Life's Little Detours
I am prone to life lessons. For some reason, I encounter them at random junctures. At Jimmy John's, in the bathroom, at the bar, in the checkout line at Piggly Wiggly.
In any event, life lessons just seem to pop up everywhere. And they tend to be of a less than chipper variation.
Mostly clarifying and relatively helpful, these lessons help me keep the world in focus. Because when the world changes, I know why. And when it doesn't change to my advantage, I can accept it. With meaning, I can survive any of the strange and even uneventful occurrences of the daily.
Like my addiction to men who are more attracted to a brick wall than they are to me.
I survive this repeatedly. By working out compulsively. Or turning out the lights and dancing with myself. I've even created a notebook meant to write about them. I like to write endings. And those special and unrealistic middle parts. It feels good to create something that exists without flaw. I'm not talking about creating perfection or the best case scenario. I'm talking about getting it all out. The way I want to say it. Then closing the notebook and feeling some kind of relief.
On paper, any issue can be confronted eloquently and with undramatized emotion. One word for it is an affidavit. I used to work for a family law firm, and I'd serve these affidavits to other firms. As the paralegal's assistant, I was often granted permission to take a glimpse of the legal documents I was transporting. Most of the time, the drawn out fight that a couple would have in person was reduced to numerated conditions about the seasonal usage of a boat or the holiday trade-off custody of two children.
The lesson? Emotion gets in the way. In relationships, we often confuse the problem with the person. Or even worse, we denounce our inolvement in a problem and we point fingers.
I'm sick of pointing fingers. It has grown to be such a waste of time. My incessant need to point and say "shame on you for not wanting me!" is intolerable. And when I catch myself doing it, I look in the mirror and loathe my attitude. So I am going to stop confusing the problem with the person.
The problem: me.
The person: me.
The confusion: eliminated.
I fabricate the emotion and drama that is not shared in these little relationships I endure. Not in a verbal sense, but internally. I invent signals and recite affirmations in my head on the walk home. I create what does not exist then tear down the palace once I've built up something worthy of grand disappointment.
Then I realize that I only build so I can tear something down. Because it's clear that I can only have what I want when I know what I want. Which I don't. To know what I want would be to have meaning in these endeavors. I could finally make those little changes. Or stop worrying. I could even do something productive about my emotions. Like act on them.
A walk home from the bar did this. Sometimes when I intend to hop in a LIMO and get a ride, I get a last minute feeling that I could miss out on some quality me time.
So tonight I got some. Between 11th and 16th Street.