mayday

It’s Monday the 1^st of May, 2017. I have a headache, seated awkwardly on a wooden bench at Blue Moon coffee shop, listening to hippie music from the 60s and 70s. It is snowing, then raining, then something in-between, then just cold with wetness gathering up from the cars that drive by. I have to go to my internship tonight to do intakes. My phone will die. I am not looking forward to it, mostly because of the shriek in my skull when light hits my eyes just right, or when a chair is scraped along the floor. I’ve taken medicine. I’ve taken coffee.

The internet isn’t working too well. I am missing the good parts of the book I am reading, because my jaw is clenched too tight, causing a fog that swamps my eyes.

It feels like late fall, but the evening is still bright and tempting, so you crawl into the warmth beneath the covers and console yourself with an extra couple hours of Netflix.

I have determined the future. It looks like another year of the same. Afterwards, I have contemplated and come to no great conclusions. I’d like to travel. I’d like to spend some time in Portugal and the areas of Spain, I was too hasty with.

I’d like to see Southeast Asia before it drowns or burns. I’d like to have someone I feel attached enough to invite. But these are the dreams, for now it’s just head down, assignment, head down, reading, head down, internship, head down side work…

I’m considering giving up the side work. It doesn’t feel worth my time. I’d rather spend it writing. I wonder if I can write while I am in school? I’d like to spend the summer writing, really putting some substance to the frame. I want to get further along in the project, but I also want it rich. I want it buttery, hardy enough that people feel nourished by the writing and not just the story. I want the story to be intriguing, I want it to be so delicately woven that people end up rereading for the pieces they missed. I want the characters to cause aches in all the right places. I will save the desirous pleasures for later characters. I am too ahead of myself with certain areas. The more I slow down, the better the writing can be, but I need time and energy to give lovingly to the project and that is hard to balance.

I am intrigued by this world. It’s mayday after all. I should be protesting, but I’m grinding my teeth instead.

I watched Thirteen Reasons Why, and though the story was completely different, it did a lot of the things I want my writing to do. It made me want to re-watch it when I finished, to see what I had missed.

Before the retreat into my bed covers this weekend, I had actually been quite social. I had last week off from coffee shop job, so I was able to hang with some folks –some new peoples from Augsburg, some old people from high school. I haven’t seen any of my morris friends in a bit.

But it was weird how it was simultaneously comforting to be social, and also worrisome. I felt more human, more involved, part of something other than the world in my head I have created… but I also felt like I knew it couldn’t last…like my period of socialness… was doomed to let someone down. Maybe my retreat was an attempt to make sure it wasn’t me. This weekend I invited the isolation. I really didn’t want to talk to anyone. The headaches made it easy.

couple weeks in a row here... its a roll

Sunday, 5 PM. What have you done today?

Well mostly I've been sleeping. I also read a couple chapters in the Parable of the Sower by Octavia E Butler which is good. It is the combination of dark and spiritual that I am going for in certain chapters of my book. Yesterday I spent some time writing part 3.2 and I went home thinking about it. I like to write dialogue scenes and fill them in with details later. Anyway... I slept in too late and stayed up too ate watching the new Iron Fist show on Netflix. I did laundry last night and the motor on the dryer went out halfway through the first load so I had to air dry all my stuff. I am hoping it won't smell all week, but I also hope we can get the dryer fixed so I don't have to do this again. I finally shaved and cleaned the bathroom. 

Shaving revealed that my jaw actually is swollen from the blow I took in the tub the other day. It doesn't necessarily hurt on its own, it doesn't hurt when I chew or talk, I have the full range of motion BUT it is bigger on one side. Gives my face a sort of off kilter look if you look too close. It still hurts in a very dull tightened way. I will probably end up getting TMJ and having jaw pain my whole life. This is how it starts, slip in the shower when you haven't slept all night.

I am pretty sick of work. We had to hire a bunch of new people, but some of our January cats are becoming shift leads now, so I don't have to worry too much. Maybe quit this summer? What will I do for money? 

I am pretty sick of my classes this semester. 
In field class I am learning nothing. In research methods I am learning nothing new, but because it is online there is this feeling like I have to pay attention to the details... in group class I feel like I haven't learned anything from day one... this week I facilitate a group discussion (wow). In my favorite class -which is Friday night, this week we covering substance and trauma.  Our small group is  doing PTSD as an in-depth thing and we read this book that probably won't bear much fruit. 
I like that class, but I would like it more if it were every day or a few times a week. 

I basically haven't seen anyone but Illy (last week) and my family (also last week). It isn't that I am intentionally avoiding people, just not reaching out and I must have trained all of them not to do the same... I am pretty happy with my isolated little world most of the time, but in terms of life I don't feel satisfied at all. There is nothing big. There are no new changes. Nothing I am working towards except slow progress on the book, and boring school. 

I need to pay taxes, fill out FAFSA, have my car looked at, pay some bills, register for classes, find a new internship, finish the semester with whatever the typical grade is... and move on with my life. 
Summer is two classes I think -no work, no internship (or at least less). 
I am thinking I will do a lot of writing and editing. Also thinking I may have to move if my internship is somewhere else... I am pretty sure I want something more clinical -counseling related. I would probably learn more in a hospital setting, or as a case worker... but I don't think I want those kinds of jobs in the long run so...
Maybe if I interned at a hospital I could meet a doctor or a nurse who would pay my bills after they paid off medical school. THAT'S the PLAN right THERE. Gold digger. 

This week I am having dinner with my Mom and Brothers to celebrate our birthdays. The monotony of life is not comforting to me, having to celebrate everything twice... The yearly rituals that mean nothing to me. New Years, birthday, birthday, birthday, birthday, birthday birthday, Easter, Easter, birthday, Mothers day, birthday, Fathers day, birthday, random american celebrations, Halloween, Thanksgiving, Thanksgiving, birthday, Christmas. Christmas. Repeat. What else is there?  If my beliefs or passion were tied to any of these things maybe they'd be more meaningful... but I don't care. When I was a kid I thought it was sad that Witnesses and others didn't celebrate birthdays and christmas... now I think they are on to something. 
I've been thinking about how that was the same with work when I worked... it was the same cycle of events and traditions and to some extent they felt more meaningful because we were doing it for the kids, but at the same time I was always happy when they were over. Celebrations shouldn't offer relief when they are over. 
In my book all the believers do daily rituals, they are involved in regular celebrations, they have cities for pilgrimage etc. But their daily existence is tied to these things. They offer community support, they obligate people to feel involved and when people aren't involved there is an assumption of something being wrong. I often think "How would an introvert feel in this world?" and get a little squeamish on their behalf. 

