Editorial

I once had a friend who practiced a form of meditation where he would purposefully try to not edit any thought that came into his mind for a specified period of time. He said that most people would be surprised how difficult it is to do at first. A lot of thoughts try to surface and get immediately pushed back down for various reasons. I’ve tried the non-editing meditation and can’t say I liked it very much. Of course, the point is not that one will like it so much as to just take as much of an objective look at one’s true thoughts as possible. I’ve tried it a few times this weekend and so far what I’ve discovered is that I’ve come a very long way down the road of masking myself from myself. I’ve trained myself to think of so many other things instead of what I’m really thinking that it’s amazing anything gets done in my head at all. For example,
just now I got up to go to the bathroom and I took notice of a thought that popped into my head as I was leaving the bathroom. Something drifted to the surface about the house I was staying in when I was abused as a child. My eyes, however, came to the rescue and noticed that not only had the bed not been made but I should probably change the sheets too and oh how about those clothes in the dryer and don’t forget to make lunch…..and I caught myself. Caught myself editing. I’ll probably always edit.

Here, I don’t edit as much. It’s my brain drain I share with the rest of the world. Here, I can reveal anything I want. Or nothing at all. Or somewhere in between. Which is where I am right now. Caught with a thought in my throat. Deciding whether or not to edit. How much to reveal and how important it is or isn’t to reveal anything at all.

oh wait…you were waiting on a big confession weren’t you?

I stopped trying to twist myself into a tiny knot perfect without wings or breath and decided to drag myself to the top of the bottles of vodka and gin and then finally climb out and to stop being a whore, not just for money, but for the world and to no longer be a slave to anyone but myself and once having made the decision have never looked back and never will.

Never say never you say? Never, I say.

Now I actually have plans for my life and can think in a linear pattern that doesn’t involve my next drink or prodding and nagging someone to get a job so that I don’t have to screw to pay the rent. Now I’ve moved on. Now David is in the past, still floating in a bottle and having the occasional heart attack. Chuck found the perfect fake breasts attached to someone female and moved them in with him after years of wondering why I just fucking left one evening and never came back. He joined AA. Will ceases never wonder. And Sandy is just a memory. An old voice that pops up somewhere now and then, but only in my head. No longer a voice on the other end of the phone line telling me what exactly is expected of me if I am to maintain my position within her organization. Her position was on all fours and always will be. Lapping at the next cock she can swindle.

I’ve come too fucking far to let a negative viewpoint or opinion cloud my vision now.

I’m sorry did I forget to hit edit or delete?? Have a good Monday folks.

i told you all along that the truth had teeth…..

Tuesday Morning Conversation a/k/a Ouch

er: Baby hand me those 2 Pepsi’s out of the fridge….

Me: What 2 Pepsi’s?

Jer: The one’s in the plastic thingy

Me: ‘k

You know that plastic thing they put around plastic soda bottles to hold them together? I had to cut that thing off. I could have just pulled the sodas out, but I cut the plastic thing apart anyway cause I heard something about how seagulls get them caught around their feet in landfills or choke on em or something like that, so I proceeded to grab the scissors from the nearby drawer and cut the first Pepsi bottle from the plastic thingy. The conversation continued:

Me: Jeremy! Baby! Uh! Fuck! NO I mean FUCK!!!

Jer: wha–?

Me: Come here. NOW. FUCK FUCK FUCK!!! Shit.

Jer: Baby what? I gotta get ready–

Me: Dammit!!! I cut my fucking thumb!!!! FUCK I CUT MY FUCKING THUMB!!!!

Jer: HOW DID YOU DO THAT? HOW BAD IS IT? LEMME SEE LEMME SEE!!!

Me: No! I don’t wanna move it!!! It hurts!!! I’m bleeding! FUCK I CUT MY FUCKING THUMB!!! I don’t wanna move it!!! I don’t wanna move it!!!

Jer:Come to the bathroom! Come on!! Come on!! I gotta see it!! Lets go!! Lemme see!!!

Me: FUCK I CUT MY FUCKING THUMB!!!!! I don’t know how deep it is! FUCK I CUT MY FUCKING THUMB!!!!!

Jer: Baby you’re freakin’. Stop freakin’.

Me: FUCK I CUT MY FUCKING THUMB!!!!! FUCK I CUT MY FUCKING THUMB!!!!!

Jer: Baby calm down. You’re still freaking.

Me: NO I’M NOT FUCKING FREAKING!!! I CUT MY FUCKING THUMB!!!

Jer: ‘k, let’s get some tissue and look at it.

Me: GET THE PEROXIDE!!! GET THE AMBESOL!!! GET THE ALCOHOL!!! GET SOME BANDAIDS!!! FUCK!!!

Jer: Baby we don’t have Ambesol.

(I forgot Ambesol was for teeth.)

Me:GET THE NEOSPORIN!!!!!! GET THE NEOSPORIN!!!! WHERE’S THE NEOSPORIN?!?!

Jer: It’s right here. Okay, let’s see how bad it is. Run some water over it and we’ll take a look.

Me: ok, ok, ok,

:::water running over thumb, blood pouring down sink::::

Jer backs away.

Me: Oh WOW!!! Look how deep that is!!! Woah! I think I hit bone!!!! Check that shit out!!! You can see deep inside there!!!! Look it baby!!!!!

Jer: uh, babe….

Me: That’s deep LOOK!!!! COOL!!!!

