Tuesday, January 03, 2006

I-Don't-Knowness



     The recent dearth of entries hasn’t been for the lack of things to say, but most the lack of coherence with which to say them. I’ve attempted several statements on something going on in my head, only to lose them when I couldn’t hold the center. There lies the crux of my condition, the serious absence of a centering right now. I’m in this pronounced state of “I-don’t-knowness,” for the lack of a good big word.  Sometimes the hardest thing is holding steady when the fit hits the shan, because tension can trigger old behaviors so much easier, and I’m all the blinder of it. So I try to hold two conflicting behaviors without some central resolution, and wonder what happened when I finally notice my blunderings. After losing so many workdays to my infected leg, I thought I was relieved to return to work, when I wanted to be relieved to return to my personal stuff.  As I read more, and think more on the way I do things, I’m still falling back on my job as the near totality. “Long as I am working, I’m fine. Why should I do much else?” Mind you, I don’t think that. I ended up doing some serious neural hermeneutics to pull that coded line from the greater script. I’ve not noticed how twitchy I was, and how I was (and am) placing unreal expectations for others to meet, until after I had two verbal altercations with the Native Pagan, upset J, who moved into H’s old room, and got ready for a cold war with NP over a coffee filter in the new coffee maker. Not just that I was being damn petty, I was also wrong, and NP was right. In general, I’ve fallen back onto a playground of resentments that I am at a loss to say what really reopened it. Amongst the chaos of the last few months, I guess I’ve let some things I had pushed back for better headspace, creep in, for no reason but the irrationality borne of a tough time.
     I’ve been turning to the older dualism, with the “old” me and the “new” me considered as separate parts of me, but right now its hard to not use the language. So much of my negative behavior is neural triggers so deeply entrenched into my circuitry, that they seem to work independent of the newer reprogramming I’m hopefully rewriting into me. The “I-don’t-knowness” might come from the false emotional and intellectual echoes bounced off the older program, itself a trigger of mistrust of myself at a visceral level. I’m carrying it better than before, but I can’t remember when the last time I was loaded with latent anger. I was outraged when I got fired, and had a knee-jerk reaction that fired up the old victimization engine, but even that was narrower. I’m starting to wonder if I shouldn’t be reframing my current approach as intellectual, emotional, or even spiritual, but instead as political. I’m still trying to compromise two states within myself, vying for network space, when the only way is to make a political alliance of convenience between the two systems. Then I get to practice what little faith I have that the alliance will hold. It frightens me sometimes. I mean, I think about WWI when some poor noble shmuck got shot and the ripples of badly-made treaties and gentlemanly national agreements led to an all-out war that no-one really won. It’s like I’m patting myself on the back for creating an intricate philosophical means to not be responsible for my actions and get something done by not trying to control everything so much. What I’ve created is a real mess of compromises in which détente is held at the cost of acceptance of any meaningful long-term solution. This solution is one that would insure my own sense of freedom in the environment I live within, and acceptance that I can’t have freedom at the cost of others’ freedom.
     At least I’ve gotten to the point where, like now, I know when I should shut up, because I’m done saying what I’ve hoped to say, without drowning it too heavily in analysis.

     Of course, I could just be having fits because D has been sick all week, with food poisoning. We’ve exchanged a few e-mails, but I really haven’t “talked” to him for days. I’ve said, and more thought, some stupid things about our relationship, a lot to do with that problem of expectations, but when the fog clears, I miss him because he makes me feel better. When I chat with him, I feel like the world isn’t so big and my life isn’t so small, and I matter because I matter to him. I’m awful at this whole love thing. I generally am getting a little better at the whole friendship love thing, but I’m so lost with this kind of love. I can’t remember if it was Ovid or if it was Horace who said that love is two mad people made more made for the want of each other. Hell, it could have been Susan Sontag, for all I know. But I like the sentiment. I don’t need to know I love him. I just do. For whatever the future holds. So I guess, I’m least being uncompromising in one place. I’ll take it.



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