If you take away technology, take away clothes shopping, makeup, doing your hair nice….
If you take away all entertainment and hobbies from us…
What’s left that we have in common?
In the beginning, we had everything in common. All we cared about was food, protection and shelter. People found it easier to group together to attain these commonalities.
But now, what makes us group together? When our basic needs are met?
It all comes down to similar interests. When our basic needs are met, we can branch off into specialized nodes of activity.
But what if a persons basic needs go beyond food, protection and shelter? What if they don’t feel settled and they can’t “branch off” until they also have freedom?
The price of food, protection, and shelter will always be freedom.
I feel feral. Like I can’t be domesticated.
In the meantime, when everyone’s busy making babies and have bosses that feed them – grouping together with like-minds, going to church, throwing Mary Kay parties…getting lost in the grind, coping with sickness, crying over spilt milk….
I feel like I’m the only person in my vicinity who feels that freedom is a basic need. And people hand over their health willfully in exchange for stressful circumstances that slowly eats away their vitality. They choose these stressful circumstances in exchange for food, protection, and shelter.
And as a way to cope, they find addiction, money and/or power to quantify their existence. To keep them in denial from their one basic unobtainable need, freedom.
Today is Monday, my day off. I can’t remember the last time I had a day like today. A day where I can sleep for as late as I want and continue doing nothing for the remainder.
I slept until 1:30 in the afternoon. I slept to the point where I was half awake and half asleep. Enjoying that in-between place where images are vivid yet you know they’re not real. I stayed there until I absolutely had to pee.
But I work so hard, and I only have one life to live, it’s insane – I mean literally insane to not have any restful days and to not spend your one life exactly how you want to live it.
And it’s not even a true free day. Not with a business to run…
I think I was a horrible person in a past life. A dictator, or a medieval landlord. Having people work for me so I don’t have to lift a finger. Before that, I was a beaten housewife with a ton of kids.
At least, that’s what I hypothesize. And if I’m right, than who am I in this life? I’m on the run from any and all responsibility and I hate narcissists. That’s who I am.
I told my landlord to add the new room to my rent.
I’m adding a new couple’s room to my massage business so I can sell more upgraded couples massages on Groupon. I’ll have it by November 1st, the room.
I also hired 3 new people. It sounds like a lot of people, but it’s really not. One works on Fridays, another on Sundays, and the last works every other weekend. All older ladies, a client favorite.
Once I start cranking out those couples massages on groupon, I’ll need to hire one more therapist to work Saturdays and weekday nights and once that happens, I’m done. I’ll literally never have to massage another body for as long as I live. I’d love to recite that as a marriage vow.
I feel like this is it, the beginning of the end of my battle. I’ll try to hold off hiring that last person until my debt is paid. That last person I hire might tip the scales into debt again, I have to be careful. I’m now roughly $34,702 in the hole as opposed to $50,000 back on April 1st.
I hate the sound of text messages. I hate the sound of phone calls. I hate the sound of emails. I shouldn’t hate these things. I deep down love people and never in my right mind would I hate the sound of someone wanting to talk to me.
And since I’m so obsessed about finding my freedom, I can’t branch off into specialized nodes of interest. I can’t learn the piano, I can’t even find time to exercise properly. I can’t find time to write these days and writing means everything to me.
Anyway, I started writing this post because two of my friends decided that I should be Katniss Everdeen for Halloween. They said I’m a natural Katniss. I started writing this post with Katniss in mind, trying to figure out what it is I have in common with her.
I think it’s mostly me being a Tom boy and I won Massachusetts state champion youth division for archery when I was 12. But it’s more than that, I just can’t put my finger on it. And other people see it too, but they probably can’t put their finger on it either.
I’m writing this post to put my finger on it, but it’s not working.
I’d like to think it’s because she’s strong, stubborn, and fights for what she believes in, but it’s not that.
I hate to say it, but I can see myself in people – a lot of people. People who have absolutely nothing in common with each other, have something in common with me. I relate and empathize with mostly everyone, including made-up characters from movies and TV. And because I empathize, I take on their traits.
That’s what it is. That’s got to be it. I try to think as clearly and as rationally as I can at all times, removing emotion and focusing on fact. I learned this by writing.
Looking back and re-reading old stuff, I learned how crazy and transfixed I can be. Writing taught me control and that control extends to all facets of my day to day life. Say only what needs to be said, convey emotions that are relevant to the present situation, I should never focus on myself, but on others…..These are built-in gut reactions. They are pure reactions. But they are learned reactions. I am a succinct categorist.
Maybe I’m more domesticated than I think.
But anyway, when I like what I see, when I’m being influenced by an idol (we all have idols), I want to become them. Children do this better than anyone and I never grew up.
I’m a product of everything I like in others. Unfortunately, every single idol I ever had was a fictional character. These perfect people don’t exist in real life.
And I’m always pretending that I’m the living protagonist of a story. Perfecting my character, watching her grow. Always doing the right thing no matter what.
I guess that’s why my friends think of me as Katniss. I’m like a character from a story-book. I’m literally made-up fiction. I wouldn’t know who I am if I didn’t write about me.