I did some of my homework and I am not sure how much more there is to do. Its like fill in the blank work at this point. I need to do some reading with books I didn't bring, but I am not worried about it at all. I also need to prep for my next series of big assignments, but when I read their description they didn't scare me. Do a family assessment based on a  chapter of a book... ok easy enough. 
I am more worried that as things build up to the end I will just lose more and more interest. I already asked for a few days off from work -assuming I will need the time for intern interviews and writing papers. Seems like it has been way too easy this semester. I always did better when I had more classes to keep me on edge. 

thats your boring update for the week. 

Oh hey,

When was the last time you posted on here kid?

Its the 12th of March, a Sunday fun day, filled with homework and the peculiar mist of waking up too late. It is snowing hard and I am listening to Joanna Newsom and wishing I were such a poet. I've been editing and rewriting the same poem on immigration for a month, it never feels right but I was thinking eventually I might post it for public consideration. The issue is that they are other people's stories so it feels a little weird to discuss openly. -At the same time, totes necessary in a time of pushing...  earlier a couple of guys were having a conversation about the world and it made me really angry immediately -and I assumed they were not very bright, when probably I just don't know them. 
I just got done reading about self care and laughing at the honesty the authors suggested about counselors being narcissistic and believing no one is smart enough or understanding enough to help them. I think of the way my friend and I don't reach out for each other enough, often until we are falling apart. Its a pattern in my life, I reach when there is something concrete enough to get a simple response, and hold back when there is anything complicated enough that I need to consider it first for a long long while. 
You'd think with four shots of espresso and a caffeine pill I'd have some highways in my mind, but it feels very murky. I think I need a new regiment that might include a coffee maker that turns on automatically. That would be a nice way to wake up... the smell of deliciousness gliding across the room. 
Last week in class there was a moment when we were talking about mental disorders and somebody said something about "losing a year of your life" and I was suddenly sad. I feel like a good portion of my life is lost by not engaging, but at the same time, I also feel overwhelmed with other people... feel too smart or too understanding (see above). On the way here I was thinking about how there is this idea that you just choose someone and make it work, but I think of all the people I've met, which one was I supposed to have made my life with? Which one did I spend too much time with, so that I didn't notice another (the opportunity cost right?). Which one is waiting patiently for me, rather than reaching to choose me? Is this another wasted year lost to excuses or is this just a recognition of reality -of which depressed people often have a better understanding.  
I've been playing EU4 and it gives me a lot of sustained enjoyment, prolonged entertainment, lost to some other reality. It's not as fulfilling as writing, but to write you have to have a highway and a good cup of coffee early in the morning, and I've been staying up too late playing computer games to have either. It was also spring break at MCTC so I didn't have a paying job this week and I really liked that. It was far less stressful and I am relatively ahead of most of my homework just in time for spring break at Augsburg (this week).  Which means little, because I will still be reading homework, and I will be working at MCTC and I will be at my internship all week... so a pretty busy week coming... but I have the weekend off (I guess that is my break).  
I suppose if I gave a true update it would go something like -I haven't seen most of my friends in weeks and I don't know if that is my fault or if I care.  I should get together with my family more often, but we are all busy. The weather sucks. I don't really want to kick it with my roommates but I am glad the price is so low. I am sick of my internship and would probably stop going if it weren't required. I am sick of being a barista too.  More and more I think about how I wouldn't mind being a college professor and I am sort of hoping that I have the opportunity to pursue that because most of the "social work" jobs don't seem very appealing. I'd write up some curriculum and do a lot of processing with the students, I'd challenge them personally and intellectually and I'd offer more feedback than I am getting. I'd be able to live on a small salary even if it was like 30,000 again, I could make that work for a bit and then look into more opportunities as they come or work on my book and finish it before I am 40. I'd learn Spanish. I'd volunteer for political things and go to a meditation group. I'd take time for travel: Europe, South East Asia and the islands, South America again (Brazil, Argentina, Chile, Bolivia, Peru), West Africa, South Africa, eventually Australia...  and the middle east if things ever settle down. I'd maybe have a family?  Do I need to leave Minnesota to find something worth living for? Do I want to keep living this life, in this world, for how long? 

Book Update

Well obviously it has been hard to write, but sometimes I do a little editing. I still really like the concepts and enjoy the process but it gets difficult to read the same passages over and over -they start to feel too simplistic, but the most feedback I've gotten is that things are too complicated, so I don't want to overwhelm. Often I think about how I want to add more description but that comes the least easy to me. Description seems difficult to do with the format I've chosen. I also think about how I will probably need to cut a lot of stuff and how -at this point I am pretty unwilling to do so.  When I compare my concept to something like A Song of Ice and Fire or the Century Trilogy it doesn't seem so crazy. But comparing it to a regular book, it just seems absurd. Too many characters, too much movement... the world itself is a character in world building epics-I need to keep that perspective that it isn't about the individuals (though they anchor or move the piece), it is about the human condition, the world we have created. That is why I like part 2 and 3 the most because they have the most expressive details about the new worlds... part 1 is too much too quick.  It could be 10 books on its own. It would be the thing to jettison in its entirety. Same with 4 and 5 SO FAR... but 5 should serve to really ground the whole thing in philosophy and mythology. 2 and 3 in power dynamics and systems. 1 in what the fuck?   4 in perception. 
Nobody gets any of that so far... its a lot to unpack. People have this idea of a simple story. It is not that. 

At christmas tonight  my Dad brought up that I used to sleep walk when I was younger. He thought of a few humorous times I guess. James said he remembered me sleep walking numerous times when we lived in an apartment and shared a room. He said they weren't humorous, they were scary, and when he said it he looked scared. Dad asked him what, and maybe James was just covering for me in the moment, but it looked more like it was something he didn't want to share because it was painful or horrifying.
I remember having a lot of nightmares at that age. On a few occasions I remember my emotions or my imagination getting too far ahead of the rest of me, and not being able to calm down. Some of my more shameful stuff was probably beginning at that age, but I don't have a clue what he is referring to.
There are a lot of things in my life that I keep secret because I wish they hadn't happened... there are things right now that I wish weren't happening and worry me regularly, but it terrifies me to think I am not even aware of all of the things that are being kept secret.

Yuckers

Im fiening hardcore lately. Thursty - is how the kids put it.  Every where I look,  and way too much on the internet. 

There is a girl at work who smiles slightly like she is hiding a secret... likely the secret is that she can tell I am staring.

