Note to Self : No Need to Open Up (Further)

It’s hardly a secret, my life, because I live it out in the open.  Anyone can come and observe it, analyze it, even scrutinize it, post public comments about it, whatever.  Not that I think anyone will ever do that, although I do entertain that thought, because what if it were to happen?

See, I think about public figures and their willingness to lay it all out for everyone to see.  Of course, that depends on the level of public figure and what he or she ever wanted to get out of it.  Some are desperate for the spotlight and continue their desperation once they’ve got it, some clamor for it and fight to hide from it once they have it, and others never want it and somehow land in it, forever wishing it never shone on them.  I am in the latter camp.  Not to say I am a public figure, but like I said, I am a figure, I am publicly available, and that is how I feel I WOULD act if I were to land in a pile of fame.

So here I am, now, laying myself out for everyone around me — my roommates, my doctors, everyone in between — and I’m getting it tossed back at me, getting turned around and beat down.

But I won’t back down, no, I really won’t.  I won’t change.  I won’t enjoy their fashions.  I won’t be a part of their system.  I will do what I do and cover myself when I need to.  You may wonder about my mask, why I choose to wear it when others may indeed know my true identity?  What is the point then?  Well, you may soon find out.  You may indeed.

Note to Self : Do Not Forget

As I find myself back in my room, almost immobilized by the combined weight of all the madness preceding, I find myself unable to understand what it is I ever wanted in the first place.  The weight of my cumulative systematic plans and my variably invariable layers is reducing my flexibility, most notably my mental agility in trying to understand, see, what is indeed being thrown at me, and who indeed is doing the throwing.

So I get lost in a cigarette, ready aim fire, and blow plumes of frustration into the ether, sometimes in ring form.  I get lost in remembering, and I’m now realizing the danger in this, as I only need to remember one thing: do not forget, see.

Do not forgot what it is that got me here in the first place.  And, most importantly, don’t forget that I know the steps to getting out of here in one piece.  It’s all part of the plan.

I let myself get swept up in events that pull me under, almost farther down than I can muster — I mean, everyone has a threshold of how much he or she can overcome.  I’ve FELT close to mine, but I can’t tell, and I don’t know how much longer I should push towards this very real edge.  I really don’t.

Note to Self : What Sorts of Things Have I Seen?

I will acknowledge that I have entertained an odd situation or two in my day, but I really mean it when I say that I have never seen some of the situations in similar circumstances at previous points in my short time on this hot and salty planet.  There are things which do not make much sense and there are things which make a bit of sense and then there are things, well, I just have a hard time keeping a straight face when talking about this latter class of things.

I put a cigarette in my mouth and with the lighter I pulled the trigger.  Sometimes all I must do is have a smoke and then have a think and then things such as these are making more sense.  But it seems as though this is not always the case, and certainly not at this point in time, although, perhaps, in some moments, my luck will change …

Note to Self: Two Bags Allowed on This Flight

I try to go through my life without carrying too much baggage with me.  I’m specifically talking about baggage created via interactions I’ve had with people; this baggage is typically emotional, sometime psychological, always unsatisfying.  In fact, it often requires a great amount of thought on my part, and I haven’t even told you how much I do not enjoy thinking, although I would not be surprised if you haven’t figured this out yet.

For one, I need to find space in my head to think just a little bit about this baggage (if the baggage is already there, it’s obvious I don’t know how to get rid of it or I already would have, so yes, I’m going to need to think about it), mainly to assess it every so often to make sure it’s not something that can casually be packed into a tighter corner or, best case scenario, jettisoned. 

For the longest time I never realized it was possible to carry a limited amount of baggage.  I always assumed baggage could keep piling up and piling up until the point where the weight of it was not only completely unsatisfying but would cripple me into drastically altering my lifestyle (I don’t know what this means, but I’m speculating that, yes, I would not appreciate this).  But the beauty of floating through the years is in realizing that the longer you float, the easier it is to retain the qualities of a floating entity.  I mean, specifically, I am not physically able to carry around as much baggage as I was ten years ago.  My head will do whatever it takes, actually, to jettison some of that baggage and further keep myself afloat with minimal effort.  That way I can continue to float and experience the added benefit of having less baggage to deal with.  This is also a function of acquiring the skills to prevent certain types of bags from boarding my flight (i.e. my screening processes are a bit more strict these days). 

I’m really thinking of making things better for myself in quite a few ways, and this strikes me as being one of the easier issues to tackle, this baggage.  I really think I can help myself here.

Note to Self: There are More than Two Sides to Every Coin, Really

Some people are averse to pain.  I thought I was, but now I’m not sure if I mind it, although I can’t remember the last time I’ve experienced intense pain, like really intense pain, like pulling an oak door shut before your finger can get away.  But there’s that gray area in the middle that people don’t really talk about much, the dull sense of something being wrong, something unidentifiable.  It could be pain, it could be discomfort, or it could be a figment of the ol’ brain.

I’ve always felt, see, that I’ve existed in this space.  Not to be a downer because I think that’s an OK spot to be in.  I think others are also in this spot, and I think they’ve reconciled that as well, even though they may think they don’t have any company, which is just not true, I really think it’s untrue.

