Wednesday Comes After Tuesday and Tuesdays are Blue but Never Pink

(Sidenote: I wrote this several years ago and stumbled across it again recently. I’m posting it here because I rather like it. Enjoy!)

I am behind at this because there hasn’t been anything to say, but really there’s been a lot to say and no time or motivation to write it down. Now it’s all just a lost block of events that will only be meaningless until one of them accidentally changes the world. This was supposed to be a Reflection paper, however, once I started writing, the words just wanted to come out without a label, and so… I allowed them.

Adrift as I may be, I am still moving. This has become my mantra. Without knowing any behind-the-scenes details about myself, you probably can’t appreciate how monumental feeling and believing this statement really is.

I never know things are out of hand until there are crumbs on my shoes. This makes no sense until you lean in a little.

I’ve come to know I am a reactor that takes in more than it refuses and I can still make everything unlivable for the rest of human history including the Sheik of Budapest.

And I wonder, of the things I’ve done, who among you really wants to know? I wonder, what absolution do you bring to the table? I don’t seek solace in churches I’ve never bowed in before and I’ve never asked anyone I don’t know for anything. So how dare you state, “Let’s at least hope you’re a better writer than you are a mother.”

I’d never admit it out-loud but my face felt sunburned on the inside when it was said.

If you want to know, I might tell you, but please remember I am under no obligation of the sort. Maybe I can accept being a gossip and maybe I can’t. What time is it?

That being said, I am doing fairly well in my own convictions for this year (thankyouverymuch) and I’m sorry there are people who don’t take me seriously… or they take me too seriously. I cannot comprehend their feeble minds.

The bottom line of anything that has to do with me is very simple: I don’t owe you anything and I expect that same amount of obligation in return from others. Why some people would expect me to so much as tell them it’s dark outside is beyond me. I am many things, but stupid is not a trait among them.

It’s kind of funny the sort of people who take me at the face value they assign to me and then get hunched over when I don’t give them what they want to hear.

I’m happier now than I think I have been in the last five years. Considering that last month I was borderline (no pun intended) miserable, I can see that it might seem like trompe l’esprit and I wonder that myself. If it is, then I’ll get over it eventually and start again. If it’s not, then this is what I’ve been waiting for and I pity the foggy bastard who schemes to take it from me.

I don’t know exactly what changed, or when, but it DID. Sometime, maybe while I was sleeping, a switch flipped in a closet somewhere over the international date line and there it was…

The point is, I feel different and I can feel a difference in things around me.

I am calmer and things are slower. I like that but I didn’t expect that I would. (To note, I like arrogance as much as the next girl but there has to be something there to be rightfully arrogant about.)

I have a lot of things to do and I don’t even remember when I stopped doing them… and in some cases, I never stopped, I just… let them go a little bit which was still too much. It was the catalyst that set me on a collision course that managed to encounter a few tailspins as well. I may regret that for the rest of my life but it won’t be the only thing.

If it’s worth so much to anyone to wag their tongues about what I am and what I’m not and what I say and what I don’t, then the generous thing to do would be to let them have at it. Obviously they have so much going for them that they have time to spare and who am I to fault anyone for that?

Of course I will fault them, because I can criticize anyone for anything, but I’m not going to put myself into a winch knot over that fact.

Not being liked, not holding the respect of people I don’t care about, and not fitting the criteria they themselves assigned me won’t make me vanish into thin air. I still exist and I want to say I’m sorry that’s such a bitter pill for people to swallow, but I’m really not sorry. I kind of gain gratification from knowing ten years from now, I’ll still prey upon their plural-but-very-singular minds and they’ll still have something nasty to say in my memory.

That, gentlemen and ladies, used to be what it was all about and nearly regretfully, it’s not anymore.

I didn’t see “the light” or find Jesus or get taken aboard Zenu’s alien spacecraft for probing… I am still me, I just really don’t have a problem with being “me,” (at the moment) and it feels like a good thing to be alive. And really, who wouldn’t I share that with?

It would be nothing short of criminal not to run it for all it is worth.

Comments are closed.