Catalyst Echo's quite irresponsible and relatively silly adventure (day 1, part 2)
So... where did I leave off? (http://microchaotic.livejournal.com/388677.html)
Oh, right. The driving void.... the electric feeling of yes.
So, I drove. And drove. And drove. It didn't seem like a long time but with only a few CDs and a dawn full of sunlight that blended (unseemlessly) into day... I started to wonder exactly where I was going and why.
The "where" was less important. I had plenty of "where" ideas and knew I'd end up someplace. It was the "why" that got captured in the net of thought and struck the chord that harmonized with my drive.
So I thought.
Why?
Why leave? Why now? And why not?
I could run down the reasons for you but I worry about the effect of my words on those few people who might still be reading this journal.
However.....
Let's put this to music, shall we? My mindset could be most easily explained if you understand the song I had on repeat at this time in the journey.
black empathy box - "you can't _ more than I can _"
Go ahead. right click on that link and open the MP3 in a new window. I can wait.
Now listen. Close your eyes and pretend you are driving at about 90 miles an hour along route 10 in the Arizona desert after the sun has just settled comfortably in the vast blue sky. Pretend you have a mild headache from Todd's super strong rum and cokes at Nemesis. Pretend your mind is a dizzy little tizzy of thought. Pretend you felt trapped... that you had always felt trapped almost all your life but you were good at making the best of things and shaking your cage enough to keep going... pretend symbols of your cage existed in the car and pretend you threw those symbols out the fucking window at 90 and watched them explode into shards behind you on the empty road.
Think of your glee as you watch them shatter splat and die on the road.... Imagine how quickly those shattered symbols were already behind you. Pretend your life feels like shards of glass shattering on the road around you and that the driving feels like fucking freedom.
Think of how far you've come.
Now listen again. Go ahead, just click the little arrow and put the song back on. I want you here, under my bangs with me while I talk about this. I want you hiding behind my hair while I tell you about the desert... while we talk about flying.... all windows down, the sunroof opened, the open road, the world at large... I want you to be in the car with me... alone on the 10 freeway, just me and the trucks... weavedancedriving faster than we probably should be driving... freaking out a LOT MORE than is healthy... wind whipping our hair around like a tempest... thoughts of treason... thoughts too loud and music not loud enough (for those of you who have had the pleasure of driving with me, you'll appreciate it when I say that even my car's sound system was not enough to drown out my crazychaosvibrant mind... except for THIS SONG).
Picture yourself exactly as I was. Or remember a time when you felt that way. Do you have that idea firmly in place? Are you with me? Let's say you are....
Now, in the interest of truth, let's dish.
I fucked up. At Nemesis, I screwed the pooch when it comes to conversations. I started to tell a very good friend about my chaos world in hopes that she would help me. At the time, I thought she had a relatively solid mind and a decent connection to the otherworldly.... I wanted her to read tarot for me... I was desperate in my search for direction. BUT, I didn't have a goal when I started talking (I rarely do) so I fumblefucked a conversation that was supposed to be a cry for help. I was trying to tell her how fucked I felt my world was. How lost I was. And I cited an example that had connotations I wasn't really aware of when I brought it up.
See, a few days before I'd shared a bottle of JD with a friend and smoked pot (something I don't normally do) with his roommates. He had the Sandman collection books I didn't have yet so I found myself stuck in the Vertigo world of Neil Gaiman's fan-fucking-tastic comic opus. I'd read it before, of course.... but I needed that kind of anchor... something familiar and full of old inspiration. I separated myself from the group to read.
So, I went upstairs to read in the warmth of his room. My plan was to read for a while, return the book and grab my things to drive home once I'd sobered up a bit. It was a good plan... a responsible plan... a plan that didn't involve me drinking more alcohol or smoking more pot. I liked it at the time. I was pleased with myself for thinking of it. It was a very good plan.
But it failed. I sat down on his bed, got semi-comfy and promptly passed the fuck out.
Now, this was probably the better of my various options at that point. I was in no condition to drive home and my mind was full of my recent medical and emotional issues. But, still. I'd never ever not even once fallen asleep at someone's house without planning to do so. Ever.
I have insomnia. So no matter how tired I am, I always go home.
