Coffee Rhetoric: I Know This Much is True...

September 23, 2006

I Know This Much is True...

Over the course of 48 hours, I was approached by two strangers, respectively, and told "Wow, you must really like wearing black. Everytime I see you walking around, you have on black." Which makes me feel even more daft, because now I truly know that I'm being watched. No more tugging and picking at my undergarments, because no matter how inconspicuous I think I'm being, someone is watching and taking note.
Also, the other day, I tried in vain to peel the wrapper away from a piece of hard candy. The candy was too sticky, and I just couldn’t seem to get that inner wrapping away from the sweetness, so that I could enjoy it. While I was successful in removing most of the inedible layer, there were still random and stubborn pieces of paper that clung to that candy… how frustrating… and what a fitting metaphor to my life.

I realize that, I haven’t really been blogging anything substantive or personal, as of late. A lot of my entries have been little more than YouTube video clips and “My Favorite Things” lists. I’ve written to appease the reading masses, which I said I’d never do… just for the sake of staying current with posts, which is wrong, wrong, wrong and so against why I do this.

I'm still tortured and broody. I'm on an endless quest to explore my core, so as to understand these little demons as they frolic and play, at my expense! At times, my truth intimidates me and I withdraw and find myself at square one.

So much has unfolded and I’ve been wallowing in lassitude… grappling with many of life’s annoyances… still… Most of which is exacerbated by the politics related to my livelihood. It is becoming increasingly more difficult to trust people and their motives. I blogged about this paranoia before and the leeriness has not subsided. My neurosis knows no bounds, apparently.

There is so much I’m dying to purge here… I am torn because some of it begs to be laid out in resplendent detail. I almost decided to dismantle this blog completely, because the motivation just wasn’t there anymore. It probably would’ve made more sense to take an extended break, rather than compose the insipid tripe I’ve shared here.

I haven’t truly journaled in the literal sense, in a long time. I forgot how cathartic it is. It is so important for me to not lose sight of that outlet, because it influences a lot of my writing, as well as what I relay here.

After hitting an amazing creative flow, it had all but dried up and the block defiantly planted itself right in my path. I just ceased to emote… becoming stoic, reclusive, and self-contained. I allowed other people’s dark clouds to rain buckets on me, becoming meaner, fatigued, and combative as a result.

I’ve always had an Id… an alter-ego that I used to channel my frustrations and anger through, to maintain my center. That personality has been lying dormant for months… growing weary and exasperated. That mean-streak has found its way into my regular life, creating a sullen young woman. It disappears however, during random moments of silliness and gratification, which ‘pear out from the abyss… waving and beckoning to me feverishly.

I’m holding a séance, and I’m resurrecting that id of mine. I need my usual self back. I want to give in (completely) to those moments of happiness I enjoy so much. My id is hanging on by the tips of her fingers in a void, suspended somewhere between space and time, desperate to relieve me of the duress… I’m holding a séance and exorcising the anger… the fatigue… I put in a call to Hathor, and I’ve dusted off those books that throb with the chronicles of my life.

I’ve truly realized just how resilient and tough as nails- (despite the rust around the edges)- I am.