Tuesday, November 27, 2012

Post One Hundred and Ninety Two: F*cking Affirmative.

Fuck Affirmations.

Today I was driving between jobs. I had just finished a morning funeral and I was in a hurry to make it to a family home to pick up the next group for the afternoon. Without lunch, without sleep and without being able to stop for a piss.

I was on the highway and the thought came into my head. I did not want to drive, not for another minute. I wanted to pull over. I wanted to pull over the car and sit by it's side. I imagined what would happen if I quit, there and then. I couldn't do that to the group waiting for my ferry, never could I leave someone when they needed....someone. Not me, just someone. Some lady with wheels, in a silly outfit and $4.50 in her bank account.  

I couldn't find the house. I had thirty seconds until I would be late for the pickup. The house numbers were muddled, and I hadn't been informed that there was a side lane in which a nursing home slept unassumingly. I saw a postman so I stopped the car and ran out. They understand numbers. They understand houses.

"Postman! Postman PAAAAAAAAAAAAT."

He didn't hear me. He didn't hear me through his silly outfit.

The job ended as it should. I got to the next job with ten minutes to spare.

I ate a biscuit. I turned the air conditioning in the vehicle onto arctic freeze so that my cheeks felt a sting.

I've since been ruminating over this feeling.

It's more dangerous to dig a grave for your feelings and bury them than to attend to them; to action them with all their ugly, decomposing honesty.

I want to use this. I want to accept these feelings and look at them and scrub my mind clean with them. I want to remove indecision by shaking them and poking them. These feelings are sad, but I need not be so forever.

Someone told me once that they repeated the same affirmation day after day in the car on the way to school.

"Every day in every way, life is getting better and better for me."

Affirmations feel 'culty'.

I need to be responsible for how shit I may feel as a result of the route that I'm driving. If not, maybe I have to get out of the car.


Monday, November 19, 2012

Post One Hundred and Ninety One: Captain Ambiguous

Sometimes it's hard to just be.

Here and now; it's apparently all that really matters, yet people don't appear to behave in ways that support the notion. What are home loans all about if it doesn't matter if you ever pay them off? Why have children, if our one unifying drive is to live for the moment? (Unless the fruitful focus of the moment is in fornication, I suppose)...

That is a digression. I had a point to this waffle but I appear to have lost that too.

Let's regroup.

I struggle with ambiguity. It's a control issue that I've only just uncovered.

Happy or sad; these two emotional states are comfortable for me. If I'm sad, I know where I stand. Acknowledging the root of this disappointment or depression is healing in itself. I generally perk up organically.

Shit gets ugly if either state, when grounded in reason, is compromised or brought to question by the unknown. And the unknown has a direct link with the future. As a very clever friend brought to my attention, happiness can be more readily sensed when opportunity is present. It's an attractive energy, radiating back in time from a possible pleasure inducing destiny. But opportunity, oh opportunity, where art thou?  

Will I? When can? What is?

This is a rebirth, this stage a modification of infancy born out of the realisation that I can conceivably keel over and die at any moment, or worse, that those I've formed attachments with can do so too.

When I don't have the answers, sometimes it is so very hard to just be.