Wake Up Call -- Vent

Through the stress of this last week, fluctuation of my anticipated connections...to be satisfied or left waiting...regardless I suppose. I set myself up for it most of the time. It's the little stupid things sometimes, you know? Who parks in front of a fire hydrant? Who forgets their Social Security card when applying for a job? Who honestly gets used to seeing red negative signs? I guess I'd fit those categories, with a handful of others I'm sure. It is nice to get clarity from a stranger sometimes -- to remind you that you aren't that much of a dumbass when it comes to reality.  It's a nice feeling.  A feeling of subtle belonging.  Straight from a Chuck Palanuik story.  Completely and utterly abstract and twisted.  At times wondering, what is the point of this?  Then realizing at the end...it was never about finishing strong or climaxing at all, it was about the ride here.  Each and every little thing along the way that brought you a smile.  That's why the story is written.  Not like a strong ending isn't exciting though.  We all want to go out with a bang.  We all want the audience and to be praised.  However, you tend not to realize that things like panic are simply audience driven.  Who panics alone?  It's all one drama-jelly-doughnut filled cluster fuck of panic.  When you're 5 and smash your head into the table and fall on your bum, it's never a catastrophe until mom and dad run over.  Only then, do the tears flow.  I contemplate these words...these thoughts.  I wonder if I agree.  I've caught myself on more then one occasion alone, and in panic.  My tears have flowed in moments of complete isolation.  I suppose I am my own audience.  I make it interesting for myself, building my own little plot just to tell another story.  No one ran to the table to hold me.  Most of my life, I have learned to hug myself.  I cuddle with everything.  You ever stop to wonder if that is why some people like sleeping on couches?  Because it's up against you.  I snuggle with blanket, pillow, sheets, phone...myself.  I cling onto myself.  I am all that I really have.  I am the only one that I can really trust, right?

My grandma was rushed to the ER just recently.  She begged for an ambulance.  If you knew my grandma...this would trip you out.  Most stubborn woman on the planet.  I love her.  I'm too much like her.  This week has been a wake up call for me...too much has been happening that smashes me in the face and says, "Hello?  Dipshit?  You in there?  What are you thinking?".  But I blow it off.  I let the voices in my head talk to each other while I am their audience.  Panic is so much more with an audience... But I as much as I listen, I need to act.  I need to follow through.  I need to not get myself into things that I cannot handle.  I need to disengage slightly and let life carry me for a while, I am done carrying it on my back.  I am about to leave the country for a time.  So what can I possibly be worried about?  I can't wait to disappear.  Maybe this constant battle will seem more new and fresh upon my return.  Maybe I'll gain my second wind of motivation.  Ready to get stuff done.  I suppose time will only tell.  I do know one thing about myself.  One thing that I have always known.  I am a hopeless romantic.  I seek and long for an unheard of love.  It runs through my blood.  I want to find that girl that feels the same way.  I know she's looking for me too.  But sometimes I look too hard.  I don't want to find her yet anyway, it's too early.  So why do I persist to look?  Why do I persist to be drawn towards things that I know will just break me down harder then before?  I need to back off.  Of everything.  I need to let the wind carry me for a change.  Fifteen thousand miles.  Like a flight with no visa, first class with the seat back...I still see you.  I still feel you.  I always will.  So hear my words to you --

She's sun and rain, she's fire and ice.
A little crazy but it's nice.
And when she gets mad, you best leave her alone.
'Cause she'll rage just like a river.
Then she'll beg you to forgive her.
Oh, she's every woman that I've ever known.
She's so New York and then L.A.
And every town along the way.
And she's every place that I've never been.
She's makin' love on rainy nights.
She's a stroll through Christmas lights.

 And she's everything I want to do again.

She's anything but typical.

She's so unpredictable.

Oh but even at her worst she ain't that bad.

She's as real as real can be.

And she's every fantasy.

Lord she's every lover that I've ever had.

And she's every lover that I've never had.