I simultaneously enjoy the widening of my senses, the desire for sensuality... and hate hate hate it. I feel lost... and when I think too much about what anything means it just points towards danger or the very least an internal feeling of  humiliation. Working at mctc makes me really aware of the subtle line of eye lids and smiles... it's like you give a person just a minute of your time, smile shyly and suddenly they seem all flush every time they show up.  Still... I'm getting old. I am officially 33 and I think about how a younger version of myself had painted some idea of completeness by now... or settledness at least.   I think about how I judged my cousins for never dating, and now I am aware that I am grateful to have some context for what it means to be 33 and single.  My parents are getting pushy. .. and I understand it.  I understand that they see me acting helpless and want to offer advice, or even set something up. But they don't know the whole story. Maybe it's easier than I make it seem. Maybe as simple as saying "hi" but the intention to be compatible doesn't make you compatible, and a beautiful aesthetic doesn't make you beautiful. 

On age:

My new coworker said something along the lines of "yeah, I bet we're about the same, age, how old are you?" And then reacted strongly when I told him. Then he told me he just turned 25 last month. So at least on the boyish awkwardness I'm still kicking it live. I was thinking about that difference... that is a senior in high school vs a third grader... yeah we are probably the same age maturity wise... cuz I am still a third grader. 

I had a headache that grew steadily all day. I woke up I the middle of the night and my room felt like it was choking my brain cells. I don't know if it's the room or myself.  I opened a window, turned the fan on high, opened the door. Now it's cold but the air feels clean.  

I took some headache meds, switched pillows and drank some water.  It's not nearly as painful.

I need to pay my health insurance bill asap. Tomorrow is the last day of 2016.

A friend gave me some feedback on my writing.  I need a partner in so many ways.

Jesse is at a folk festival and will probably have a great celebration. It makes me envious because i don't think I am capable of that. I don't want to be around people but I want to feel special and loved AND I want to love someone enough that their presence doesn't annoy me when I have headaches or when the pressure to have fun is going to outweigh the possibility for fun. 

I don't want to go back to work or school or internships. I'm just starting to remember what my mind is like without the stress.  

One of my classmates is naked sans sister? Or cousin? 

Wondering if I should give up Facebook. And Instagram and YouTube and all of it really.  When was the last time I was genuinely happy with my life?

Had a dream yesterday in which b was 2-2.5 months pregnant.  She looked like she was 20 years old, and had cut her hair.   Her niece was about 8-9 though...

Update on life: End of the First Semester of Grad School and other boring things

Well it is 5:24 on a snowstorm weekend in December. We are just shy of the holiday week, and I will probably spend the next three weeks reading, writing, playing computer games and doing all the fun things I did all last year.

I am in Grad School, or rather, I just completed my first semester and I am in the time between the next set of classes. 
My initial thoughts were that I wasn't learning a lot and was often irritated by the poor design. I regularly considered that I could be as equally good Teacher as my profs, and I am still fairly sure that is the case. However I have also grown sympathetic to their position of being an adjunct in a stupid situation.
Overall classes were easy. The biggest stresses were the assignments, not necessarily because they were hard but because it was difficult to manage my time and motivation. The small forum assignments were actually harder sometimes because they felt like busy work, where as the big papers felt like a fun challenge.   In general I really appreciate my classmates, but not necessarily because they challenge my thinking, more just that they share values of service. They are good people.  
The design of the program and the direction still irks me. It is one of the things I want to address if I continue in the MSW forum (the student representation). I just think there are better uses of a person's time. How about getting people involved in things? Why cram their heads in books searching for obscure bullshit if you can have them in a meeting making changes?
Why are programs not coordinating with each other? The BSW forum and MSW forum  at augsburg don't talk... why? Where is the macro approach to THIS system?
I am going ahead with the clinical side, but still very wide-eyed about macro systems. In general I feel like I am probably at the top of the class in understanding -but many of my peers have experience that I can learn a lot from. Also I talk, and they don't always.

Internship, sometimes feels like a joke. It is really difficult to feel productive in such a small role. I want to make changes, but don't feel I have the authority. I want to work with people, not tip toe around the edges pretending I know what I am doing. Its not a good  collaborative effort, and that makes me sad. Maybe they need more push to be groupy... maybe they need less distinction between admin and service.  Maybe the thing on the whole, needs a push to be more change oriented and less service. Anyway, its a lot of reaching out for more information, and not necessarily having the connection to make change happen. Part of it is that I like my coworkers/supervisors but I don't necessarily respect their leadership abilities. Also I am not getting paid, but working the equivalent of 10 weeks for free... so thats cool. 

What else... coffee shop. Its.. ugg. I don't know -I feel like the reason I work there is to have access to faces. To feel like there are possibilities. and a tiny amount of spending money. I am not necessarily getting along with my coworkers. They are nice, but I don't feel they know me or care, and I don't care to know them really either.

Roommates... same deal. 

Other than that it is my own thoughts. I feel pretty disconnected from friends and loved ones... not the same as the last few years when I couldn't relate, but rather just don't have the time. People are in their lives, I am in mine. Very little meaningful overlap... plus it is winter. So, even though I am sort of positive and hopeful about the way I can impact the world, I am less connected to it. 

Also fuck trump, am I right?  

I spent a lot of time thinking about possibilities, and then wonder why things don't fall into place more easily. Like so many of the things I want, or think might make me happier/connected/satisfied are actually very simple... but the moment I consider making them happen they seem totally out of reach. Like the beautiful barista at this coffee shop, and all the people who are so pretty they are hard to look at... how does meaningful connection actually happen?

My car breaking down, and buying a new one. That is how it happens, when life thrusts you a situation and you begrudgingly choose a new one. 

Sometimes wonder if I should just run away again... live on the beach. Write a book. Be a bad person. 

Update on life

So let's see total update on life (Multidimensional)


