when you set an objective, it's a good idea to make certain your obsessive/compulsive synapses aren't firing at the same time. i forgot an important part of doing this kind of journaling: you have to accomplish things and give yourself credit for the accomplishments at the same time you're rooting around in your own spiritual graveyard. i have been in heavy space. i have gone down into the muck a bit further than i have before. i was really sad yesterday. and i cleaned out the fridge, got rid of some really smelly stuff, washed the drawers and the shelf, and have room for everything now. i successfully blackened chicken thighs, though as everything, some tweaking is required to make it better and thus make it mine. so today, i'm going to implement something that should have been in orbit with me all along. and it's okay that i forgot, because i'm allowed to. today, and on forward, i'm going to try to do something that i want to do every day, something that makes me feel good, and i'm going to include those things in my trip, so that i can look back and realize some of the things that have come as a result of the sacrifices i'm making. so, let's start this right, okay?
woke up, said my prayer and nodded back out til 0545. it was a sluggish morning, but that's because i had a nice video last night, rain fall for 8 hours accompanied by floating candles in random patterns. good lord, that put me right under and the sleep was marvelous, relaxing and refreshing. i woke up, again, and i got ready for the gym and to take Syd to catch her bus. i put clothes away that i washed yesterday (when i washed my coffee cup drying mat, washed all my cups and put a clean set of coffeeware back on a clean counter) and i got trash ready to toss. after i took Syd to the busstop i went to the gym. i took it a bit lighter as my shoulder has been bugging me a bit and i mostly wanted to focus on that, but i did a half-mile at a decent incline on the treadmill as well. i came home, and i did something i'm proud of. I POACHED EGGS FOR BREAKFAST!
i know, you probably poach eggs in your sleep. but i've always wanted to poach an egg and never bothered to learn. there's a reason i'm mentioning this now. i never bothered to learn because, like guitar soloing, it always seemed to be some kind of arcane magic. i could see turning my fuck-up into egg drop soup, from my lack of belief that i could do it. and the sad thing is, that's pretty indicative of my of doing things. i was afraid, i'm saying, to fail. and because i've been afraid to fail, i have been afraid to try. and because i wouldn't try, i limited my knowledge and my skill set. this has been true of my writing, of my art, of my love life, of my education, of so many things. so it's not just a poached egg (or two, with a piece of wheat toast, 200 breakfast calories), it's a metaphor. and it's the opening of the envelope i'm going to push today.
i started learning to cook as a reaction to the fighting that was constantly going on in my house of origin. my mom and dad fighting over every conceivable thing, but the essence of it was a treated but neglectful recovering alcoholic trying to re-claim head of household status from a dysfunctional co-dependent with unknown issues and a need to not feel unsafe any longer. that made everything a battlefield and every object (people, places, things, situations and circumstances) weapons and ammunition. i hated their fighting. i hated fighting of all kinds, as a result. i would cry at the top of the stairs when they would fight. i was far too smart for my own good. i thought to myself, 'dad complains about things around the house that aren't the way he wants them to be. if i make sure things are done the way he says they should be, then my parents will stop fighting'. combine this with a food fiend mentality, or an obsession/compulsion with the numbing and soothing properties of food and you have a time bomb waiting to explode.
we had the big blue good housekeeping cookbook, at least that was the one i was most into at that time. i would find a recipe, see if we had what i needed, and follow the instructions. i made some horrible things over the years, but i would succeed from time to time. i'd also watch my grandmothers cooking, and i would stay in their kitchens as long and as much as i could, trying to learn different things. i was, by trying to help, maybe doing more damage than i knew, because my dad never did get to the point of feeling 'at least someone is trying', but to reason he would have makes sense for a child. instead, i think he took it as more indication of my mother's defiance. his second child in the kitchen, where at that time it was assumed no man was supposed to be in the kitchen anyway. he would not eat what i cooked, good or bad.
