After writing that last post, I played Heavy Rain till the bitter end. It was morning by the time I beat it.
I didn’t want to play it all night. I wanted sleep. I swallowed a sleeping pill hoping it’ll force me into shutting the game off. I also found half a pill tucked away inside my hoodie.
“Where’d this come from?”
I still don’t know, but I swallowed it down alongside the sleeping pill.
People like giving me drugs. I don’t even ask for them. I found a joint rolled up nicely in the same pocket.
“Where the hell did I get this? Oh yeah…”
I forgot that I married two people a few weeks ago. I’m a certified Dudeist priestess that can legally marry people because I printed out an online certificate that gives me the right. And as a thank you, I was handed a joint.
But I never turned the game off nor did I sleep. Instead, I took a shower and went to the Triple A in Hamden where I can finally buy a new drivers license.
I lost my license four months ago and been using an expired one ever since.
“Would I get in trouble if I got pulled over and showed the cop an expired license?”
The woman helping me widened her eyes and nodded her head as if to say, “hell yeah bitch you be trippin’.”
I was so tired, and everything I did felt like a game. The way I walked, the words I spoke, my every move – everything I did felt like an RPG (role playing game) and every action had a consequence. Every choice I made effected the course of future events.
I was still in the game.
It’s now a couple days later. After going to AAA, I went to my brother’s holiday party at the spa he owns across the street from my house. As soon as I walk in, I was greeted by my niece who sat at the entryway welcoming people as they entered.
Then I saw my cousins mingling with clients and friends, jazzy holiday music played in the background. It was warm and alive inside.
Massage therapists preformed chair massages, aestheticians gave facials, manicurists gave manicures, hair dressers cut hair, a young blonde receptionist scheduled appointments and sold products to a flood of people.
The party was a success. And once again, I found myself as a voyeur looking into one of those moments of sentimental fullness where I find myself appreciating just how lucky I am.
“It’s bad to wallow in sentimentality.” The tarot reader told me. “It’s like being sucked into an eddie and not living in the flow of life.”
I accepted the emotion and let it pass. I was no longer outside the moment, but was welcomed into it.
It’s now Friday, three days after the party. I can’t seem to focus on my blog lately. The book I’m writing is collecting dust. I seem to be in a state of transition. The universe is waiting for my next move.
No billows sweep me out to sea
No tides or gusts to chaperone me
Time is what I have of much
and money saved from anointing touch
I can plan and whisper to myself…
Will this life be entire?
Will it be enough?
It’s your move Mel, what’ll er be?
Come ashore or drift out to sea.
I wouldn’t have this problem if I knew who I wanted to be. I have so many freaking interests! And my ginormous ego thinks it can accomplish anything. That’s the problem. But I get bored after some time – no matter what I do, I get bored. It’s inevitable.
“Is this all there is?”
When I was walking the Camino, I decided to be a psychologist. I have a knack for knowing and understanding people. But I walked some more and thought to myself, “I don’t want to listen to depressed people complain all day on why life sucks and how unfair it is. It’s all in their heads and they’ll keep circulating and circulating. They’ll call me up looking for answers but in the end they can only help themselves. And I’ll be one of those shrinks who solve clients problems with pharma magic happy pills.”
But I have to decide. I can’t massage people for the rest of my life. It’s too easy. Too boring.
And I know for certain that whatever I decide to do, it has to be incredibly exciting. I want to be able to think and use my own mind and judgement. I want to solve puzzles not involving math. I want to work alone, but with people at the same time. And if I find a job where I can help others, that’ll be a bonus. I have massive skills in empathy and with being a great judge of character. I know how people think (which ends up depressing me half the time.)
It would be nice traveling the world with my blog in tow, yeah, but where’s that pinnacle moment of shared experience? Where’s the ending? Like finishing a project, or solving a puzzle. I want that feeling of completion, you know? I want to climb intellectual mountains. I want to be of value to people, and not just valuable to myself.