Jer: uh….that’s not cool….STOP HOLDING IT OPEN!!!! UGH!!! GET IT AWAY FROM ME!!!

The moral of this story:
Don’t cut the lil plastic Pepsi thingies off of the bottles. Just pull the bottle out and then cut the plastic thingy apart later when there are no sodas in it.

So….do you think it needs stitches?

Posted by melissa at 08:56 AM | Say What? (16) | TrackBack

May 24, 2004

You Come Up With A Snazzy Freakin’ Title

While sitting alone today on a break the haunting melody from Sleeping Beauty wove its way into my thoughts ….only it was my coworkers that came to mind ….and the lyrics were slighty altered…..

I know you, I bitch slapped you

Once Upon a Dream

I know you, the gleam in your eyes

Tells me you’re too fucking lazy to do your job

But I know it’s true

That visions are seldom all they seem

But if I know you

I know what you’ll do the least you can do

You’ll pass off your work to me at once

The way you did once

Upon a Dream

But I know it’s true

That visions are seldom all they seem

But if I know you

I know what you’ll do

You’ll call in sick all at once

The way you did once

Upon a Dream

I know you, I slammed your head into a wall

Once Upon a Dream

I know you, the gleam in your eyes

Tells me you’re trying to leave early again

But I know it’s true

That visions are seldom all they seem

But if I know you

I know what you’ll do

The very least that’s expected of you

The way you did once

Upon A Dream

 

The Real Me and Lesser Fallacies

I was AIMing with a friend this morning who said something to the effect that he was not trying to get to know the real me through my posts. I told him it was a good thing because I’m not even sure who that is. I’m more honest in my writing than ever and have plans to edit less and less of myself until all you see is a mass of veins and truth laid out on a page. But the real me is still in question. For example, while I was delving into one of my favorite reads this morning I was reminded of a post I made on January 22 of this year. I gotta thank Error for reminding me of that post, and hence who I was and what I was feeling just four months ago. I rarely go back and read anything in my own archives.

**mental note to self: write more poetry and import old stray bullet archives to butterfly teeth this weekend. or else.**

Thing is, I’m constantly shifting. I resent the person I was in January when I wrote that post because I knew who I was then. I was on the verge of something but damned if I remember what. Now I have plans, but no clues. I was centered.

Now I’m back to finding my way in the dark, looking for what ever closeness I had with myself a few months ago. And I’ll find it. And I’ll lose it again. Same pattern. Relentless repetition.

Am I the only one? I think not. But what does it matter. Lately I just feel so utterly isolated. I see how others live, how those around me at the lab interact with one another….and I wonder what it feels like to feel as they do. Not that I truly want to know. I just wonder. Most of their interactions involve gossip and small mindedness and there are only a couple I can relate to on any sort of level that doesn’t numb my senses, so I avoid any sort of conversation beyond the weather with the majority of people there. But I observe. I’m always observing, scanning, taking mental notes and forgetting them as soon as they are jotted down.

Part of me just feels like I’m never going to grow roots. True roots. Deeply embedded roots that can not be dredged from the spirit and tossed aside. I keep moving from place to place, relationship to relationship, assuring myself that it’s permanent this time. And it’s been mostly lies cleverly constructed to shut up my inner voice. And deep inside something is screaming and I haven’t a fucking clue what language it speaks.

Posted by melissa at 10:25 AM | Say What? (10) | TrackBack

May 13, 2004

Giving Up Hope

Since I spoke out against the abuse of Iraqi prisoners, I’m going to put my two cents worth in on the beheading of Nick Berg. I saw the video this morning. I know, I know, I probably should not be watching that sort of thing. But I did.

It’s easy to say that the people who did this should be killed. And, yes, I think they should be since it would at the very least rid the earth of them. But you can’t kill the idea or the mindset that caused them to do it in the first place. You can’t purge the earth of that kind of brutality and sickness. It just can’t be done.

I wish we lived in a world where no one tortured anyone, no matter what the means or cause. We don’t live in that world and we really never have. We can speak out against it, we can write articles and blog out against it, we can take to the streets and rally against it, we can try to shove peace down all the throats of everyone on earth; but we can’t get rid of this sort of brutality.

I used to have a hope that we could. I don’t have that hope anymore.

There is nothing that one human being will not do to another.

After posting this I wen’t over to Brain Crayons and read her entry for today. I swear there must be something in the blogwater making everyone write about the same thing on the same days.

She chose not to look at the images, and I have a great deal of respect for that decision. I do think that, especially in times when I am being particularly assaulted by the memories of horrors I’ve experienced myself, that I should avoid all media that wants to further assault my senses with more graphic violence than I can safely tolerate at the time. For a lot of people having already experienced significant trauma in their lives the scars left by those experiences pulls a curtain partially closed over their souls, making it difficult to do anything but try to manage what they have already experienced and shield themselves from further damage. I think for those of us trying to manage, it’s hard to distinguish just where the middle ground is on not wanting to cause further damage to our own psyche, but not wanting to live in a fairy tail either.

All I can seem to think of at the moment is that a co-worker who just gave birth six weeks ago brought the baby by the lab yesterday and I held him for a good while. I think about his beauty, his soft skin, the way he smelled, his warmth and then I think of the visuals I chose to look at in the video of Nick Berg. The spectrum of emotion is overwhelming. Yeah, I probably shouldn’t have looked either.