Age: 32
Sex and Gender: Male and mostly masculine, missing my hair.
Living situation: Living with two roommates who I rarely talk to, however its an improvement from my last place, and I like the location in Saint Paul (despite the drives, and the longing for familiar spots in Minneapolis).
Health: Mostly good, but not getting much exercise and not eating healthily. Do not have health insurance.
Family: Fine, but hard to maintain connection with lack of time.
Friends: Similar, mostly old friends from High School and College. Not doing very well at maintaining relationships with new people I am meeting, nor with older friends/coworkers who I value but don't have a shared point of references with currently. Still talking to ex in tiny little tidbits on messenger regularly.
Relationship: I don't even have a real crush. It's awful. I feel like I have no prospects, no people I am interested in. I am on okcupid and tinder and neither are doing anything to increase my likely hood of meeting anyone. Despite other stresses, this is actually the area I feel the worst about.
Work: Working in Minneapolis. Sometimes I like the job because I get to see so many faces. It can be a stressful job, and I appreciate about half of my coworkers... but the real perk of the job is getting to see all the faces, wonder at who they are and where they are headed. I also see the people that are the closest I have to crushes there. Other than that, the job is repetitive and simple, and only sometimes anxiety producing.
Grad School: There are elements I like about it, I like learning, I like discussions. But I don't like a lot of aspects of my program, I find them poorly designed and not necessarily a good fit for me or my lifestyle. I've considered what it would look like  to drop out, or cut back to part time, but neither option seems fitting for what I want to accomplish with my life.
Internship: similarly poorly designed experience, but helpful in the sense that I enjoy some of the work, and the things I am seeking out (resources etc) are helpful to my understanding of the systems that affect immigrants and participants. Some of the people at the internship are cool, I feel like the time constraints really keep anything serious friendship from forming.
Hobbies: If I broaden that definition to "what are you doing outside of school/work?" I am watching a lot of youtube, occasionally some netflix and sometimes sneaking in a book. I am not writing. I occasionally draw something. But surfing the internet and youtube is kind of the big thing.
Coping: Some positive and negative coping strategies in place. Not sure what I can do, or should do to fix.
Things I am thinking a lot about:
State of the world (why is it so fucked?)
US elections (Trump)
My inability to do anything politically worthwhile
My low level of comfort around people/ low motivation to engage
My regrets related to past relationships and not being able to support people
(newest Lacey's wedding, oldest Krystin, Chris, Ali)
How poorly designed everything is, and whether I need to be in macro to fix shit.
How poorly organized my life is.
How easy it would be to fix shit if people just stepped out of the way.
How I want to be a writer, but don't believe I am capable of succeeding/also that I want to be involved in something more social as well.
It would be difficult to have a relationship, a family, or kids right now... and yet I don't see my life being very worthwhile with out these components.
How I want more time to play video games, read books, and write.
How I am mostly dissatisfied with my relationships, and my social skills (likely because of my anxiety), and that if I got out of my own way, I might be more happy.

Specter of October

Its a gray sky day, the orange leaves accent the abysmal with their fire, but as the light fades it's easy to feel the gloom. 

It's easy to imagine the warmth of another person, pressing their fingers into the too tightly held flesh of my shoulders, it's easy to imagine my own fingers interlaced in her hair, as familiar as the warmth rising from the cup of coffee I sip, the smell of some long lost home. 

It's easy to think of the past, with regret, with adoration, with longing for the laughter, that heartfelt jubilance that comes with knowing someone well enough to enjoy their laughter, their knowing eyes smiling back. 

It's easy to recognize the changes, the distances, the unshared experiences like a mountain path winding back and forth making that which is permitted (welcomed even) too formidable to grovel-through. 

It's easy to know what is missing, easy to feel the sway, the drifting nervousness that accompanies all ventures when one is as anchor-less as I. 

and it's easy to smirk at other people's attempts to cut through the cloud that binds me, that swirls and drapes, and shadows all light, masks me with indecision, marks me inconsiderate, and fragments my strengths as the anxiety of distance permeates each capillary, bloodied me other. 

I guess all I am saying is, I didn't need to dress myself up to be a ghost this halloween. 

A thought on empathy and politics

I think I just figured out why anti-abortion positions never made any sense to me.

With almost all things, i tend to review them through as much of an empathetic lens as possible. For instance war doesn't make sense because -hello humans killing humans... Drug laws, why put someone in prison for hurting themselves? 

But abortion... Who are you empathizing with? Do you remember being a zygote? A tadpole embryo? A tiny otter skinned chipmunk looking thing? A hairless pygmy marmoset the size of an apple? 

Vs the mother, dont you clearly remember a time when you were terrified and overwhelmed, and feeling like you just can't handle shit? Why don't you empathize with that? 

I just don't get it... To me the person isn't arguing based on anything real, except this abstract idea that has no basis in reality (the completely unknown of what could be) or they just want to dictate how people should live their lives. 

Some will say, oh but all that potential is wasted, but then why not focus on the potential we are wasting all around us?

Some will say, you got to protect the vulnerable, but then why not focus on the vulnerable all around us?

Some will say, you got to protect life, but then why not protect the life around us? 

I don't get it. 

Bonded communication.

I've been feeling stressed and a little needy lately. It's the work/intern/school life.  It makes me want someone to hold, or who will hold me back. But I hate the idea of all the work to get to know someone, I want it to be easy.

In the dream she was pregnant. (this particular ex gave birth a few months ago, so I don't think that is likely) She was many months pregnant, like my coworker who is due in early

November.  She swayed from hip to hip, not quite uncomfortable but very aware of the weight. Her stomach and chest heavier than she would have liked. We talked. I don't know what the words were, I was too busy watching her reactions. She seemed like her mind was somewhere else, and yet I was fully in tune with her. She kept her eyes elsewhere, while I traced her newly formed curves, while I wanted to place my hands on her stomach, and her back and her hips, and the skin of her arms. 

She wasn't unaware of this, but she saw me getting sleepy, she understood I wasn't fully myself, that I was wanting. I fell asleep on her couch, but when I woke it had become a full mattress. Not the mattress she slept with her husband on, but a guest in her home. He was coming home soon and she was only a little worried about my being present. She talked again, and I swayed in tune with every singe motion, every feeling and thought. I didn't need to listen, and she knew it. She kept her eyes distant but she couldn't help but smile out of the corner of her mouth. She knew, she felt it like a tug on her, and she didn't mind when I moved closer. But I mentioned it. I said I'm sorry for invading your space and she played along, though she knew I wasn't, and she wasn't either. 

As she continued to talk I slowly moved closer until my arms were around her. And she didn't pull away, she just rubbed the outside of my arms and hands which attended to her, like she knew it was natural, like she understood it was as it should be. But it didn't make her happier, like it had me.  It was just what it was.

And she walked away to her room to attend something else while I folded the blanket and waited for her husband to come home. 

When she came back into the room she was surprised, but hid it quickly. There was something about wrapping it up so soon, but she looked back towards the windows again, waiting for him. 

And i knew it was time to leave, to wake up. 

The glow

Pretty sure I just figured out why that beautiful professor was glowing. Preggers.    Still beautiful. 

First impressions

It's 3:08 am and I can't get back to sleep. My mind races from one topic to the next: Hmong culture project, how to facilitate a meeting, the problems with Augsburg, the problems with nh, the strangeness of people and their inability to design things functionally.

I am operating on too little information, and it leaves my mind to make judgements about the facilitation. Perhaps In the long run it will all be ok, but I'm amazed how little has been prepared to make it so. 

Obsessing

I am not sure if it is healthy or not, but i am suddenly obsessing and overthinking random things again.  

