2003-01-29 - 12:32 p.m.
The thing that gets me is: how can I know whether what I am doing is good or bad? How can I really judge the innate goodness or badness of any one decision or motivation? Everything is novel. Everything is new. And even if it seems like the same decision I can’t actually make the same decision twice. Because life and time and I have moved on from that last time. There will always be a “this time” but there is no way to compare it to “last time”. Last time I was 15, 18, 23. Last time I was pregnant, hurt, lost, afraid. Last time I didn’t know there would be a next time. Last time I thought I was fat, ugly, unwanted. Last time I didn’t know what I know this time. Last time was last time, this is this time. That was then, this is now. And it may sound the same, it may look the same to the crowd, but trust me it’s a whole new dance. And I guess we all just have to learn to sit back and trust each other. Eventually we have to learn to trust each other to live our own lives. It must be a hard habit to get into. And it involves a lot of non-involvement. There is another perk to my going to Portland. Every one I love and everyone who loves me gets a period of enforced non-involvement. We get to give each other space and learn to trust a little. I have discovered the value of a day away. My best friend and I stayed in each other’s company almost the whole weekend and on into Tuesday night. It was great and I wanted to keep hanging out but I had game and he had to write. I had a great time at game and got a frikkin’ break. With that break I got a little perspective and the urgency to hang out with him all the time waned. It was so therapeutic. So now I need that from everyone, every place I’ve been. Now, I know I’ve been to Portland before but it hasn’t had a chance to piss me off yet. It’s new and it’s a break and it’s what I need. SO STOP SECOND-GUESSING ME!!! Stop telling me that I’m doing it for the wrong reasons. Stop telling me how much I’m risking. Stop telling me how scary it will be. Taking the medicine is always worse when someone ELSE is making faces. I’m of half a mind to start the hermitage right now. But that won’t due. I want the rest of my time here to be in full flower so that I can’t say I’d cheated myself. Or anyone else. I’ve learned to trust people to live their lives. But I think that’s only because we’ve spent years at a stretch not speaking to each other. Strange how trust can crop up to fill those spaces. Or not. I didn’t trust Amy to be living her life until I saw she was. Imagine that, people grow up without me. Besides, you can’t convince someone else that you know something by telling them. No one will ever believe you. Even if they say they do, they don’t. They are always waiting for the other shoe to fall. Every one is salivating at the idea of being right about something that is not actually their business. If they actually care, if they actually were on your side it won’t matter. You’ll live like you know it and they’ll say “good on ya” or you’ll live like you don’t know it and they’ll make you tea while you cry about it. The voyeurs will tell you that they told you, or that they “weren’t going to say anything”. Hey, if you weren’t going to say anything, what changed your mind? Why was that moment of tact so fleeting? Why can’t you keep it to your fucking self? (“great response that I may never use” of the week: why don’t you go outside and play hide-and-go-fuck-yourself?) Or they will say they always knew you could do it. Congratulations, it must feel good to be right. Yeah, I’m a little bitter about this. But I suppose everyone goes through this. Or not. Lately I am discovering that things I find normal are not necessarily everyone else’s experience. And, on the other side, things that I thought made me a total freak are actually quite sane. Maybe everyone went through this when they were 16 and I am finally catching up. Maybe everyone will go through this when they hit 30 and I’ve got a head start. Maybe this is just the way it goes for me and I should keep my eyes on my own paper. That sounds nice, but I would appreciate it if half the class wasn’t peering in my direction, too. Whatever. Read Illusions: The Adventures of a Reluctant Messiah by Richard Bach. When you get to the bit about basing your happiness on what other people think you’ll understand what I’m saying. But keep reading. It’s a good book.
Take care,
M
