. I wouldn't be jumping up and down screaming, like any sane person would be doing. No, I consider that insane, or, to use a word of my mother's that I despise, uncouth. And THAT'S the insane thing, really.

I remember after Glenn had had his revelation, where he hated everyone (see earlier blog for clarification), he said that when he sees things now, he sees EVERYTHING... the good, the bad, the ugly of everything. Whereas before, he could only see a limited interpretation of it, because he wasn't allowing himself to see the anger and the hate and what have you. This makes a lot of sense to me, really. I wonder how that would apply to me.

It also makes me wonder... just how much more joyful can I be? There are times when I'm filled with such joy that I weep, filled with such awe for the sheer beauty in the world. There are times I do that out of sheer sadness, too, but much more often for the former. I can cry for sadness now, which is something I couldn't do as a child, so that's something, at least. But I know that I'm still being limited, limiting myself. But if I can be that moved, and still only be at, say, -2.5/+2.5, I can't imagine feeling more joy, more love. Love Glenn more than I already do? Logically, it must be so. But I simply can't comprehend those emotions getting any better. I must be missing out on something good.

I've reached a good stopping point, really, but there were more things I wanted to say when I started this. Mostly about the stuff I've been putting off. It's more than the house. My list of sins grows longer. And I don't even believe in sin. Although if I did, I think I'd have to go with Rob's vision of it in ...dear God... I can't remember the name... that troubles me greatly... dammit.... what was it CALLED????? I can picture it, picture the words, quote whole passages in my head... Lyssa's heels ringing like gunshots... Lucifer forlorn... Bastion in leather... godDAMMIT what was the name... short title... single word, I think... fuckfuckfuckfuck... have I lost that, too????

Demon. Mikey just told me. I knew it had something to do with hell....

It really bothers me a LOT that I forgot...

Anyway... the point I was trying to get at. Sin... Despair is the only sin, according to Demon. Actually, I don't think that it ended up in the final draft, but it was in the earlier ones, and in his notes. Anyway, I think that's probably pretty close to the truth... probably about the only definition of sin I'd accept. Anyway... now that I'm calmer, where was I?

Oh, yeah... list of "sins"...

Well, mainly, the other sins I'm berating myself for at this point, is the stuff I'm supposed to be doing for Sarsen. Of course, the way I put that is telling in and of itself. I shouldn't be doing it for anyone other than me, but I'm more concerned about letting her down than I am about stunting my own growth. After the first few days, which I've already blogged about, I did it once more... I remember something interesting happened, but I can no longer remember what it was. After that, I did sporadic quickie groundings, that I'm not even 100% sure "took". And, the cleansing baths, for which I bought these kickass bath salts, and which sound wonderful, and like a good thing to do... I don't even do those. Why, you ask? Because my house isn't clean. I refuse to "reward" myself with that sort of thing, when my house is a pigsty, and I know I have other things that need doing. Of course, as we can all see in the first few paragraphs of this whole ridiculous self-disparaging rant, I'm not doing a damn thing to make the house any better. So, this just adds insult to injury. That's not even counting the fact that I don't take baths, I take showers, and I won't even soak in the tub unless it's been freshly cleaned out, and I've just taken a shower. Which means that I have to take a shower, so I don't feel icky soaking in the tub when I'm dirty, and since hot water is a commodity, I have to sit around for an hour while the hot water replenishes itself, and THEN run a bath, and crawl in and all that. Of course, I prefer to be alone when all this happens, so I feel like I need at least 3 hours of alone time for all this to even happen. This is assuming the house is clean and everything else is otherwise perfect to begin with. So, I probably do have all this energy buildup that I need to get rid of, and I'm not doing the bath thing, so I'm sure it's all stagnating. So, I feel more and more guilty about the whole thing, which makes me less and less willing to deal with it, or fix it. Which, of course, just makes for this whole vicious cycle of general feeling like shit.

The other sins I'm dealing with is my weight, which is more like my food choices and such. I think I wanna do all these cool things, like raw/living foods and such, but I'm thwarted by the cost of the classes, and dubious about getting the book. Or, more accurately, dubious about doing anything with the book if I did get it. Also, I think I probably want to be a vegetarian. Problem is, I really LOVE meat. Tie this also into the fact that I'm seriously wondering if I could do a life ebo, and seriously considering it, if Osun Femie would ever get back with me. I truly think if I did that, I'd end up being a vegetarian. Then, of course, I end up wondering how that would go over. I mean, yeah, Glenn would be supportive, 'cause he's just that kinda freak, but we'd both still have to deal with the whole cooking two different meals thing, 'cause he's not about to do that... nor should he, if he doesn't want to. Not to mention that it's a lot harder to do the fast food thing, so I'd either have to bite the bullet and learn to force myself to cook when I'd rather have someone do it for me, or I'd have to become much wealthier than I am right now, so I could eat at R. Thomas 24/7, or I could hire a cook to make healthy shit for me.

Finances are another issue, of course, and all this bullshit at work isn't helping. There's a huge chance that we won't get a bonus check this month, and there's also a fairly big chance that I won't get the Christmas bonus even if I do sign the bogus fucking contracts and stay. And I'm just now starting to pay for things on my own, and not have my father do it.

Small wonder, though, really, that work is the least of my problems. I'm either focussing on the other stuff so much I don't care, or I just block it out 'cause I already have enough despair on my plate. I've barely thought about the NaNoWriMo thing, and I think I'm only at like 3000 words. I'm enjoying the fuck out of Sarsen's, but I haven't done shit with mine. Of course, the fact that mine was autobiographical, even in third person, certainly hasn't helped. I'm sure it would be good for me, and therapeutic, to continue working on it. Which, obviously, is why I'm not. That, and the whole reached my limit of despair thing.

This whole thing is affecting me, quite predictably, in the sexual arena. I've been getting pushier with it, even suggesting to Glenn that I wanted to go poly, like now. I don't even know if that's what I want. I think I just want people to want me, and right now, I'm not feeling particularly wantable. I find myself wanting Glenn constantly, but I'm so on edge that he's going to reject me, that even the slightest hint from him that he's not interested sends me on a downward spiral of feeling horrible, ugly, pushy, and altogether unloved. All of which is ridiculous, and I should know better. Hell, I've even gotten lucky the past two days, but with much difficulty on my part. I find myself holding back, not giving all of myself, expecting to get the rug pulled out from underneath me any minute now. I can barely enjoy it. I mean, I get off, and it's good, and he gets off, and he likes it... but I find myself wanting to rush it, terrified that he'll suddenly lose interest, or get tired, or something. And I keep telling myself that if I were more attractive, more lovable, more anything, that he'd never be too tired, never lose interest... I don't even know if that's true. And, of course, it unfairly puts the burden of all that on me, where it doesn't really need to be. But I'm sure that all that is coming across somehow. And I haven't the foggiest idea what to do about it.

And I'm sitting here at work, which is public enough that I think there's a certain modicum of behavior involved that precludes me from showing how fucking frustrated I'm feeling right now, and I can feel part of me, buried deep, that's absolutely RAGING, and I can feel myself fighting it, and worse, I can feel how almost effortless the fight is. Stupid rage never had a chance.