I haven't thought about my book in a week, before that it was also a long gap.

But I have been thinking about words and their meanings, and how best to use them to create social awareness and acceptance... And I have spent too much time arguing about that in my head.

And I have been thinking of this one professor lady at work who takes my words away, and how between the two of us we seem really dumb, but perhaps it's a mutual attraction... And I don't know her name or anything about her so it could all go bad super easy... But I sometimes dream about her. And seeing her brightens my day... And I have to practice words and phrases around her so that I don't get overwhelmed and ignore her - as a defense mechanism. 

Notes from moving.

I reserved a truck for 10 am. So I woke up at 8. Moved 6 items in 12 minutes. Ate fruit. Showered. It's 8:30. Still need to move my bed stuff which is the biggest item... But damn my estimates for timing are off. I have the van for 4 hours. If I load it with boxes I might make a separate trip to my moms house. 

I usually don't have a lot of cognitive dissonance in my life, it's easy to just say "things are complex, bigger than a simplified explanation or opinion."

But when it comes to food, there is still a lot of anxiety and weirdness. Today I experienced this at Leeann Chin, because I read that their fried rice uses mushroom soy sauce. I don't eat their fried rice, but it reminded me that I like

Mushroom soy sauce even though the idea of it gives me  a ridiculous  amount of dissonance verging on physical discomfort.  So odd. 

An apology story

My brother and I were talking about his summer, and about his going back to work. My step mother chimes in about how irritating the trainings are (valid for most who have esperienced them) we agree for a minute and then she names someone specific, a trainer who did a worship of "courageous conversations (concerning race)." She isn't opposed to this in theory, but her perspective of the workshop is that participants should still feel safe, in the "courageous" space. And she alludes to an experience she has discussed with me before where a group of staff of color berated a white man after he asked a question, basically insinuating the man was racist or being racist in the moment- it isn't clear which because she doesn't remember his question, or the tone, only the angry people of color who embarrassed the white man. 

She brings this up, and I role my eyes because it isn't the focus of our conversation and we have different perspectives anyway which she knows, so really she is bringing this up just to assert her whitevictimhood, but she asks me if I rolled my eyes and I reply yes, honestly and go back to having the conversation. She feels cut out and remains silent. Later she complains to my father and all the while my own tension grows to the point where I feel pretty guilty, not because I'm wrong, but because I've hurt her feelings.

Before dinner I decide I'm going to apologize and I do, in front of everyone though not trying to make a show, just to acknowledge I was rude. 

She accepts it and we go on with our days.

I consider my desire to keep the peace, my desire to maintain a good relationship, to keep things going- and I know I've made the right decision.

But I also know I wasn't wrong.

I wasn't wrong in the same way that baby boomers needed to roll their eyes at their own parents when they said something racist or sexist. 

It's not that I think I can win her over, though I'm sure we will have a hundred more conversations. It's that I think she should feel shame and guilt for propagating bullshit in the world, for being fear driven and hypocritical, and victim blaming, and claiming martyrdom and yet I value the peace...

Material and Non-material Goals and Desires

Not that I believe in "the secret" or anything, but this year has helped me to recognize some of the goals I have for the future... So rather than assuming I'm gonna get in a car accident now that I've put a ton of money into my car, I figured I should do this. 

I would like my car to last three to four more years, after which I should be in a relatively good place to make payments on a new one (assuming I find employment after grad school).

Employment at a place where I can have some work life balance, but also feel useful and enjoy my job.

An apartment after gradschool, honestly it would be nice to own, but even being able to afford an apartment that is relatively decent would be good. It is looking likely that I will be living with roommates throughout gradschool because I just can't justify living alone when it costs me an extra 2-3 hundred a month, that's three grand a year I could be saving or paying school debt with.

-so in the meantime a decent low rent place with some peeps maybe a little closer to the river.

Some new pairs of pants, even used without holes or ink stains. Gonna need it for work anyway. 

Gradschool- friends, maybe a girl friend. Some assignments and lessons that make me think. An internship where I get to interact with fun people at a good location.

Hobbies:

-Finish volume 1 before the end of gradschool and publish. That's two years  to write three and a half parts and edit the whole thing. 

Once it is done, I'll feel like I accomplished something, and can take my time on the sequel because already I can tell no one is interested... Existential science fiction is not a popular genre. 

-Start painting again. Maybe make a graphic novel of one of the stories.

-Do some work on the computer editing videos. 

-find a creative group of some sort... So that I don't feel on my own with these sorts of projects.

-have a desk/creative space. 

-practice Spanish occasionally- maybe internship will help. 

Consider Southeast Asia as a honeymoon spot if I ever find anyone. 

Old goals to keep around:

Gramps video

Poetry book

Cd

Clay sculptures

Painting in a gallery

6/7 continents ain't bad.

Been one of those weeks

It hasn't been brutal or anything but a gradual chipping away. Some how I misplaced or lost my iPod and headphones... Don't know where they went.  My car has been in the ship all weekend and the total is over a grand. Between school and rent another thousand. No luck on a new place so far. Cleaned the bathroom for over an hour, it's already dirty. Humid and hot out, flies and stickiness. 

Car

Hi, my car might die, either way it sounds like it's going to be expensive. Thanks 2016, you're the best. 

On a lighter note, Russ is writing a giantess/vore dark comedy. 

And I am basically ready to print rough draft #2. And send it to people.

Twice this week I have tried to go to bed early by limiting my caffeine intake during the day. Both times I was still up till dawn,  both times the following day was miserable with a migraine. 

Never stop drinking coffee. Or quit the beast forever. 

Today today

I went to bed late last night, like 5 am this morning... I was working on some additions to the book - which has felt very slug like lately. Basically I am trying to add in more description and help the story not jump so much, but it requires a lot of intention, and a little less creative abstract spark.

I woke up to a dream in which I had become a serial murderer and committed suicide rather than being punished or rewarded for my efforts. It was a weird very vivid dream, and I remember carving through my skin and opening up the veins in my wrist.  Also not knowing whether I should lock the door (certain death) or leave it unlocked and allow the possibility that someone might find me and save my life. 

When I woke up, I thought about how fucked up the dream was but felt attracted both by the vivid fantasy of it, and also by the sense of direction. Even in the dream I wasn't necessarily happy with the choice but I was following through with something, I was hurting people, I didn't want to excuse my actions, but I didn't want to pretend like I was someone else... I was just doing it. 

I tried to go back to sleep and succeeded, and stayed in bed till nearly  three pm. 

I was listening to best friends forever while I walked around the lake. The two girls sound so confident in their strangeness. Like "this is who I am!" Even if that makes me weird, love this!

