that life that is slowly waking

"In the depths on your green eyes, you loafer, I can clearly see the land of laziness. I can see golden hills where you will bask. I can see the sofas of your many-houred snoozes. I can see heaps of notebooks you will never cover with writing. I can see the thousand peaceful cities where you will live from day to day, a thousand peaceful white cities of phlegmatic architecture and friendly climate. Torrid heat reigns from early morning. A streetcar, open on both sides, is making its way through green pastures. Oh, how sweet it will be, to live in the heart of that life that is slowly waking but always nodding off again before final awakening. Open windows, dark apartments, the somnolent dramas of the residents, an oval table covered with a cloth, the remains of banquets that never end, hammocks, easy chairs, old architecture, a thousand gentle rivers under a thousand old bridges, lazy girls going for walks along grassy shores...I'm afraid it's already too late. If you have the misfortune to chance upon a lazy body at the very beginning of your youth, you'll be lost for life. Your innate tendency toward laziness will be awakened and set for all time, and you'll spend your entire life searching for the promised land of laziness. You'll pass through a thousand peaceful cities. All your life you'll hunger for lazy arms. You won't live, you'll sleep instead."*

Be patient with me. Nothing I'd ever say out loud, in the real world. In the real world I'm always tapping my fingers, ready to move on, always rushing around. Inside though, alone in my room, I beg the world for patience. I have to have the exact right amount of time to write. The exact right amount of uneasiness and unhappiness, but not too much, because then I'll be busy taking care of it. There's always something to take care of, but it's hard taking care of ones own self.

I thought that lately I'd been happy. I was wrong. I'm not even sure I deserve to be happy, but really I think I was just being lazy. When it's easy to sleep past noon and stay up with someone, one on one, why wouldn't you? I realized that I need a break from being self-indulgent. This weekend I drank a lot, ran around with old friends and caused some trouble. It was fun, but I got sick and had to lay in bed for the past three days thinking. I mean really Thinking. Maybe that made me even more sick. I realized I still have a lot of work to do before I can be really happy, and that does seem like the point, to me anyway, just to be happy in the end. I saw my friend Charlie this weekend and he said he missed reading my blog, he asked why I'd been so busy, why I haven't been writing, and over beers I realized I didn't have a good excuse. So here you go Charlie, this ones for you.

Rose Cross has one song about partying. The gist is "turn off my brain" and I hop up and down and pogo and it sounds happy but it isn't. I spend a lot of time wondering why I have to be the one to think so goddamn hard. Everyone else seems ok most of the time, like nine out of ten people can walk into a messy room and feel fine and I'm the tenth person that walks in and completely looses it. Going into work and fixing other peoples mistakes, cleaning up after people, putting things back in their place...where does that bone in my body come from? Why can't I coast along, doing the bare minimum, smiling dumbly and dutifully? I get frustrated at everyone's lack of interest with the problems around them, and am worn out always trying to fix them. I often feel like I don't have much to show for it either. Sure, I work a lot, but I'd have rather been at that Halloween party than standing behind the bar for eight hours. I had a really amazing boyfriend for about five months but then I freaked out, thought I was doing everything wrong, felt depressed and ended it (that is the very, very short version of the story). If I could let things go...wouldn't I be happier?

Well fuck that. I'm not going to let New Years sneak up on me. I'm making my resolution now. No more sleeping in, no more comfort, no more easy living. I'm going to be writing more, updating this more, and trying to fix all the goddamn problems, and I don't care how unhappy it makes me. In the end it'll probably be worth it. Probably.

*Jerzy Pilch, A Thousand Peaceful Cities