Groundswell
11-23-10 | 00:23
A month to the day since my last entry. I cannot sleep. This may have to do with the fact that I did nothing with the past two days. Oh, I managed to take Bubble out for a walk this afternoon, but outside of that I've stayed home and watched television and made pasta with various sauces and herbs. Yesterday it was tagliarelle with truffle butter and chives, today it was elbow macaroni with extra sharp cheddar and white pepper.
I also didn't go to my dance class this evening. I did weigh the consequences and decided against it, but part of me wishes I would have gone.
Tomorrow I've things to do, and I still get to have an early night.
I know my inability to sleep is do to all of the images I watched on television. I close my eyes and images on the screen are burned into my mind, and I hear jingles or snippets of conversation from some stupid show. This is probably one of the reasons I used to have trouble feeling real. I used to do nothing with my days but shop and drink and watch shows. When all you're doing is watching fictional life it is pretty easy to feel unreal.
I had a birthday. It was a shitty one and I woke up at the Four Seasons that morning all alone. PB and I had a fight. Oh, we are just fine now, better than fine but sometimes I hold anger for his past stupid behavior and when he acted stupid again, and on my birthday - I simply lost my patience. I'm volatile and moody, he is inconsiderate and closed off. Those are the worst of our flaws - two words each. The best thing is that we each know that about each other and we are actively working on there "attributes" of our personalties.
I started taking voice lessons, and I am excited and nervous for my next lesson. I want to project my voice and I want my speech to have more intent and to sound smoother. A lot of voice coaching is about being comfortable with yourself and jumping around and making stupid sounds. It is really difficult since I have yet even been able to let go like that when I am alone. I am doing breathing exercises however.
I feel dreadfully boring right now.
I'm going to register for Spring classes this week. Wanting to take a course on language and society and a course in Personality. Just Personality. Capital P.
Do you ever watch a movie and become so dissatisfied with the ending or with the main content of the movie that you replay it in your head the way you wished it would go? I did that in bed just now with a cheesy movie I saw earlier today. The movie came out in 2000, that rare glimpse of time where everything was rising and we were most worried about the newest art gallery opening or what new restaurant to dine at. It stars Nick Cage and he is a wealthy and successful business tycoon who, on Christmas Eve, gets to see what his life would have been like had he chosen love over business. God movies like that make me sick, but I watched it anyway, hoping he would come to his senses and choose his business and penthouse apartment over some castrating bitch in Jersey. Oh well, he chose her. So I was in bed earlier, playing the movie in my head if he just lived life as normal and how wonderful it would be. Why do movies make people think that the only choice is either/or? It is ridiculous.
It has been three days since I did yoga or any type of exercise and I am getting antsy. I really love pushing myself physically. That is why I wished I'd gone to dance tonight. Tomorrow I have yoga and I am going to give it all my breath and all my attention.
Part of the problem is that I don't have anything interesting to read. I am currently rereading this non-fiction book on the history of cleanliness in the western culture, it dates from Greek bathhouses to current conceptions of cleanliness. It is quite fascinating and I loved it on the first read, but I can't quite seem to get into it again.
The problems of our childhood become the focus of our adulthood. My problem(s) have always been intent and responsibility. Too often I will spend my days without intent. They will just seem to pass my by in a haze of television and pasta. I do this because I am afraid to take responsibility, I am afraid of falling flat on my face. I don't even breathe with intent. It just happens and then I find myself short of breath. The lack of intent in my past two days is causing my insomnia.
I just put on some nocturnes, currently listening to one from Carmen.
All this - the voice lessons - the yoga, the dance class, it is all for intent. So I can become proficient and strong, and well, good in something. Because up until now - well I don't have very many parlor tricks.
I certainly do have a lot of ticks, however. They come out when I am stressed or when I cannot sleep. I start to constantly blink, I hit my wrist or elbow against my hip, with my elbow it is two quick taps in succession. Going to stop writing about them because as I write I must perform. Oh there we go, I can perform ticks!
So what can I read? I'm not into chick-lit at all, don't like biographies, or memoirs or anything of the sort. I loathe Jane Austen but adore the Bront�s. Withering Heights, The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, and Jane Eyre. I love Edith Warton and Colette.
I am starting to get sleepy.
Goodnight.
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I am also really lonely. PB is out for the day with his guys, and it is not that I even miss him, what I miss is being able to enjoy myself. I was going to go out to USC for lunch and sit at the bar with something to read and enjoy a glass of wine and some food but then I was unable to because I didn't have the right pair of jeans - no joke. That is what a flop I am. I used to be able to entertain myself and now I am unable to. Do I miss drugs? I feel like I've been stuck in this for years and years. I'm always lamenting about how I miss the past, it is getting beyond boring. I don't listen to myself anymore, I don't listen to myself breathe, or allow myself to think. Allow myself to breathe, listen to myself think. I don't feel good about myself anymore. I wonder if I ever did?
I am about to turn another year older. I've hardly moved from where I was when I was twenty-two. And I thought I was a fuck-up and a failure then, whew! The only constant things I do is retreat, and regress, and repeat. I go for comfort and safety even though I like to say I am adventurous. Or rather, like to believe.
I know that I am perfectly capable of going out to the local coffee place and getting myself a soothing warm cup of coca and sitting in the park and allowing myself to experience this beautiful day. But I do not, I am not. Why do I not allow myself that?
PB hates how heavy I am but I just, I try and be light, I try and cover my heaviness, I try and work through it, I try and ignore it, I don't know what the underlying issue is at this point in time so I cannot resolve it. It just keeps rearing its ugly head. And I swear that I am not having a pity party for myself right now because I know how lucky I am. I know that my life is charmed, and that I am just a lonely, lazy git who loves to complain.
He thinks I am constantly dissatisfied in him, or the relationship, I don't know what but he mentions it every time we fight. I adamantly deny it, but, maybe I am. Maybe I am in myself and the littlest let-downs from others drive me down into myself because of this self-dissatisfaction.
I am more scared than dissatisfied. Scared that I don't know how to live in the real world. Scared that I am not independent. Scared that I will never do that things I want to do because they are "too challenging". I am scared that I will never be able to see the difference in the image of myself and who I really am.
As for PB the only thing I am dissatisfied in is his sexual prowess. He and I have excellent chemistry when we are both on, but when he is off he is really off. I've been so "on" lately that I have been having dirty dreams two nights in a row. I want to wear naughty lingerie and taken to a hotel room by PB and ravished. I want him to be utterly enthused at pleasing me and I want to roll around in silk sheets. I don't want him to stop until there is only skin and bones.
I love him so much. Even when I don't want to. He is the only want I want to kiss, and he is the only one that makes me feel safe. He knows almost all my secrets and loves me anyway.
I just have to work on myself, but I don't know where to start.
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Somehow I always thought that once you had a goal or a desire you set out to achieve it and that would be that. I never would have thought in a million years that being an adult is a constant birage of things you gotta do. I'll have thoughts about something that I must do and instead of being able to execute my goal at that very moment I must tuck it away until a time when I can follow through with my plan, but then the plans keep mounting ( planning that never-gonna-happen vacation, new bed sheets, electric bill, make dinner, research for paper, plan time with folks to appease them, take a shower, budget for savings, walk dog, make bed, write paper, go to class...) and I can never seem to remember them at the appropriate time.
Sometimes I find being a person so exhausting. And I don't even have real-world responsibilities! And of course when I realize that I immediately fall into a funk and feel bad about myself because I don't even deserve to be failing because I don't work at anything well enough to fail at.