politics, frustration
watched the olympics opening ceremonies this evening. it's amazing how many nations were represented, some i'd never heard of before. they're on the lookout for terrorists, my mother told me. good old mom, always keeping me abreast of the worst-case scenarios.
anyway, i realize terrorism isn't a joke, but it's become that ubiquitous condition of our times. its like, "the call for tomorrow is: hot and humid with a chance of rain and possible terrorism." i think the belief in fear itself and the advertisement of this belief is, in and of itself, a form of terrorism. i hate that new commercial with bush and wifey where he says something about "choosing which child to find first on sept. 11." he can just SIT there in his recliner and glibly sneak this gem into the palpitating hearts and bombarded minds of terrorized americans!! it makes me want to yak.
i'm not freaking out b/c i've been freaking out all my life anyway. on bad days i'm a malfunction. on good days i breathe and pay attention. and on great days, well...i fantasize about being a misunderstood prophet. in reality though, i'm just a lightning rod for whatever's around me. i'm empathy to the point of overkill. i'm just annoying. geez, i can't even commit to being a proper narcissist.
i fantasize about being in love. i touch my cheek and pretend its someone else but it never, ever feels like it. everybody is getting married. if they aren't married, they're cohabitated. if they're not cohabitated, they're dating. and if they're not dating, they're single on purpose. the cheese stands alone. (i remember that book, "i am the cheese.") my mother keeps telling me that i had my chance. bullshit!! that wasn't a chance; it was a game. it was "house." i didn't play correctly. i never have and doubt i ever will. i sincerely question whether or not i am even emotionally equipped to handle a romantic relationship, period. it's just so damn sad. i lost all my chances. i'm not even cute anymore. i have a past, and i can't relate to people who haven't had to deal with some serious, major disaster in their lives.
fingers are no longer moving to the appropriate keys to the appropriate thoughts. i am really stretching. all i need is love, and i can't find it. all i have is my mother, whose love is like one of those life-jackets you wear on a rowboat in camp-- it can help you out of a jam and it has the best of intentions, but it's too tight, and sometimes you just can't take it. i feel terrible for her. i hate seeing her when she stumbles, when she falls and cries and sobs and croaks. i hate it that she can't open her eyes sometimes and she looks like a zombie. i hate when she has to hold on to the wall to walk. i hate that she gets tired so easily. most of all, i hate it when i get ANGRY at her when i see her looking so weak. i don't understand that response at all. it's like a shawn thing to do-- prey on someone who can't defend him/herself.
anyway, i realize terrorism isn't a joke, but it's become that ubiquitous condition of our times. its like, "the call for tomorrow is: hot and humid with a chance of rain and possible terrorism." i think the belief in fear itself and the advertisement of this belief is, in and of itself, a form of terrorism. i hate that new commercial with bush and wifey where he says something about "choosing which child to find first on sept. 11." he can just SIT there in his recliner and glibly sneak this gem into the palpitating hearts and bombarded minds of terrorized americans!! it makes me want to yak.
i'm not freaking out b/c i've been freaking out all my life anyway. on bad days i'm a malfunction. on good days i breathe and pay attention. and on great days, well...i fantasize about being a misunderstood prophet. in reality though, i'm just a lightning rod for whatever's around me. i'm empathy to the point of overkill. i'm just annoying. geez, i can't even commit to being a proper narcissist.
i fantasize about being in love. i touch my cheek and pretend its someone else but it never, ever feels like it. everybody is getting married. if they aren't married, they're cohabitated. if they're not cohabitated, they're dating. and if they're not dating, they're single on purpose. the cheese stands alone. (i remember that book, "i am the cheese.") my mother keeps telling me that i had my chance. bullshit!! that wasn't a chance; it was a game. it was "house." i didn't play correctly. i never have and doubt i ever will. i sincerely question whether or not i am even emotionally equipped to handle a romantic relationship, period. it's just so damn sad. i lost all my chances. i'm not even cute anymore. i have a past, and i can't relate to people who haven't had to deal with some serious, major disaster in their lives.
fingers are no longer moving to the appropriate keys to the appropriate thoughts. i am really stretching. all i need is love, and i can't find it. all i have is my mother, whose love is like one of those life-jackets you wear on a rowboat in camp-- it can help you out of a jam and it has the best of intentions, but it's too tight, and sometimes you just can't take it. i feel terrible for her. i hate seeing her when she stumbles, when she falls and cries and sobs and croaks. i hate it that she can't open her eyes sometimes and she looks like a zombie. i hate when she has to hold on to the wall to walk. i hate that she gets tired so easily. most of all, i hate it when i get ANGRY at her when i see her looking so weak. i don't understand that response at all. it's like a shawn thing to do-- prey on someone who can't defend him/herself.
posted by jamie lynn at 3:43 AM
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