This posted started as an email to a good friend of mine... The internet never saved the initial draft but it certainly had me thinking...
Last year I turned 30 and with that came the expected "coming into your own" expectations... Hence, why it was all too expected.
I've never really been good at that: doing what is expected. As much as I haven't been sheltered, I also have been. I've been totally sheltered by the opposite of what my parents would have wanted. and as an anxious result, simply sheltered myself.
I've had a really hard last few years. Not the kind where I feel sad about myself or life but the kind where I seriously don't "get it." I've educated myself and surpassed myself in a strange way... leading to where I never really even "get" myself. I've learned the keys to the tools of normal and function but... I kind of don't care! It worries me at my age because I guess, or I perceive, that I should honestly care. I probably care too much & it comes off as not caring at all (blah. blah. blah.) I'm never really sure. I hate philosophical debates and yet, I've curiously enough drawn myself into one.
I dream a lot about the circus. Last night I had the most vivid dream about a troupe of people bicycling in to this small wooded area with tiny tents that held images of their acts. As they pulled in they started to dress and act as I wrote some poems about the acts... yesterday I woke up and wrote down what I dreamt as if I were taking notes on curing hatred. Today I awoke at 3:03am and dreamt much the same thing and woke up reciting some other poem about the actions of these actors... people... kin...
I suppose I worry that I have "never grow up" syndrome. I have all the classic symptoms: failure to commit to any one thing, failure to use intellect to surpass placement, failure to grow given change... but I never feel that way. I always feel oddly, like I am where I am supposed to be. I'm strangely okay and comfortable never trying to trump my peers. It's the anxiety of that lack of competition that plagues me. I don't even know why. Does any one person really?
As much as I may "want" to, I don't really care that much about achieving above and beyond anyone as I care about watching the circus. It's colorful and real and flawed and perfect. No expects anything beyond the unexpected. Call it lack of inspiration or lack of energy (lord knows, I have seasonal depression which I'd take any day to my supposed inherited bipolar disorder), call it my lack of drive or inspiration, call it my lack of education or will to succeed... I really like the fucking circus. And I don't honestly care what anyone thinks.
If it were a perfect world, I'd live in the forest and no one would ever know me. Yet, that's only my perfect world and other people live in it. Some amazing people do. They inspire me every day. We're all beautifully full of flaws and guffaws and hugs, kisses and pointed fingers. We're full of mistakes and things to say and full of encouragement and discouragement... Hell... nothing exists without the other and thank living for that. That's reality. I love it's lack of predictability and lack of terra firma. I like the excitement of just living to enjoy it. It's critiqued, it's maybe "lazy" to some... but frankly, it's real life. It's underrated. You worry about stock and I'll plan our next potluck for when you're broke. I like my judged life even when I take 4 ativan to relieve myself enough to talk about it. I secretly like my supposed failings. I may still be at the stage of denying it face to face but I LOVE IT. I'm weird. It's fine. I love the weird. I love the normal. I pretty much love everything but the pressure to "get" it. I love you.
So for this new year I promise to be less hard on you. Promise in return, to do the same to your friends, lovers and acquaintances. We all earned it. After all.. who isn't really the bearded lady? Maybe someday, we'll all "come into our own" without trying so damn hard and then we'll all actually know what the fuck that means.
Happy 2013, My Loves!
Last year I turned 30 and with that came the expected "coming into your own" expectations... Hence, why it was all too expected.
I've never really been good at that: doing what is expected. As much as I haven't been sheltered, I also have been. I've been totally sheltered by the opposite of what my parents would have wanted. and as an anxious result, simply sheltered myself.
I've had a really hard last few years. Not the kind where I feel sad about myself or life but the kind where I seriously don't "get it." I've educated myself and surpassed myself in a strange way... leading to where I never really even "get" myself. I've learned the keys to the tools of normal and function but... I kind of don't care! It worries me at my age because I guess, or I perceive, that I should honestly care. I probably care too much & it comes off as not caring at all (blah. blah. blah.) I'm never really sure. I hate philosophical debates and yet, I've curiously enough drawn myself into one.
I dream a lot about the circus. Last night I had the most vivid dream about a troupe of people bicycling in to this small wooded area with tiny tents that held images of their acts. As they pulled in they started to dress and act as I wrote some poems about the acts... yesterday I woke up and wrote down what I dreamt as if I were taking notes on curing hatred. Today I awoke at 3:03am and dreamt much the same thing and woke up reciting some other poem about the actions of these actors... people... kin...
I suppose I worry that I have "never grow up" syndrome. I have all the classic symptoms: failure to commit to any one thing, failure to use intellect to surpass placement, failure to grow given change... but I never feel that way. I always feel oddly, like I am where I am supposed to be. I'm strangely okay and comfortable never trying to trump my peers. It's the anxiety of that lack of competition that plagues me. I don't even know why. Does any one person really?
As much as I may "want" to, I don't really care that much about achieving above and beyond anyone as I care about watching the circus. It's colorful and real and flawed and perfect. No expects anything beyond the unexpected. Call it lack of inspiration or lack of energy (lord knows, I have seasonal depression which I'd take any day to my supposed inherited bipolar disorder), call it my lack of drive or inspiration, call it my lack of education or will to succeed... I really like the fucking circus. And I don't honestly care what anyone thinks.
If it were a perfect world, I'd live in the forest and no one would ever know me. Yet, that's only my perfect world and other people live in it. Some amazing people do. They inspire me every day. We're all beautifully full of flaws and guffaws and hugs, kisses and pointed fingers. We're full of mistakes and things to say and full of encouragement and discouragement... Hell... nothing exists without the other and thank living for that. That's reality. I love it's lack of predictability and lack of terra firma. I like the excitement of just living to enjoy it. It's critiqued, it's maybe "lazy" to some... but frankly, it's real life. It's underrated. You worry about stock and I'll plan our next potluck for when you're broke. I like my judged life even when I take 4 ativan to relieve myself enough to talk about it. I secretly like my supposed failings. I may still be at the stage of denying it face to face but I LOVE IT. I'm weird. It's fine. I love the weird. I love the normal. I pretty much love everything but the pressure to "get" it. I love you.
So for this new year I promise to be less hard on you. Promise in return, to do the same to your friends, lovers and acquaintances. We all earned it. After all.. who isn't really the bearded lady? Maybe someday, we'll all "come into our own" without trying so damn hard and then we'll all actually know what the fuck that means.
Happy 2013, My Loves!
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