Monday, March 16, 2009
Just call me The Twisty Death Apple
Back to regular programming.
The line between "Real life" and "blog life" is a fuzzy one. Sometimes I get SO caught up with my online life and neglect real life; like going outside, enjoying 3-D friends, etc. Often times, I know that I cannot turn on the computer or I will be sucked into a black hole and by the end of the day, I'll have no clue whether there were clouds in the sky or not.....
Then, when you aren't blogging for awhile or "checking in" you have this pressure, like shit- "she better be up to something great and come back with something interesting to say, otherwise what's her excuse? Reality television and couch-potatoing got the best of her??"
Anyway, blah blah, who cares.
Yesterday was My Love's 25th birthday- we ate sushi, had two fantastic shows, rehearsals and engaged in other adult-like debaucheries. I was really waiting for an excuse to make cake so I'm glad I finally got one, because Mama was missin' licking the beaters.
...then I did a few girly flip outs about how I'm leaving for Sanibel Island on Saturday and I'm not fit to get into a bikini yet, so I punished myself even more by stressing over a platter of onion rings and cream cheese frosting. What the fuck is that? When you're feeling stress, it makes you less productive, or when you're feeling an overwhelming amount of things to do, it makes you lazy?.....or when you're feeling fat is just makes you hungrier?
Why are brains so twisty and complicated?
I've started to notice one serious problem that my brain has been coming up with. My brain has been weaving this web and capturing all good things, wrapping the up, suffocating them, then turning them into twisty fucked up versions of the "original beautiful thing." For instance, My Love's sweetness:
"Babe, you are the most intense person I know."
When someone tells you you're intense, it's only natural to INTENSELY react....
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN I'M INTENSE?!?!" .....well Chels, your uncanny impression of Jack Nicholson in The Shining may have a tiny bit to do with it. My poor love walks into so many traps....when he's trying to be nice I read into everything he says and turn it around and make him feel bad for saying it, when he was really only trying to be sweet.....Why won't I just LET HIM be sweet?
"You're like that fruit......"
Me: "What fruit????...."
My Sweet Love: "You know the fruit that Adam eats....it's like that really delicious AMAZING fruit....like nothing he's every tasted before. The texture, the flavor, everything about it is the most incredible thing in the world...."
Me now in full-crazy-mode: "You mean the apple? I'm like the tempting Apple that KILLS Adam? The Satan fruit?"
My Sweet Lover now fully locked in my death trap: "....oh wait, NO. Not that fruit. You're like the fruit from Chronicles of Narnia....right? Is that what I'm thinking about? Amazing Narnian fruit? .....I didn't mean the apple, wrong story. You're not the tempting death fruit."
Me feeling like Satan's plaything dangling in front of sweet cherubic Adam (i.e. My Love):
"Well, I do like apples. But, good. I'm like what? You think I'm the fucking fruit that makes you die. I look nice on the outside but I'm actually POISON. I'm the reason for your slow-death demise. I'm the destruction of all things good."
Sweet-cherub-angel-lover-still in cage: "Baby, I was just trying to say you're the most amazing thing, unlike anything else I've ever had in my life. You're not wicked sinful fruit. You're incredible fruit....rare, delicious fruit."
WHY DO I DO THAT??? I've started taking everything, EVERYTHING, that My Love, my family, my friends say and dissect it's goodness into tiny strange bits. Pieces so small they're impossible to decipher or reconstruct. I'm a mad man, with a machete to all things that would allow me to feel good about myself, the way people feel about me, my success- everything.
Why, as people do we not just allow ourselves to celebrate when YES, we are fucking amazing! Yes, you are beautiful! Smart! Deserving! FUCKING. INCREDIBLE. Why are we the first people with a quick draw to shoot down anything that allows us to be as incredible as we really are?
All I know, is I'm ready to put the machete back down. To drop my shield, my defense mechanisms and sudden unnecessary outburst of rank venom.
If ain't broke, don't fix it right- or at least don't go at it like a wild Banshee chasing a rabid boar. Let the good things BE......