No one has ever really asked me about it.  I mean, how would anyone know to ask?  Most people can’t properly identify themselves.  Most people (and when I say Most, I refer to everyone who I think I know who may fit into this category, see, but they may not and may not appreciate a label of sorts) exist in this void that makes other voids seem normal.  If this void exists in more than one place, and possibly in every place in between those two places, does that make it a verifiable void?  No one has ever told me, but I assume these things, if only because if I don’t think about this kinda stuff, no one else will.  I think I’ve mentioned this before and I just wanted to make that clear.

People, and I mean some people, expect black and white, forward or backward, on or off.  And sometimes things don’t work that way.  That’s all I’m saying.

Note to Self : Don’t Get Too Confident

I can already see you there, smirking, smugly muttering to yourself about how things are going to fall apart before my very eyes: you’ll be discovered, see! Those roommates have more head in those heads than you’ll ever realize! But after smirking back in your direction, maybe even tossing my head back for a quick chuckle, bringing my eyes back down to yours with a stern look, I’ll remind you, you see, about the lessons I’ve learned from others, and how it’s practically next to impossibly possible that I will trip up here. I mean, I’ve learned from the worst. There’s a definition that applies here:

Main Entry: smug
Pronunciation: 'sm&g
Function: adjective
Inflected Form(s): smug·ger; smug·gest
Etymology: probably modification of Low German smuck neat, from Middle Low German, from smucken to dress; akin to Old English smoc smock

3 : highly self-satisfied

Self-satisfied, indeed! Like I’ve told you before once, or twice, or several times more than you’re willing to comprehend, I’ve seen some bad things happen to good people who absolutely must resort to the same types of things I resort to in order to keep myself sane. I see it all too often: the sloppiness, the tracks not covered, the air of “I’ve seen everything and have all my bases covered” bit (I’m not cutting you any slack for that cognitive weakness). I now understand why it happens, how you’re lulled into complacency by the routine. It ALMOST happened to me (and I stress, almost), but I’ve become good at spotting my points of weakness and complacency. I won’t allow it to happen me, see. I really won’t.

But I take pride in my track record because I’ve seen the best of the best fall, usually when they THINK they’re on top of their game, but of course they aren’t — they’re shades of what they once were, beaten down by the product they base their life around. There’s another dictionary definition that applies here:

washed-up
Pronunciation: 'wosht-'&p, 'wäsht-
Function: adjective
: no longer successful, skillful, popular, or needed

No longer successful, and success is the only outcome I can accept — I mean, we know the alternative.

We know the alternative.  WE HAVE SEEN IT!

Note to Self : Don’t Worry About Him, Next to You

That person very well is thinking the same thing about that thing that you’re thinking about, and what if he isn’t?  Then he is, as they say, a lost cause.

I can’t allow myself to be distracted by what I can’t control.  In Miami, where the roads all go nowhere and even if they go somewhere the end is not that pretty, that person next to you isn’t worried about a THING.  Think about where you are — no, wait, don’t, because no one else does!  It doesn’t make a difference anyway.

Unless you believe in things like idle conversation, don’t fall prey to opening your mouth and filling the air and heads of others with chatter, because it’s mindless, see, and it won’t get you or them anywhere.

I’ve got too many things going through my head right now too worry about this.  Move on, please!

Note to Self : Don’t Worry About Playing Well With Others

See, I get extremely aggravated when my planets are not aligned — disregard that it seems as though my planets have permanently fallen out of orbit. I mean, lets talk about my personal living space: it’s the way I want it should be, especially regarding the current alignment! Things always fall into order as they may. If I were to, and I may, drop a handful of marbles on the table, they, those marbles, will each go a direction that makes the most sense regarding the particular path of that marble in that given moment! That is the way it should be. I will not try to stop that, I really won’t, and it’s a promise I don’t even need to make to myself.

But humans are warped, especially those others around me. If I were to take a handful of THEM, and if they fit into my hand I would do so, and drop them on the table, the first reaction would not be to move forward toward that most logical destination, but to stop dead in the tracks, look back, and ask the owner of that hand what exactly is that hand doing in the first place!

See, herein lies my problem. I’ve dealt with all that human goop obfuscating brain waves for far too long. The waves, my own waves, they don’t do me any harm, because I can receive them without residue. They only have a short distance to travel. But when those waves originate from another source, those sources I cannot and will not call my own, as they are directed towards me through the goop that has developed after years and years of training and experiential this-and-that, well, they just are very unattractive by the time I get a chance to decode them. So many times, I do not bother. I simply do not want all that goopy residue anywhere near my clean waves.

But I can’t continue to worry about this stuff, especially regarding the people who live around me. See, we are each entitled, as rulers of our own domains, to do as we will. I certainly would not want to take that away from anyone. But lets keep this in perspective: I have a job to do, and it has to do with number one, the head honcho,. not numbers two or three or five or whatever numbers that aren’t one.

I mean, it comes down to this: don’t call me insensitive if I won’t give proper thought to your problems. I have my own. They’re buried in there. I’m sitting on them, and letting them stew in the goop.