Too much going on and not enough progress. I needed a musical interlude and as ever, this fits the bill.
Mutter Strangelove
Or “How I learned to stop worrying and love the ambien.”
Let’s just push that last one down the page, shall we? Yeah, I have a delete button, but how will I learn from my mistakes if I just make them vanish. Oh, wait, maybe I should…. hmmm.
Anyway, Week 525 on Unconscious Mutterings. I say… and you think…
- Yellow and green :: make blue! (backstory: Years ago, the ziploc TV ads had kids saying “yellow and blue make green,” because if you zipped your sandwich correctly the edge turned green. We started saying “yellow and green make blue” and to this day that is stuck in my head. I can’t remember what I had for breakfast but I can remember this.)
- Smiles :: Fantasy Island. Smiles, everyone, smiles!
- Appear :: disappear
- Clouds :: with diamonds
- Lucy :: in the clouds. With diamonds.
- Dream :: Weaver (Wayne’s World in my head every time I hear the song)
- Picture :: camera
- Station :: gas
- Glass :: window
- Kaleidoscope :: colors
‘Will you walk into my parlour?’ said the Spider to the Fly.
It has been nearly two years since the rings came off.
That thought keeps circling back to me, bubbling up from under everything else. So much has happened, and yet so little, since I altered forever not just my life, but the lives of my family. I don’t like to write about it here so much now, the cathartic release from writing out every last thought just isn’t working for me right now. If you are confused and care enough to find out more, poke around the first half of 2011 for starters or leave me a comment and we can talk about it. I’m to the point of talking about it I suppose.
You know all the witty sayings and ecards and assorted BS that litter facebook and other web sites? Rarely does a day go by that I don’t see this or one almost like it:
Been there, got the t-shirt.
But as long as I’m talking about trust, there is much more to it. There is whether I am a decent, trustworthy person. I used to think I was; I’ve proven myself wrong. I should have a “fuckup” badge that I wear in public just to warn unsuspecting innocents. There is also how much faith and trust I put in other people, and experience has shown to me that (in my case at least) there is nothing but downside to trusting others who say they want to help me. I’ve gone from naive with a bit of a negative tone all the way to just asking people to please go fuck off and leave me alone. Just cut to the chase.
This makes a nice t-shirt, The best way to find out if you can trust somebody is to trust them.
~Ernest Hemingway, but it certainly won’t pay for therapy for the next several years. For that I’m counting on twitter and cheap-ass red wine to somehow get me through this mess. Something must be working, I’m still here, which I really didn’t think would be the case a couple of Christmases ago. Another of the things where talking too much in public is a bad idea. I’ll leave that between me and my future therapist to hash out.
Finally, I’ll leave a picture of my tired ass from tonight:
