January 31, 2007
Atrophy
“Is it true that if you don’t USE it you LOSE it?”
I’m sufficiently cognizant of reality to understand that when I make a change to my life, there is an equal and opposite effect to match it. So for every thing I take away from my life, I get something else to replace it – even if that something else isn’t exactly what I had in mind. And of course, when I add something to my life, I give up something else.
And “anyone who says differently is selling something.”
I’ve learned that the things I’ve given up, don’t always come back to me when I want them to. I stopped singing for a long time, and now my voice sounds like crap more often than I care to admit. I gave up being anorexic, and now have a tough time losing weight.
Yes, I know. Not always a bad thing, that.
There’s a part of me that’s fading away, cause of death atrophy by indifference. I feel like I have two choices – lose this part of myself, or fight for it and create more tension. But where do I draw the line? To what extent am I supposed to change who I am and what I want in order to keep the peace?
It’s a really hard question, folks. I don’t know if I can find the answer on my own.
January 29, 2007
I guess I’m glue
Does anyone remember someone actually using that particular taunt?
“I’m rubber, you’re glue; whatever you say bounces off me and sticks to you.”
Me neither.
If there was something I could change about the way my mind works, it would be the ability to relive snippets of my past. It’s just not convenient to recall, in vivid detail, how humiliated you were that day in second grade when you accidentally ate Liza’s Jolly Rancher and Greta and all of her friends didn’t talk to you for five years. It’s especially inconvenient when you’re twenty-eight, hands slick with glistening pear scented foam and steam fogging your bathroom mirror.
So the non-drug-induced flashbacks can go, so far as I’m concerned. Since I haven’t the foggiest notion of how to actually rid myself of memories bent on inserting themselves into my conscious at inopportune moments, I’ve tried to turn them to my advantage.
My sister once accused me of being incredibly self-centered. She was right, and the epithet still applies from time to time. When faced with a decision between “easy” and “the right thing”, I call on the good angel (left shoulder) to invoke the memory of that moment, and remind myself that I don’t want to be there again.
A really good (fantastic, actually) friend once said, “You’re never going to do anything about it,” when I described an idea I had for a social group. When I pressed her for details, she pointed out that while I often seemed inspired or excited about things, I almost never followed through with them. That memory is probably the only thing that makes me continue with projects, even when I think there’s a good chance of failure – I don’t want to be the pansy who gives up at the first sign that actual effort and perseverance might be involved.
Things stick with me. Longer than most people realize, I think. On one hand, it means that I was paying attention, that I valued these opinions enough to internalize them. On the other, it makes it really difficult to let things go – and there’s usually a price to pay for too much baggage.
So if someone could teach me how to clean house, that’d be great.
Seeking John Galt 