Friday, November 2, 2007

Sunday, May 27, 2007 - original post date on

Random, Useless, Discourse 20: I am Veruca. And I Want My Oompah-Loompah Now!

Is a forced epiphany any good? Is it a valid Saul-to-Paul revelation on high? Or is it the end result of your unconscious getting bored with itself?

I didn't go into my weekend with any grand illusions of revelation. I did not expect the meaning of life and whatnot to be revealed to me in my moment of mundane – struck as it were by Cassandra-like lightning, all made clear by the shock and purity.

No. I merely wanted to work something out. To sort some feelings. To catalog them and identify them for what they truly are.

There are people in this world who do this naturally. In the moment of the happening. Those who have control, discipline, and patience, can trust themselves enough to trust their emotions. I, however, am not one of those people.

I am for all reasons of debate and understanding, a 12-year-old girl. I react quickly and intensely. Passion and entertainment are what guide me. What lure me along my snail-trail, the slow crawl of life progressing. Skipping and speeding along when you least want it to. I have no control. No discipline. And Lord help me, no patience.

This state of emotional affairs was, at best, cute in my twenties. But now, they are thinning even to me. I do so very much want to be like the others. Those who do not jump. Those who do not feel their insides screaming with the churning of molten impulse. But I do not understand them. I do not know how to be them.

How can they not be kinetic? How are they not in motion? How do they do it? How are their urges subjugated and relegated to the background? I am the id-ridden and they are the super-ego-plus.

I know I disappoint them. Really I must. How could I not? They tell me to use more discipline. To think before reacting. But God help me, I can't on my own! Do they not feel the same whirling? Sirens, doppling-by, in their hearts? Their core gutted and tossed, landing in Pollackesque dripped-chaos where hues mingle and blend into the pretty pretty grey of homogony and the true struggle is to sort out the real from the unreal. To react to only one set and not all. Do they not have this battle? How do they know they are alive, then?

I do so very badly want to be the stable, conscious, rational friend and lover to them all. I WANT to be but I'm not sure I NEED to be. If I've learned anything from them, it is that wants and needs are separate entities and differentiating them is the first step in controlling your actions.

How much can I give up before I lose who I am? How is what I am not good enough right now? Why must I change?

Of course I know why I must change, to some degree. I react like a child. It is selfish and it is small. I have no option. This is not how an adult moves.

I just need help. To find the balance. To be the adult but still be me. I am a random energy. When I meet someone new, I want to devour them. I want their conscious, their breath, and their thoughts on me. My reaction is a magnesium-tape lit and supernova. And I am alive.

While not an epiphany, I've realized this much: I'll be patient. And controlled. And disciplined. Again, I don't want to disappoint. My guilt-drive is even more powerful than my reaction center. I'll wait for my oompah-loompah, whoever he is. I just hope he doesn't give up or give in before I'm ready. And I hope that when it is time, I'm still Kristy-enough to need him.

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