Tuesday, April 23, 2013

Where It Lands, No One Knows

I've meandered a bit. I've pondered. I've wandered. I wondered. I've said little. Felt little. Shared little. 

I've had apathy of a malaise proportion. 

I actually wrote a blog all about how apathetic I am.

Now, isn't that ironic and impossible?

How can I write so much about how much I'm not caring?

Well, I am caring. Sort of. I'm just not feeling.

I tried to write about just how sad I am that I'm not feeling anything, but you wouldn't believe how hard it is to do that.

I tried to write something clever. Common.

I tried to write something true. Lies.

I tried to write something funny. Dumb.

I tried to write from my heart. Cement.

I tried to write from my head. Rubber cement.

(I can't think of rubber cement without thinking of Ron Jaworkski in the fourth grade, making fake boogers out of rubber cement, and his little chant: "Round and Round the Booger Goes, Where it Lands, No One Knows.)

I tried to write what I was feeling, but how many ways can I describe confusion and apathy? I also felt guilty about feeling confused and apathetic.

You know what that is?

That's pathetic. (And vaguely Catholic.) I knew that was pathetic. So I kept it inside.

Maybe I'm getting all Gino Vanelli on me, living inside myself.




What is more pukey?
His hair?
His voice?
His emoting: (living inside thisssss hell.)
His backup singers?
The synthesized music of the late 70s early 80s.
It's funny how back then I didn't notice how all the songs sounded the same. Listening to this now, it sounds exactly like the Commodores song, After the Love is Gone. Oh hell, here it is. What could be worse than me writing about how much I don't feel lately?

Oh guess what? It's Earth, Wind, & Fire.





I escaped my apathy malaise by watching a lot of subtitled subtle films. Now I wish I had kept track of them, just to list them, because I have this notion that watching a foreign film is almost as damn intellectual as reading a book, depending on the book. (That bio by Greg Allman notwithstanding.)

I also got cast in a play and went to rehearsal every night for six weeks and studied my lines every night. The play is "Extremities," and it's a good play and a fine production. Getting good at my lines and my characterization helped me rekindle my creative desires, at least as an actress. It also helped me get some confidence back that I hadn't even realized I had lost.

I did some hash runs. I went to some art gallery openings. I went to some plays. I went to some concerts. I hosted some dinners. I spent time with friends.

And I said goodbye to someone very special to me. A friend, an artist, an actor, a singer. Only he wasn't around to hear it. My friend committed suicide. I couldn't process the loss. I couldn't listen to his music. I cried. I wept. He's not coming back. And that was his choice. I'm making a different choice. I'm fighting through. "If you're ever going through hell, keep on going." Churchill, I think.

I started writing many times, but I'd get only a few sentences out before the onslaught of self-loathing for feeling anything but grateful about my life of privilege.

Well.

I lost my job.

I suppose that was the biggest surprise of all.

Actually, I still have it until May 3, after which point someone from India will have it. My manager who configured this reshuffling was disappointed that I could not muster more joy for the department in cutting their budget and celebrate their fortune. The directors and managers now get bonuses for outsourcing. I guess I wondered he much he got for me. A gift card to St. Elmo's?

So I really am going on a new journey now. It's not one I want. But I don't get a choice, and there's only so long I can dwell in that.

I got laid off seven years ago. It was the worst time of my life. I have a fear of feeling like that again, and I think that's why I'm using apathy. As a weapon. Against myself. Only it doesn't hurt. And that sort of defeats the purpose of weapons.

Instead I should use sex as a weapon.




One night I got home from rehearsal late, and I had no intention of going to bed. I decided to stay up all night and watch movies. I watched "Reality Bites." I thought it would be "all ironic or whatever" of me. Twenty years later, I hate to admit it, but what a whiny ass movie! To make matters worse, I was so tired I had to go to bed. I got up and went to work. Sort of. I logged in from home, put a rock on my keyboard, and mowed my lawn then took some things to Goodwill.

I decided to do the responsible thing and have all manner of medical appointments--eye, dentist, pap, mam. My pap came back irregular. I had cysts on my uterus. I cried a few tears over that, possibly long term health issues coupled with not having any insurance. I didn't know which was worse. Then my mam came back with irregularities. This was too much. But another mam and an ultrasound revealed nothing malignant, so I am in the clear. I had the cysts frozen off this morning. I am in the clear for now. I won't have to figure out how to pay for treatments without insurance. That is good on both counts. That gave me a new lease. When you think you're losing your good health, you don't think much about other things. You think about people you love.

I thought of my nieces and nephews and mom and dad and Earl and Larry and Michigan.

That's how I know what matters in my life. If I ever doubt, I'll just remember what came to mind when faced with potential bad news about my health.

I thought of living. Of simple things. 

And I wondered if I could just give up this rat race. Just have simple things. This might be part of the journey and it might not be by choice.

But I'm at the height of my earning years, and it looks like I might be starting over.

I haven't been able to say that or articulate it. I've only felt it, and it felt like dread, so I turned off my feelings.

Because, I am afraid to admit that like Ron Jaworski's fake booger,

Round and round I go,
Where I land, no one knows.