Then I was watching all these people play Pokemon go, and considered whether I would enjoy that, meeting new people that way or whether I would meet them, have awkward conversation and then wish I could get away. 

Then after I was walking I was thinking a lot about the people I've basically rejected out of my introversion. How I've chosen to suppress some of my empath traits, or maybe reacted by covering them up and finding ways to block them... Like the opposite of aspergers.  

While I was thinking about it, I realized that there are tons of little social cues that I pick up on but completely choose to ignore or reject or even get frustrated with. 

Then I was scrolling through Facebook and I saw pictures of a person's birthday party for their kid, and thought -why the fuck would anyone choose to do that? Like have a big party and invite lots of people and be responsible for everyone's happiness...

Which made me wonder if I had kids would I make them socially awkward by having all these social hang ups. By questioning people's complacency and their buying in behaviors, their choice to play Pokemon Go, their choice to buy juice drinks and go to a trendy yoga studio and brag about these things. Their yuppy life, or their artsy life, or their model life, or their sporty life, or their activist life, or their social work life.

So anyway I guess the point of this is that I've been feeling very different from other people lately. Been feeling like I understand their behaviors and responses, but don't relate to them- and definitely don't feel they understand or relate to mine, or maybe that they see it but don't share/support it. 

A rant I was gonna post to Facebook.

It's irritating how within social studies, one field of study conflicts with another field so readily.

Political movements being a great example, where for messaging sake people on all sides outright lie, because psychology shows us that it's better to give a simple and coherent message than to share too much and complicate the matter, in this way you can rally people to your side and get your way. History reminds us that it was always more complex, that it was a lie with some truth but that may not have lead to the same conclusion if you had all the facts (which you never will! So support your argument better than the other people). Meanwhile sociology wants to look at and address the  underlying principles which are likely not even being acknowledged, economics in theory should also be doing that but in the US it is just trying to find a way to capitalize on it, and psychology reminds us that some people are feeling empowered by the struggle while others may grow indifferent or even become traumatized. Which some of those political scientists are banking on.

So what's the right answer? 

If you answered: 

A) All of the above 

B) some of the above 

C) a lot more than all of the above. 

You're probably right, but your test scores really don't matter after a few years anyway because Pearson just wanted to get rich so they sold the poorly written study materials text books and tests to your district and state... Except social studies isn't tested so really they just cut most of this stuff and told your kid that George Washington and Abe Lincoln were super honest and the US only fights good wars. 

 

People on the comments sections are bothering me.

Truths

It was 90+ and humid today. I walked the lake and then did some editing.  My wrist hurt so by 5:30 I was back home and watching Orange is the new black.

All I've been doing for weeks is watching Netflix. 

On the way home I was struggling... The other day I didn't go to this event I was interested in because I didn't want to interact with people.  Like specifically social anxiety, kept me from doing something, and on the way home I was trying to think of any person who I would feel comfortable hanging out with at the moment and couldn't think of anyone. 

Go to a movie? Sure.

Hang out? I don't think so.

I was in a terrible mood, already in pain, uncomfortable because of the heat... But I was considering how often I feel uncomfortable these days when I am interacting with people. How one by one I've cut people out of my life, and then continued to push them away. 

Sometimes I am aware that it is temporary or there is a cause, but not always. 

Lately I've been wanting to write more than just my book, but I can't really do anything without pain. the doctor says it will heal if I allow it to. 

One of the things I've been wanting to write is about the feelings of self pity, and anger I have towards some past relationships. I don't like where my heart is at, it seems pretty and short with people. It doesn't want to give.

 But I think I have stalled on writing about it because I want to honor the true feelings, and I am not sure what is what. 

Am I angry because I feel left out and left behind?   Am I angry because I allowed myself to invest in people who never fully invested back? Am I angry because I don't have a purpose right now, and id see the world from a better perspective if I did?  Am I angry because a few years ago I felt so proud, happy and lucky and now I feel so useless and cynical?  Am I angry because other people let me down or because I can't figure out a way to help myself up? 

What is it in me that is acting out all this hurt? And what am I supposed to do? And how? 

My inner self seems to be matching with the world.  I called my mom last week and told her how close I was to depression, she was saying that there were all these dark things in my book that matched the world right now, and I said sure, but they match me right now. 

I feel hopeless. Needy. Useless. And I don't know what I have to contribute that won't make me feel worse. I see the world in a way that makes me feel like no matter what I do, it will never be enough. And it makes me want to carve out a chunk for myself and shut the world off.  At the same time, I am so angry that people do that. That we collectively have decided to do that. 

I am unhappy and the only thing I can think to change that is a relationship, but some days I can barely stand my own company let alone someone else. I also keep assuming that in a few months when school starts it will be better... New people, a structure, a purpose... And yeah maybe I will meet someone. But I've been telling myself these things for so long... And I feel exactly the same way I felt in high school, more experience, more sure that I am capable.... But for what?

I'm sick of myself. 

By dictation

Using a dictation device in order to write this note find out shortly why. One of the super annoying parts of using this dictation app is that it doesn't do punctuation even long pauses and end words that would clearly end the sentence are not recognized. So the app is super frustrating in that you end up having to go in every couple minutes or seconds even and type in punctuation or clear up and define words and when you're using it specifically because you shouldn't be typing that is definitely annoying.

I have experienced this pain before the first time I remember it being this bad I had just typed a blog that was probably a few hours long on an iPad and I remember thinking that the force of the tapping on the screen over and over was what had caused the pain. I knew that it was coming on while I was typing but it was easy to ignore for a little while but afterwards I couldn't write for a week.  That first time I believe I was still traveling and so I had a lot to occupy my mind however writing is a huge part of travel for me and so I remember even then feeling really uncomfortable with the idea that I wouldn't be able to write for a while.

So the pain seems to come on from the lower part of my wrist. When I have my palm face up it's the side that is closest to me and what happens is it's not a particular angle or movement that causes the pain it's just present.From that point the pain radiates throughout mywrist and then into my hands to myfingers and then down the opposite way through my forearm basically to my elbow. When my palm is facedown the pain emanates from the spot in the center of my wrist and branches towards my knuckles and about halfway down my arm.Now because the pain does not come on do to any particular movement it is at first very easy to ignore. But over time the repeated movements start to increase the pain which becomes incredibly distracting.

So then what begins as a dull ache when I'm typing becomes a sort of all encompassing irritation that won't go away. In contrast to pain that I felt and other times or places which has made it impossible to think, this pain seems more able to stifle my thoughts in a way that keeps them from continuing onward but not quite making it impossible to think. For example yesterday I spent three hours typing the same three or four paragraphs over and over and over again. At the end of that slow progress I was happy with what I produced but I felt that the effort it took in order to accomplish such a small feat, was not worth the effort and that it removed the joy from the process.

