This American Life…fuck.
This is one of those times when i want to write something in a particular way but I don’t want to write it here where I have certain expectations/connections/readers/friends. I don’t want to explain the thought, I want it to not need explanation. I know I probably won’t give explanation if prompted. I want to find a thread that may or may not exist and knot it tight.
Today, someone robbed the bank where I work and I was unaware of it happening, we all were upstairs. We strolled down in the middle of the day to leave and there were swarms of cop cars in the parking lot, but the drama was essentially over.
Work is…not something I need to share here. It needs to change. I need to change because that’s the only thing I have control over. That’s a whole post on its own that I am not going to write tonight.
You wrote me back if only just to confirm that your surgery went okay. I don’t know what exactly this surgery is aside from it being related to your arm. I don’t know if I can even 100% assume that it even happened. I don’t know why you had it and if it’s the first of many, if it fixed something, if it is part of some terrible bleak prognosis. I only know that we co-exist in such a way that you didn’t wait a day to tell me this. I only know that I was glad to hear it. This is stuff for my therapist, seriously. I miss my therapist, actually, and I don’t get to see her for almost another month. Apologies for all that will spew out of me between now and then.
There’s no news yet on my mother. I find myself able to think of it and not able to think of it and to step outside of any emotions I might typically have about it because I feel so loaded for bear right now. It has to wait. The worry for that has to wait and in the interim, I will glow like a glow-worm with love for her.
I am, despite my better judgment, looking into the soul-selling business. I skipped lunch and had pasta salad for dinner. I didn’t have Starbucks today by sheer accident.
I listened to This American Life – all about fatness and society’s current messaging and how varying people experience it. It was moving. Painfully easy to recognize myself there. Struggling towards acceptability, smallness vs. reality.
There just feels like some odd synchronicity in these otherwise unconnected events.
Mumford and Sons put out this beautiful new song along with Baaba Maal, the Very Best, and Beatenberg and I love it. Love it. The lyrics are amazing, pertinent, healing as those boys always find a way to make.
You don’t wanna turn away this time
Then why don’t you take a different line
Don’t have to be cruel to be kind
You don’t have to lose your mind
You don’t wanna suffer for your art
You don’t wanna vivisect your heart
And then if you’re falling apart
You’re probably trying too hard