admittedly, my fried chicken was horrible for a long time. learning to cook a piece of chicken all the way through was work. my dad, though he will eat things that i cook today, won't eat my chicken still. i have no problem with that. but i did. i had to tell my dad, once, that he had to stop talking about me to other people like i was still in grade school. that was within the last fifteen years or so. eventually i just stopped cooking for him, and continued to experiment, because the other side of not being willing to try when you're obsessive/compulsive is that when you lock onto something, you're like a pit bull. your jaws lock and you are not going to be shaken loose, even if you land in hell for your efforts. i am a very good cook now. my son keeps me humble, because he is a GREAT cook and a damn fine chef as well. i know i'm getting better because i learn from him and he still comes here for my greens and sweet potato pie. it's a nice balance.
its like when i lied in the first grade about being able to draw. i had to learn to draw in order to erase the lie. many people would have simply admitted they lied, or they would have just stayed belligerent despite the clear knowledge that they'd been revealed as liars. but i set out to correct my lie, to turn it into the truth. i don't know exactly where that came from. i don't know why i couldn't just let it go and just be a guy who couldn't draw. but up to the time i went into treatment for my drugs and alcohol, i drew constantly. when i got sober, i stopped drawing for the most part and began writing again. man, i'm sleepy at the moment. sitting here nodding off. not sure what that's about. like i said, i did get a good sleep last night. blood moon this weekend, could be spiritual slumber. i don't know, but i know i'm going to let this go for a moment, get back to it after a quick nap maybe.
i don't know what the problem was today, but i had no energy whatsoever. it was really weird. i mean, i did the gym, like i said, and i think that was kind of it for responsible things. i didn't sleep, or maybe i powernapped for a minute or three. but i couldn't get my brain engaged to do things. but...i did a bunch of writing on Mechanical Jesus. that counts for something, but i need to increase my physical activity as a catalyst for the weight loss to be as efficient as possible. anyway, it was what it was.
its night now. i am still tired. i ate good, responsibly, and i wrote quite a bit. i will get my cleaning done early tomorrow, because i want some leisure time. it doesn't look like i'm going to see R this weekend. she's holding steady, but things are still falling from the center. i have no right to demand time if i can't offer any stabilizing elements to her life, so i don't. but i miss her, and that is still a good feeling; that i can be so connected to someone that their absence affects my presence.
i think the part that gets me is that i'm not trying to find a stand-in. i want R, and i don't want anyone in R's place. i am without a doubt that i could have someone here, but it wouldn't be what i wanted. i don't know what that is exactly. love is already a given. i have no issue with love. it's the 'break your ankle and bone sticking through the skin falling into' love that i don't believe in anymore. i guess it used to work for people, and i know it happened to me once, but every other time i 'fell' in love i injured my heart in the fall. how's that for some profoundly disturbing shit? and i don't even think its a mommy issue. i don't need any woman to take care of me. not even looking for an emotional surrogate mother for Syd, though i maybe should have thought on that a bit more. i want a woman who's going to be there for me, who can be real and honest and firm, while being loving and caring, who will have my best interest at heart, parallel with her own at least, because that what i will do with her. these are selfish times, we're all sort of wrapped up in our own shit. time to worry about someone else is not a priority in most lives. and when we want to see other lives, we want to do it vicariously, like reality tv shit. but i know R cares for me, about me and loves me. i know that she has my best interest at heart. were i to trip and break my ass in the fall into love thing, i'm fairly sure if she didn't do her Jackie Joyner track star run, she would be there to make sure i was okay. and i don't really mind with her. i used to, it used to really infuriate me, but even that's just indicative of how much i care about her. love is funny.
house is quiet. i had a salad, soup and a yogurt this evening. talked to Lonnie briefly, considering a new program that Amazon has to offer for actual publishing with contract. i am going to ponder it for Mechanical Jesus. i keep yawning. its a bit too early for me to put on the relaxation vibe. i am so digging that stuff. i mean, to listen to waves or rain or just the wind, to let my body relax from head to toe and to let those peaceful sounds carry me into a solid sleep...its like a massage by a million faeries. but for early cleaning, i guess an early night is not a bad idea. i'm not done with the excavation, but i don't want to start in the heaviness at this time of night. think i'm going to find a good long vibe and just go under. R will be in touch as soon as she can, and i'll talk to her then. i feel good today. i feel accomplished, because the writing was nice. talk more tomorrow, promise.
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