The pain continued even after I was through typing, and left me in a state a kin to despair because with the mental anguish I felt alongside the actual pain I became very worried that I would not be able to continue writing. When I consider many of the joys in my life thus far they in many regards require a bit of physical dexterity as well as the mental capacity to present well formed ideas.

Consider drawing or painting or writing or any sort of use of a computer as examples. When I considered the level of anguish I felt concerning this new predicament, I became aware of the immediacy that the pain caused. At other points in my life I have often reflected on the way symptoms of mental illness such as depression can narrow a person's perspective or understanding of their life, and I found that the immediacy of this pain significantly narrowed my worldview as well. The extent of this narrowing was hard to define and even somewhat hard to consider given the pessimistic outcomes. For instancethe constant level of pain with seemingly noend quickly led me to envision cutting off my own arm finding it preferable within my imagination to substitute a prosthetic or even a stick that I could continue to use for typing. Furthermore I was troubled by notions that I would not be able to continue any of my favorite hobbies and considered a life without this form of creative expression to be a life not worth living.

Now being the reflective soul that I am, I did recognize these red flags as symptomatic of an untenable position within my daily life. In that the loss of a hobby should not necessitate amputation or thoughts of unnatural demise but what I quickly came to realize was that I hold these hobbies to be an essential expression of who I am as well as a way ofstaking my claim on the world. But Mike you say, don't you have so much more to offer so many reasons to live outside of your hobbies? Sure I reply but given the circumstances of my life these last few years the general decline of what could be considered my career trajectory my lack of romantic relationship or family or even a community in which I offer a necessary part, the truth is that I didn't see and perhaps don't still, any lofty reasons for continuing my existence, if the aforementioned inability should persist. This awareness caused me to reconsider something a friend asked a few days ago namely Mike are you depressed? And I responded at the time no which I still consider to be true however I am now much more aware of how easily I could slide into that state of mind.

This makes me wonder what is it that makes life worth living? In a few short months I will be attending grad school where I will be trained to consider more options and how to help people how to strengthen individuals and communities, but knowing this did not remove the  despair I felt with urgency in the moment. Knowing that I would upset friends and relatives did not remove the pessimistic worldview that led me to considering my own death. Being aware of other possibilities for how to enjoy life such as travel or enjoying music and art or movies did not remove my narrowness of vision. It was as if not being capable of adding to these experiences through written or artistic expression made the whole less meaningful.

 Even my ability to communicate verbally seemed utterly futile in comparison to the means of written communication and I recognize two different parts of this,first that my ability tovisually depict my thoughts is a cherished and entirely different skill set or  ability than the means to verbalize them. For example my dictation of this piece has been slowand far more frustratingly difficult to consider in real time than the process by which I communicate my thoughts in writing.  This notion is not something I haven't considered before and to the best of my ability the only conclusion I have been able to draw is that when writing I often feel as if I am guided by a muse whereas in verbalizing I have to carefully consider and reconsider eachthought and word on myown. it may be that I am just a visual learner but I cherishthe ease at which both logic and creativity flow from my fingertips.Secondly then and perhaps guided by my ego, there is the notion that written statements may be saved for posterity whereas a word spoken into the airsurely dissipates. This is the reason I choose to write poems, the reason for my endless blogs, for the journals that are never seen, for the notes on napkins and for my hope to publish even when I know a readership is doubtful. Ego what a joke.

So perhaps it is this ego that has suffered far more than my wrist, this ego that shrouds my creativity, that barricades away allnotions a possibility, that derives a sense of having been slighted, that is frustrated to self-pity and wishes an end rather than to toil at new beginnings.  

I am reminded that many amputees rate their life satisfaction equal or better one year after the loss of a limb and likewise that winners of the lottery are as likely a year later to report dissatisfaction and the loss of happiness which pointsto factors outside of the immediate and rather to the ongoing sense of purpose the connection with others in the community and a  level of resiliency to the daily pains, the ups and downs, the pitfalls that we all face and face better when we have others to rely on. 

So finally for posterity and for my own future reflection let me end by saying the following: I noticed my spirit growing lighter when later that evening I was chatting with a friend who sought me out not knowing of the pain and not caring because she believed in me regardless and knew that even if such a permanent change occurred I would still be worthwhile, or rather just worthy.

The Casual Descent Brought on by Time OFF

I've been struggling lately with confidence in the future, specifically me in the future.

Logically I am aware that I am going to Grad School in the fall. I now know I will be interning part time at a community center I like. I will likely work a part time job in addition to these things... and for the most part, that will take up my days.
I imagine it will be two years that goes by under a fairly constant level of strain, not distress but not relaxed, shuffling from project to project, from one appointment on a calendar to the next. I can also imagine that I will try to sneak friends in on the side, as well as the obligatory family gatherings. I will look for someone to date, I will try to do some reading for fun, and some writing -which I mostly imagine will be taken up by Papers and work assignments.  I won't like my part time job, but I will be grateful for the handful of cash that allows me to get through the day with just a little less debt. I may also enjoy the reprieve from difficult things, from mental exertion and compassion, to just "What size Mocha do you want? and with whip?" I may live here unhappily, or I may move and be just as discontent.  I will try to exercise, but likely won't have time. I will try to do other things that are healthy, but likely will pass them by for whatever is most expedient.   And this sinkhole of debt and strain will last a few years.

I will graduate with a Masters but will have to continue practicing in order to get a license for private practice. I may delay on that path because I don't want to be stuck in a room listening to a person at a time, ALL THE TIME. I'll be able to pay off the debt because my grandparents made more money than I could ever hope to. I'll look for something that makes me feel passionate, but instead will land in a job that is draining, and only worth the reward half the time. It won't pay anything so major life purchases will again be put on the dime of someone else. I'll sneak away from time to time for travel. It will seem exciting, and then not. I'll start little audiovisual projects on the computer and maybe finish them. I will keep a guitar or a keyboard around, but I will rarely touch them. I will always have art materials, but months will go by without any effort. I may learn Spanish, here and there, little leaps each time building confidence, but not necessarily fluency. I will write, as I always have, little journal entries, poems and stories, maybe finish a book or a collection,  or give a performance, but likely it won't really have any traction. I will read a lot, and each time wonder why I didn't know that... or believe it to be some new fundamental way of seeing the universe but that ends up changing  my life course in no significant way.
I may or may not date someone. It seems just as likely either way.
I may not have kids because I can't imagine adopting on my own, and if I have a partner we may decide we are too old, or too broke. I may work up the resolve someday to have a cat of my own, but I still won't want to take care of it -same with a yard, same with the universe. I will have roommates because I can't afford to live alone. Or I will have a small apartment. Or I will buy a house and rent out some of it.
I will probably always feel guilty for not making time for people, feel like I should be more invested in community than I am, but when given the opportunity, I'll hide.

