Damn what a day
You know every day passes and my heart is stricken with anxiety over my impending doom, but the crazy thing, is my doom is my resurection, redemption and survival. Like God's light shining from heaven above, the hopes that smart me are the same that promise me a way out of the foggy world in which I live. The fog of seclusion and and the crawling parasite of poverty.
All I want to do today is to go see a friend and I can't. I hate can't - can't is the worst word I know. It isn't entirely true...I could have bought a train ticket spent a couple hours or so getting down there and then cajoled my husband into bringing me home after his class because the train doesn't run back that late. But it would have eaten half my day and a little chunk of pocket change. Or I could've rented a car, which would have meant more money than I can justify spending right now. On the same note, I don't need a car to do my laundry either. I can just put it in a bag on my back and walk with it the 4 blocks to the laundromat. I really want a working car again. But I think, if I had a working car. Maybe I'd be less obsessively focused on getting my grad school applications out the door with as meticulous attention as I am able to give them. I think that this is gonna be my way out, my ladder to the world of betterness.
Oh, I desire perfection! But is there such a thing? I strain after the impossible every day. I want it, oh I want it. I'm horribly arrogant and humiliated almost in tandem, or more like the two race one another, one pulling ahead, then the other, neither able to outstrip it's competitor and the race never ends.
The perfect life! I'd be warm and fit and healthy and not hungry and dehadrated. I'd feel like I had time and a desire to cook at meal times. The cigarette smoke from my neighbors late night vigils would not seep into my bedroom through the floorboards and wake me with its stench. I would be able to afford to buy CDs of the music I like. I would be able to have friends as a daily part of my life, that I would see in person. I would be productively creating beautiful artworks that are highly sought after and my dancing would be full of grace and meaning. I would be able to do the splits and I wouldn't ever feel paralized by anxiety. I would be able to talk to my neighbors. I would never let another person's apparent disdain of me get under my skin at all. I would have clear glowing skin and no trace of cellulite or bruises or vericose veins in my legs. I would be able to run fast and laugh often and make it through a yoga routine without resting 20 times. I'd have a place for everything and everything in it's place. I'd have color on my walls. I'd have all the artwork I own and want to display in elegant frames and hung on my walls. There would be no rodents in my house or feezing drafts that chill my toes right through my socks. My husband would be around often and would enjoy relaxing activities and romance and we would share mutual friends who are intellectually stimulating and fun. He would be happy and enjoy his work and feel fulfilled by it. No one would refer to me as unemployed. I'd be respected. I would have a beautiful home and a garden with herbs and help with stupid things, like housework, dishes, gardening. I'd have a little family of my own, with children that love me and that I haven't screwed up and that I can take care of because I have the means. That's perfection. I'd never feel like I can't anymore. I'd know there is a way, there is always a damn fucking way!
Oh dear God in heaven help me find my way or let me stop minding the cold.
All I want to do today is to go see a friend and I can't. I hate can't - can't is the worst word I know. It isn't entirely true...I could have bought a train ticket spent a couple hours or so getting down there and then cajoled my husband into bringing me home after his class because the train doesn't run back that late. But it would have eaten half my day and a little chunk of pocket change. Or I could've rented a car, which would have meant more money than I can justify spending right now. On the same note, I don't need a car to do my laundry either. I can just put it in a bag on my back and walk with it the 4 blocks to the laundromat. I really want a working car again. But I think, if I had a working car. Maybe I'd be less obsessively focused on getting my grad school applications out the door with as meticulous attention as I am able to give them. I think that this is gonna be my way out, my ladder to the world of betterness.
Oh, I desire perfection! But is there such a thing? I strain after the impossible every day. I want it, oh I want it. I'm horribly arrogant and humiliated almost in tandem, or more like the two race one another, one pulling ahead, then the other, neither able to outstrip it's competitor and the race never ends.
The perfect life! I'd be warm and fit and healthy and not hungry and dehadrated. I'd feel like I had time and a desire to cook at meal times. The cigarette smoke from my neighbors late night vigils would not seep into my bedroom through the floorboards and wake me with its stench. I would be able to afford to buy CDs of the music I like. I would be able to have friends as a daily part of my life, that I would see in person. I would be productively creating beautiful artworks that are highly sought after and my dancing would be full of grace and meaning. I would be able to do the splits and I wouldn't ever feel paralized by anxiety. I would be able to talk to my neighbors. I would never let another person's apparent disdain of me get under my skin at all. I would have clear glowing skin and no trace of cellulite or bruises or vericose veins in my legs. I would be able to run fast and laugh often and make it through a yoga routine without resting 20 times. I'd have a place for everything and everything in it's place. I'd have color on my walls. I'd have all the artwork I own and want to display in elegant frames and hung on my walls. There would be no rodents in my house or feezing drafts that chill my toes right through my socks. My husband would be around often and would enjoy relaxing activities and romance and we would share mutual friends who are intellectually stimulating and fun. He would be happy and enjoy his work and feel fulfilled by it. No one would refer to me as unemployed. I'd be respected. I would have a beautiful home and a garden with herbs and help with stupid things, like housework, dishes, gardening. I'd have a little family of my own, with children that love me and that I haven't screwed up and that I can take care of because I have the means. That's perfection. I'd never feel like I can't anymore. I'd know there is a way, there is always a damn fucking way!
Oh dear God in heaven help me find my way or let me stop minding the cold.
posted by She-burtsy at 6:25 PM
1 Comments:
Babe ---
Why don't you call me when you have days like this? Believe me, I really know and understand the sort of feelings you describe, and I'm happy to help and listen if I can.
Mega love-
lucy
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