When I reached Santiago after walking 500 miles, that doesn’t mean Santiago didn’t exist before I been there to see it. I want to be Santiago, be the mountain. I want to find something that wasn’t there before I arrived. Something I can show to others.
I know exactly what I want. Now I just need to find the right profession that fits the criteria. It should feel exactly like being in love.
Right at this moment, I know exactly what I want, but I still don’t have a grasp on who I am because I don’t have that vessel outside myself to help inspire/design my image. That’s all it is really, an image. God has no face, remember?
When you find real love, it’s like seeing yourself for the first time. You’re able to see yourself because someone else see’s you. It’s the highest form of inspiration when you find something outside yourself that encapsulates your soul. It’s the fullness of emptiness. Infinite potential. You become nothing and everything.
All hidden within a blink, a glance, a smile, a touch, an idea. You find your face. The one that best matches your heart.
You fall in love and want the whole world to know about it. Not only do you want the world to know, but you want them to be in love too. You want others to know what it feels like so you’re not alone in it.
When you’re doing what you love to do, you fall in love with life. Anything becomes possible. I fell in love with remaining open to the vast possibilities and hated the idea of settling into something that I can’t easily get out of. But now that fear is gone. I can always find a way out so long as I play my cards right (spider solitaire taught me that).
Do I want to be a pharmacologist? No, too much school and too much math. I’m in love with the simple idea of it, but cringe at organic chemistry.
I would be an exceptional nurse (I’m crazy compassionate), but I have little interest.
I would love to be an EMT, but the stress is overwhelming.
I could follow in my grandpa’s footsteps and be a mechanical engineer, but that entails sitting in front of a desk all day looking at graph paper and sharpening pencils.
I could follow in my nana’s footsteps and become a real estate broker, but I’m no salesman.
Being a teacher is out of the question. In sixth grade I couldn’t fathom why anyone would want to go to school for 12 years, graduate, go to more school, graduate, and come back to school to teach everything they learned in school.
I can be an artist, but that’s not the intellectual mountain I want to climb.
But I want to do something! I have no plan, no goal.
For the time being, I’m in the perfect place. I love my job, but I can do more. I want to push my potential. The spa industry isn’t it.
It’s like I’m in the waiting zone. For 34 years I’ve been in a waiting room. Shit, am I really 34? No, I think I’m 33. What year is it?
Not to mention I’m dumb and lazy. The dumbness comes from laziness.
All the jobs I listed above, I’m either too lazy for, or they’ll eventually get boring. I need to find the middle zone between slack and tension. Like how my body feels when I swim.
Here’s a cartoon that depicts real love over illusion. Illusions are made when you attach yourself to things in order to feel safe and secure. It’s not real. Just like being employed at a job that offers safety and comfort. We escape pain and avoid being scared, but at what price?
Any attachment you have, no matter what it is, is an illusion. And when you’re in real love with a person or a job, faith and infinite potential replaces attachment. You realize that you don’t need anything, but you desire it. You desire it because you care about it. And anything’s possible because you found faith in yourself.
Finding compassion in others, to me, is my only need. It’s only compassion from others that keeps us afloat. But I don’t want to need it. I want to have faith that it’ll always be there. If I have faith it’ll always be there, there’s no need to get attached to it.
But I see so little of it. Everyone’s scared and almost everybody see’s only themselves. Hence the cause of my latest depression.
Maybe there’s a job out there that would allow me to confront this fear. I shouldn’t be afraid of not seeing compassion in people. I have to train myself to not be dependent on it. It’s a part of life and I have to accept it.
I’m scared of indifference. There’s nothing more vile than indifference. Indifference is the opposite of empathy.
Somebody found my blog a few days ago by searching “I want my alcoholic daughter out of my life.” It broke my heart. She’s your daughter and she’s in pain!
But the world is like that. It’s my greatest fear and my greatest attachment.
Maybe I should fight indifference with indifference?