But not this time. (as a side note: that is why I brought it up to the friend in the first place. It was an example of how far I felt I'd fallen. I've never slept over at anyone's house... I've never gotten so fucked up that I passed out either.... I don't sleep anywhere except in my own bed.... not even at Cathy's and I used to spent a LOT of time at Cathy's house).
So. When I brought this up to my friend at Nemesis, I screwed it up royally. I was careless, chaos and vibrant violent with anxiety. To top it off, there was history between the girl and the boy. History I'd witnessed. History I thought was in the past but.... well... you know how the past is. It has this tendency to inform the present. And I wasn't thinking of that at all.
When I opened my mouth at Nemesis I was being entirely selfish... a rare thing for me. I can't ask for help.... I just hate asking for help. But I was trying with an amateur's sensibilities and a chaos filled, half drunk mind...
I am not entirely sure what was said but I knew after the first sentence that I was doing it wrong. She asked me a question and I tried to backtrack with a white lie but as soon as it came out of my mouth, I knew that was wrong too. Things were moving fast that night. I was drunker than I knew I was and my attempts to fix the situation were... well... not very good.
Suffice to say, I clusterfucked a friendship that actually meant a lot to me. It was the last straw in a series of changes I could not comprehend.
And that is what I was thinking about while driving through the Arizona desert.
Thoughts like: What is this world where even I can not think before I speak? How fucked up am I that I'd clusterfuck a good friendship carelessly simply because I was having a week long panic attack?
Then my tire blew.
I knew it was coming. That tire was doomed from the start of the drive. I knew it needed to be changed.... I saw the baldflatbubblefuck but at the time I just didn't care.
So my tire blew. I came back to reality, turned down my stereo and glided my Saturn to an offramp where I saw ... wait... right there... just a few yards away.... A TOW TRUCK! HALLELUJAH! Synchronicity.
Mind you, I was about 30 miles outside of Phoenix at this point so getting a tow truck out there and getting my car to safety would have been quite a chore even for my blackberry. But there he was with a flatbed tow truck and only one car (also with a blown out tire) half loaded...
I ran over. We chatted. He agreed to take me to a tire place for a significantly reduced towing fee (since he was already headed there anyway). We guided my car onto the skids and I hopped in the cab and we were off!
Oh, right. The driving void.... the electric feeling of yes.
So, I drove. And drove. And drove. It didn't seem like a long time but with only a few CDs and a dawn full of sunlight that blended (unseemlessly) into day... I started to wonder exactly where I was going and why.
The "where" was less important. I had plenty of "where" ideas and knew I'd end up someplace. It was the "why" that got captured in the net of thought and struck the chord that harmonized with my drive.
So I thought.
Why?
Why leave? Why now? And why not?
I could run down the reasons for you but I worry about the effect of my words on those few people who might still be reading this journal.
However.....
Let's put this to music, shall we? My mindset could be most easily explained if you understand the song I had on repeat at this time in the journey.
black empathy box - "you can't _ more than I can _"
Go ahead. right click on that link and open the MP3 in a new window. I can wait.
Now listen. Close your eyes and pretend you are driving at about 90 miles an hour along route 10 in the Arizona desert after the sun has just settled comfortably in the vast blue sky. Pretend you have a mild headache from Todd's super strong rum and cokes at Nemesis. Pretend your mind is a dizzy little tizzy of thought. Pretend you felt trapped... that you had always felt trapped almost all your life but you were good at making the best of things and shaking your cage enough to keep going... pretend symbols of your cage existed in the car and pretend you threw those symbols out the fucking window at 90 and watched them explode into shards behind you on the empty road.
Think of your glee as you watch them shatter splat and die on the road.... Imagine how quickly those shattered symbols were already behind you. Pretend your life feels like shards of glass shattering on the road around you and that the driving feels like fucking freedom.
Think of how far you've come.
Now listen again. Go ahead, just click the little arrow and put the song back on. I want you here, under my bangs with me while I talk about this. I want you hiding behind my hair while I tell you about the desert... while we talk about flying.... all windows down, the sunroof opened, the open road, the world at large... I want you to be in the car with me... alone on the 10 freeway, just me and the trucks... weavedancedriving faster than we probably should be driving... freaking out a LOT MORE than is healthy... wind whipping our hair around like a tempest... thoughts of treason... thoughts too loud and music not loud enough (for those of you who have had the pleasure of driving with me, you'll appreciate it when I say that even my car's sound system was not enough to drown out my crazychaosvibrant mind... except for THIS SONG).
