Malleable, Amicable Me

I had a long day yesterday.  I massaged five clients in a row, one of them being an obese unhygienic man.  As soon as I opened the door to the little massage room, his smell smacked my nose buds like a fist (or a bag of Starbucks coffee).  He had shorts on and was laying on top of the sheets forming no barrier between me and his smell.

I happily massage obese people all the time, however they usually don’t stink.  This guy smelt like old sweat.  The kind of sweat that is forgotten between the crevices of your butt cheeks.  Left unchecked, this sweat grows and adheres to the fibers of your skin and builds colony’s of stench rodents.

It exhausted me to no end.

After work I went straight to a fancy little restaurant in the Watchfactory plaza to meet Brie, Paul and Holly for a $50 dinner.  I don’t usually bat an eye when doling out cash for a good meal, but I’m thinking that maybe I should start budgeting better.  I want to move out of my parents house, but I’ll talk about that later.

I went to a toga party after dinner for my friend Caryl’s birthday.  I known Caryl since the seventh grade.  She just turned 32 and has pink hair – she’s awesome.

I drank quite a bit and went to another party after that.  I was so tired.  I was in a dreamy state and highly susceptible to suggestion when my friend Maureen called me wondering where I was and asked if I wanted to come over.

Let me tell you a little bit about my friendship with Maureen.  We met at the Aquaturf club ten years ago when I was 21 and she was 25.  We worked banquets together at a huge facility that employs hundreds of people.

I thought she was the coolest person I ever met.  She was beautiful and smart and everyone loved her and somehow she adopted me into her world of impenetrable coolness.  We became quick best friends, hung out everyday, and I felt that everyone wanted to be around us. I felt I was on the top tier of the social ladder – untouchable, funny, witty, in high demand.

She had this way of looking at me and knowing exactly what I was thinking.  I had other friends who also have this ability, but nothing as profound to her level.  Nobody knew me like she did.  And I mean NOBODY.  And when she looked at me, I knew she was looking at me even when my back was turned.

Anyway, I looked up to her and admired her and she would take me out and we’d get good and drunk together until one day it all just stopped and I never knew why.  I still don’t know why, actually.  I like to keep people.  I like to know they are a phone call away and I have them when I miss them, but some people just fade me out completely and it breaks my heart.

So last night she called me up out of the blue and told me all this stuff about how we are different from everybody else.  She said that her and I are the same and that everyone else are sociopaths.  Sociopaths!  When she said this I felt it was completely true and explained a lot.  Or maybe I was being too empathetic and letting her project her emotions onto me.  I mean I REALLY felt it – every word.

“Nobody care’s about you, they only care about themselves.  But I care about you.  I know you.  We are the same.”

It broke my world in two.

Me – “You just pissed on my candyland.  You poured acid rain on my sugar-coated fairy land.”

Mo – “Sorry to do that to you, but you’re 30 now and need to learn this.”

It depressed the hell out of me.  I mean here is a girl that I was practically in love with, who admitted that she know’s me like no other person can ever know me and telling me that everyone is a sociopath and have total disregard for my feelings.  It all felt so true.  It seems like people really DO have total disregard for my feelings and I’m truly alone in this wretched world to only find happiness in the occasional laugh and the swimmy thoughts of alcohol induced comfort.

We talked on the phone until close to 4 in the morning.  I’m still a little shaken.

It got me thinking though.

I started thinking about all the great works of art in the world.  All the great novelists out there who can capture an emotion and paste it up and bring it to light and make us all feel better and not alone with our dark, lonely thoughts.

I thought about all the great artists who create beautiful works on their talent.  For people to create such beauty, how can people be devoid of love and hope?

I thought of classic movie’s, opera’s, plays and music that moved emotions in me to the point of tears.

Such beauty, togetherness, connectedness and love everywhere – how can everyone be sociopaths when there’s so much beauty in the world?

Then I thought about all the time’s other’s have hurt me, even the most miniscule types of hurts.  Those small fly by comments made by close friends that hit my heart like a sack of bricks (or two bags of Starbucks coffee).  Things said so flippantly, yet so erroneous and damaging.  These small hurts have nothing to do with me, it has to do with the person saying them.  These people are hurt in some small way and it might be my fault they are hurt, but I don’t realize that – I don’t know how or why.

We are all damaged.  Our brains work by damaging it – deconstructing and reconstructing over and over, never to be perfect.  Nothing is ever perfect.  Down to the quantum mechanics of space there exists quantum foam of complete chaos.  Even time itself isn’t perfect.  If you keep zooming in on time, you will find small  quantum wormholes popping in and out of existence – traversing time and space (according to Steven Hawking).

Beauty can be found in our imperfections.  Harmony is found in our imperfections, somehow is works.

So, I have deconstructed and managed to construct myself all over again.  That’s what I did today.

I’m thinking about why people aren’t honest and why they’re too afraid to just let spill everything in them and I think maybe they’re scared to be hurt.  If people knew the truth, I mean the WHOLE truth, they would learn what hurts others and use it to push their buttons or steal their thunder.  At least that’s why I’m so guarded…..

Of course all this is a needless hyperbolic rant and probably means nothing to anybody in the grand scheme of things.  Thinking this way brings with it a belief that maybe everyone really is sociopathic.  I mean, how can I write all this and it means nothing to everyone?

This is a self-delusional neurotic thought.  And I see that plain as day.  It’s such a contrast in perspective.  It reminds me of that old lady illusion.

I’m sure lot’s of people share my thought’s, but maybe they’re not written down or organized.  What I share with the world already exists in the world with or without me.  I’m just a regular girl amongst many.

Maureen certainly rattled my cage, but in a good way.  If she didn’t, I would never have written this post!  She’s still super cool in my book.

But anyways, this is me; bored, tired, confused Melanie trying to seek ways to arouse my spirit instead of doing drugs or partying till my pants fall down.

Thanks for the listen!


Filed under All about me, journal, random thoughts, rant, Self help

4 responses to “Malleable, Amicable Me

  1. I fancied the post. No really. I did. Thanks for the share. I think you’ve got something there.

  2. Holly

    ummm. I dont know what to say except for the fact that this post makes me really sad and a bit upset. But dont worry, you’re still one of my best friends.

  3. Don’t be upset Holly. I’m sorry. I was trying to get myself out of a funk when I wrote that, and I did feel a lot better afterwards. I knew it was a weird personal post but didn’t think it was going to upset anyone like it did. I’m sorry. 😦

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