Discipline or Disappointment-or an Evolution of Sorts
Funny I really have been trying to skew towards the positive lately even with some of the things my mind somehow reads with certainly a lot more hope than there’s been.
Yesterday Don and I got up and had breakfast in the place across the way and made a friend. It all came with our discussion about being election alcoholics and a woman across from us told us she left her fiance and job because of Trump–maybe it’s a little more of an epidemic than we are really comfortable acknowledging. This woman was having brunch with a girl we ended up befriending, walking home with, meeting her pups. We all commiserated on the election, the state of things, the fact we had dogs as our kids and maybe that was more of a thing than many want to admit. We drank, and a lot, finally having that co-misery populated with just more than me and Don.
Interesting as an adult you probably meet people capable of the same social capacities you might have. You talk about dogs and dog dates and writing letters to the city with the child-less community and after school programs and other ways to get your children out of your hair as regular adults…I tease but there is a definitely a spread of responsibility lacking in not having children of course. But at the end of the day there are less people responsible for you and your evolution deterioration degradation, you know, getting old. I still think it would be pretty damn funny if I lived older than I want (basically when I feel it or look it), fuck it—and not just old but to the point where capability and cognition are damaged to the point of lesser return. Meaning when I stop remembering everything…and honest to god there are some phantoms of stories and people and faces and ideas. You all meant something but no amount of money can pull the strings of memory to enough specifics to pull something truthful out. Which might just mean I do have to fictionalize that part of a life, maybe not use it as a representation of what happened to me but the musings of a girl remembering someone else’s life, which is more what it’s like. But at some point the likelihood that my short term memory leaves me an embarrassed old woman, just like my grandmother now, parroting stories to people who don’t care, don’t know the characters, or who really just want to be left alone? Yeah, we all want to be killed off before we become annoying Great Aunt Trudy (not her real name.)
The sheer number of men I have gone out with is something you’d think I’d have more than just a dictionary of faces, laughs and dicks, not necessarily alphabetized–honestly when I think about it sometimes it is enough to almost make me feel like I should be ashamed but then I realize…this body I have is a mangled thing–not a pretty thing mind you, not entirely ugly..but kind of mangled if you can appreciate symmetry and a good line. The curves are minimal… Obviously my face is clearly not awful…but yeah…my body is my body is a body is nothing I care much for given it’s railroad tracks of experiences floating on the surface all over it. Not a fan of my scars. I am not ashamed of them. I certainly make almost no effort to hide them. They certainly have not been a huge impediment to me having plenty of opportunity to get naked and enjoy myself, that is the truth.
I do sometimes use my scars as a deflector of shitty people. If I go to the hot springs in my bikini and people get weird and quiet (or literally repel themselves away), well fuck them. This actually happens more often than it doesn’t–HOWEVER, I have learned to appreciate the times when it doesn’t as good days where we have careened onto the paths of better people. Man there really are a lot of shitty ones out there though, and that’s nothing you want to necessarily be reminded of, but my god. Look at America today, I mean FUCKING. LOOK. AT. IT. Tired yet? Yeah, me too. I am going to find a way to run guys…I think he just made single payer an inevitability otherwise we are all leaving the country for real medical care. And if I had to LEAVE the fucking country I live in because it wants to punish me for being sick to the point of no affordability–why would I even bother coming back? I wouldn’t. Not until everyone grows the fuck up and realizes we are all in this together.
Yesterday was a good day…let’s see how the rest of the week goes.
Big fucking changes people. I am done being the me that came to be and losing the clever one along the way…