Picture yourself exactly as I was. Or remember a time when you felt that way. Do you have that idea firmly in place? Are you with me? Let's say you are....
Now, in the interest of truth, let's dish.
I fucked up. At Nemesis, I screwed the pooch when it comes to conversations. I started to tell a very good friend about my chaos world in hopes that she would help me. At the time, I thought she had a relatively solid mind and a decent connection to the otherworldly.... I wanted her to read tarot for me... I was desperate in my search for direction. BUT, I didn't have a goal when I started talking (I rarely do) so I fumblefucked a conversation that was supposed to be a cry for help. I was trying to tell her how fucked I felt my world was. How lost I was. And I cited an example that had connotations I wasn't really aware of when I brought it up.
See, a few days before I'd shared a bottle of JD with a friend and smoked pot (something I don't normally do) with his roommates. He had the Sandman collection books I didn't have yet so I found myself stuck in the Vertigo world of Neil Gaiman's fan-fucking-tastic comic opus. I'd read it before, of course.... but I needed that kind of anchor... something familiar and full of old inspiration. I separated myself from the group to read.
So, I went upstairs to read in the warmth of his room. My plan was to read for a while, return the book and grab my things to drive home once I'd sobered up a bit. It was a good plan... a responsible plan... a plan that didn't involve me drinking more alcohol or smoking more pot. I liked it at the time. I was pleased with myself for thinking of it. It was a very good plan.
But it failed. I sat down on his bed, got semi-comfy and promptly passed the fuck out.
Now, this was probably the better of my various options at that point. I was in no condition to drive home and my mind was full of my recent medical and emotional issues. But, still. I'd never ever not even once fallen asleep at someone's house without planning to do so. Ever.
I have insomnia. So no matter how tired I am, I always go home.
But not this time. (as a side note: that is why I brought it up to the friend in the first place. It was an example of how far I felt I'd fallen. I've never slept over at anyone's house... I've never gotten so fucked up that I passed out either.... I don't sleep anywhere except in my own bed.... not even at Cathy's and I used to spent a LOT of time at Cathy's house).
So. When I brought this up to my friend at Nemesis, I screwed it up royally. I was careless, chaos and vibrant violent with anxiety. To top it off, there was history between the girl and the boy. History I'd witnessed. History I thought was in the past but.... well... you know how the past is. It has this tendency to inform the present. And I wasn't thinking of that at all.
When I opened my mouth at Nemesis I was being entirely selfish... a rare thing for me. I can't ask for help.... I just hate asking for help. But I was trying with an amateur's sensibilities and a chaos filled, half drunk mind...
I am not entirely sure what was said but I knew after the first sentence that I was doing it wrong. She asked me a question and I tried to backtrack with a white lie but as soon as it came out of my mouth, I knew that was wrong too. Things were moving fast that night. I was drunker than I knew I was and my attempts to fix the situation were... well... not very good.
Suffice to say, I clusterfucked a friendship that actually meant a lot to me. It was the last straw in a series of changes I could not comprehend.
And that is what I was thinking about while driving through the Arizona desert.
Thoughts like: What is this world where even I can not think before I speak? How fucked up am I that I'd clusterfuck a good friendship carelessly simply because I was having a week long panic attack?
Then my tire blew.
I knew it was coming. That tire was doomed from the start of the drive. I knew it needed to be changed.... I saw the baldflatbubblefuck but at the time I just didn't care.
So my tire blew. I came back to reality, turned down my stereo and glided my Saturn to an offramp where I saw ... wait... right there... just a few yards away.... A TOW TRUCK! HALLELUJAH! Synchronicity.
Mind you, I was about 30 miles outside of Phoenix at this point so getting a tow truck out there and getting my car to safety would have been quite a chore even for my blackberry. But there he was with a flatbed tow truck and only one car (also with a blown out tire) half loaded...
I ran over. We chatted. He agreed to take me to a tire place for a significantly reduced towing fee (since he was already headed there anyway). We guided my car onto the skids and I hopped in the cab and we were off!