So, my regular updates to the blog are going fucking well then!! – Only 2 posts in 3 months. What is happening to me? The ideal utopia of having a blog to splurge the irreverent shit in my noodle is not panning out to be the enlightened dawning I anticipated. It’s becoming a personal failing: a woeful reminder of my inability to get things done and a vehicle to heap guilt upon myself for doing fuck all.
This negativity is further accentuated with the knowledge that heaping this shit on me will ultimately reduce my motivation and therefore further repeat the negative pattern. Ha, right there, in the last 2 sentences, I’ve possibly defined a major component of the human condition. Fundamentally, we create our own self-propelling downward spirals and when we’re aware of them, we spiral faster. I’m reinventing myself as a cat, they seem to non-chalantly meander in a guilt-free pleasure seeking existence. They’d be narcissists if they were offensive but they just don’t give a fuck to warrant a negative enough reaction from anything or anyone. They can do anything they want and be loved for it, the cute furry little shits.
My creativity seems to have been suppressed of late which relates to a central issue in my life that is pulling me down. This issue falls into the norms of life I think. There’s no outlandish concerns of being stressed because the latest album isn’t selling so well or the roadies are giving us shit. I’d like those stressors.
It’s not that the super-models I’ve been double dating have fallen in love with each other and are insisting I have a sex change to be with them. What would I do in that fuckin situation? Would I live with the constant rejection as I watch them cavort together, gently wanking and wiping away the tears to avoid bluring my vision of the erotic beauties ahead of me. Can you wank and cry at the same time? (apparently you can – I’ve just googled it. That’s hilarious, how bizarre would it be to witness that?). So cry-wanking on one hand and sex change and collaborative fun on the other. It seems like an easy decision, but I imagine the sex-change option is fraught with problems. Also, what if they go off you when you reinvent yourself as Tiffany. You’d end up re-releasing ‘I think We’re Alone Now’ as ‘I think I’m forever alone now’ and if you managed to keep you cock in the trans-gendering process, you could cry-wank to your own image, assuming that you’ve made yourself look pretty. That would be an even more bizarre thing to witness. At least being trans-gendered you’d be more socially acceptable and fashionable than being in your forties.
In relation to wanking over your own image, the term narcissist comes from Greek Mythology where Narcissus fell in love with his own image as it reflected in a pool of water. Maybe we can create another positive if becoming Tiffany goes wrong by reinventing the term ‘Tiffinist’. This sounds much nicer and maybe it’d be a nicer thing for the narcissists to be known by as they generally get a bad press although that is because they’re out and out cunts.
Anyhow, creativity has been suppressed and this is largely due to someone close being ill with a degenerative disease. This beings about such great emotions. Coping with the practicalities of care, the sadness of loss, the trauma of witnessing the tragedy unfolding and the effect it has on so many people close to you. The effect this is having on my partner is hardest to deal with. Her sadness, upset, grief and anxiety is horrible to observe. As the months have passed, I also have to contend with my own selfish feelings of loss of parts of her in this time and at times the resentment of being brought down by it all. Feeling sorry for myself and angry at this situation that I can’t control because I hate how the love and positively has reduced in my life is definitely part of my shadow side. This selfishness is placed into the black bag that’s hidden that contains the parts of me personality that I’m not proud of. I can try to deny this selfishness, but it leaks out of me as anger or self-pity. I try to accept these parts of me as they are and this allows a greater sense of clarity on the situation. This brings less self-hate when I’m not allowing the self-pity to dominate. This clarity also brings the undeniable truth that we should be affected and that we are affected – it’s horribly shit and I want to avoid feeling low and down about it but it’s unavoidable. It affects us because of the people we are and the values we uphold. It’s still fucking shit though and I wish it wasn’t happening. I wish things were normal and we were free to feel good and flourish happily as we experience the fruit of living our lives as we do. I wish I didn’t resent that we’re affected at times.
The frustrations of an overthinker 