Maybe there will be a window of opportunity in which I decide to gamble on some alternate future, some new passion, or a profession in which I take some hobby seriously. Maybe I will meet someone who pushes me into something new, or maybe I will get caught up in the wrong vice, leave the wrong trail and succumb to some societal mishap/failure. Maybe I will die in an accident, or have a body/personality changing experience.

But it's interesting because when I look back I see a clear line that lead here, repeated patterns I am still enacting despite becoming aware of them, and because I am far more stuck in my personality and behaviors than I ever really realized, I see it heading in this direction only.
I am not sure what else there is... what possibilities could occur that would branch from this point in any meaningful way. Perhaps a family. Perhaps global catastrophe. But really it seems pretty straight forward and a bit dull. I love people, but also find them boring. I love learning and processing new information, but also find it unfulfilling. I love helping and serving, but find it draining. I love creating and reflecting but also find it irritating when I can't accomplish what my mind says I should be able to.

Most days I think I am pretty resigned and ok with this. But lately, because I haven't been working and haven't been able to stay as focused as I would like, I am disappointed.

A couple days ago I said it would be nice to not wake up. It wasn't a suicidal thought, nt even necessarily depression, just a boredom thought: if each day is the same, and leads down the same path, why not skip a few here and there. I probably wouldn't even notice.

I can't even picture working anywhere right now because I imagine it to exhaust me in the same way. I can't imagine investing in a person, loving them the way I have people in the past, because it seems to exhausting to be not guaranteed a return. I'd love a vacation just to change things up, but in my ordinary day to day (when I have tons of time) I do the exact same things every day.

Craving novelty without the exertion to find it.

Gjnvfdd

I tried to be productive today, checked the list and all. 

Contemplated computers and their relation to the brain. 

Stayed up way too late playing a silly game.

Still feel like I lost.

Strange how sometimes I claim an  advanced position, other times feel behind.  

It would be nice to not wake up tomorrow. 

I should rename this blog- mike frantically writing down his dreams.

I spent the evening with her. The dynamic was painted in her favor, with the world coalescing above her shoulders and me attempting to do what I could to remove it, without ever actually asking why? Why do you put yourself in this position? Why do you drag me into it? Why am I of so little importance and yet always tagging along. 

In my head I play the role of caring friend, would be protector until the end... And apparently tonight was the end.

We were at a bar-restaurant. Nowhere I would choose, but I'd gone to play the role. The conversation was pleasant and surface and catching up, until slowly the insecurities and jealousies started spilling out. It began innocently, but built to become a fortress. A small slight, (you weren't able to get tickets to a show you wanted to see) became the world against you, your friends, your family, and I picture myself as a safeguard, a spillway, but the conversation left so little room for me. I fought and kicked to stay in your neutral eye, not even the positive, but not against you. 

A man approached. Friendly. You grew defensive, I reacted and sent him away. Your mind tried to solve the puzzle, and painted him a key piece. You wanted my help to escort you. You were already a mess, and frantic, and in survival mode but the idea that you could retrieve or rebuild some lost foundation by talking to this man -seemed plausible, but when I think about it, only because you asked me to be there. No one chases a pack of dogs into a back alley when they are drunk and emotional without receiving new scars. 

You said something about trying to figure out why you have no reflex to self protect, I said that you did and it was strong but only in the moments of absolute necessity. Perhaps I had it all backwards... And realized that -as you began to sniff around the dogs. 

We approached. His friends sat around -ones you didn't know. They seemed like ordinary people, not the beasts of their past lives.  You pretended to buy something, then, even though you'd been ready to go home, you bought two tickets to a later show - something hours away, and I had to push myself- reimagining hours more of this charade.

The restaurant closed. We sat in a back hallway staring at the neon glowing signs that displayed where each club and restaurant were in the building. 

The bench was at first empty, but people left the closing restaurants, they packed in, and the tension they held about their bodies was the same. People in various states of reveal, clothed in jealousies held tight to the chest or shoved in each others faces, in various states of playing the roles. The dogs circled and sniffed about. Some people pet street dogs and get bit. He had a look in his eye that promised mischief, but you thought him flirting, you thought him promising you something I couldn't. I was looking up your directions to walk you through the night and return you safely, I was looking for the boring things people do to entertain each other- when their company is all you really need. You saw me on a phone, and compared it to the glimmer in his eye, and the sparkle of his teeth. 

You turned just slightly and stood up. The beast of a man caught my eye as he assured you.  I recognized what was happening and reacted:

Physically shoving you into his arms. 

As you turned the corner into the alley I did change my mind, I looked. You were gone. So i returned to your things, you left your purse, your jacket. 

All the vulnerable things you'd need kept safe after you returned bleeding...

I woke up and hated myself for doing it. For acting with such anger. But I am pretty sure I walked away, let you be devoured whole. 

And I think the thing that made me angry was not that you were so foolish, or that I acted out, but that the combination of it all meant that in your mind I would no longer be good or neutral, but one of the dogs. That no matter what I said or did, it  was the world against you, with you hellbent to prove it by pushing me away and allowing yourself to be crushed by it. 

The physical person changed a few times during the dream, but the presence was one person. The roles were too familiar. I wonder what I am learning that I can see it so plainly.  And what I am not learning, in that I have no idea how to solve this issue. 

I've been avoiding relationships specifically because I am sick of this dynamic. I am sick of trying to be what the other person wants me to be, always thinking of what they might want me to say before I say something, never sure what to share or not share about myself because I want to be liked. Seeing in a moment the shift of the eyes that signals that line has been crossed.  If it is someone new that line is not so important. Someone old, more so. 

But also I hate my way of reacting, sulking, acting out, making decisions that hurt myself and others in the long run, because I'm unwilling to be honest at the right time... I hate being both these people. I can see this role playing out a million times over and it makes me want to hide instead of asking. 

I'm hiding from this. From this vulnerability, this push and pull of needs that can't be met, and needs for self destruction, because honesty is never a possibility, never assured at least. 

I am sick of playing the roles, so I am not playing any... Not seeking them out and irritated when they call me. 

This dream has never happened. There is not a single actual experience in this situation that is true physically. But at the same time I have never had such an honest dream that so clearly demonstrated the monstrosity of it all, and every single detail was in its right place. Which is the wrong place.