Pretentious

I was feeling rather down for most of today. Feeling out of sorts or down usually prompts me to examine my gut and figure out what's causing the problem. Today was no different and thus I spent a good majority of my solitary driving time lost in thought. I seemed to be no closer to understanding my sadness (though a great deal sadder for all the trying) when a very clear thought cut through the noise:

I want to be

• The sort of person who has an endless supply of patience-
• The sort who can simply listen and validate others without needing to press her own worth-
• The sort who sees the inherent and genuine good in all she meets-
• The sort who knows intrinsically that she is a thing of value, and thus doesn't have to constantly seek validation or value from her surroundings. . .

In short, I want to be super-human.

I am continually frustrated by my shortcomings. I know the argument that one's shortcomings provide the lessons for one's journey. I even believe that argument, but that doesn't mean it's fun to live through the times of utter humanity. Well, at least not always.

I get so tired of growing. I find myself longing for things, for status, for roles, and for people that I somehow believe will fulfill me. I self-righteously proclaim that I know things cannot fill me or make me feel whole. I know. I've heard about the AA god-shaped hole. I'm not 'simple-minded' enough to believe that getting the job, car, house, etc. will make me happy or finally put me at the level where I can sit back and relax til check-out time.

No, not me. I know that that stuff is all empty if you don't have awareness or actualization or whatever other big word I choose for the day.

I clearly know everything, so how is it that I find myself longing for the day when my career will be launched- with the direct expectation that such a day will surely bring with it a sense of total completion in that arena of my life? I find myself thinking of an imaginary future significant other who will not complete me (that would be silly!) but will give me a sense of arrival and I won't feel lost ever again?? Because that's totally different from being completed by a partner, right?

I find myself thinking that the things and people I long for will push me into the next stratosphere, where I will no longer feel down at times and where I will not have to work so hard at hiding my humanness. And in the same thought I look down my nose at others who believe that someday a partner will make them feel whole.

I smell hypocrisy. . .

The funny thing is, I go through a lot of extra hoops trying to avoid thinking that I'm better than others. I spend a lot of time looking for how I am related to others- our commonalities, our shared trials. I abhor the idea of thinking oneself better than others. . . and yet I do it all the time.

I see someone sneer at a homeless person as ze passes by, and I stiffen my neck a bit. I watch lovers quarrel over something petty and my eyebrows shift slightly while the corners of my mouth raise the tiniest bit. A hundred times every day I make split second comparisons between myself and the people around me, and when I decide that I come out ahead, I feel pleased.

Once upon a time I based these comparisons on things like how one dressed or who one's friends were or what books one read (ok, I still do this sometimes), but basically I compared your external status frills with mine. This is not how I think so much today- which is probably why I'm so darned self-righteous. See? See Me? I don't judge whether I'm better based on socioeconomic level! Or style! Or culture!! HaHAH! I have graduated beyond such pettiness and have moved on. . . to the same pettiness re-packaged based on where you are on your personal journey.

Instead of judging your clothing or what you scored on the last test, I've moved on. How grateful are you? Really?? How much do you take your anger out on others? Are you more honest than me? Damn!

And this is better somehow? *sighs*

Why am I so obsessed with the idea of better? The concept of 'better' by definition requires a comparison, which just leads to trouble if you're trying to be at peace on your journey. I acknowledge that sometimes comparison can be a truly helpful thing -it can be a powerful motivator- but the flip-side of that coin is the possibility of obsessively looking to others to gauge whether or not one can be happy, and that is a foolish method of trying to attain any sort of meaningful or lasting joy.

I guess this is really just me trying to hold myself accountable. I'm putting it out there that I know, deep down, that I'm not actually holier than anybody. I also realize that I am my own harshest critic, despite all my countless pep talks and lectures about being gentle with the self.

I just have to continue to remind myself: It's ok that I'm not a super human. Though I wouldn't mind being able to fly. . .

Currently Reading: Bird By Bird

Loving Oneself When Things are Good and One's Brain is Bad

It's shocking how difficult it is to stay positive when things are going well.

Shocking and annoying.

Life has been full of unexpected joy and brilliance lately. My first semester back at school (4th attempt at college) went incredibly well, especially considering the health setbacks. Coming back to New York after my visit to Michigan for Christmas, I was surprised by a multitude of warm feelings for this city- it felt good to be home after being gone for a week. This Thursday I start my first professional gig as a singer in this, the city at the center of the performing arts world. While working last Thursday, my boss casually asked me if I would mind taking a week off school at the end of the month to accompany her on her vacation to the Bahamas.

There's more. Friday I was living in the tiniest excuse for an apartment with a dog and her man who smokes and has loud sex, and the next day I was moving into a palace. I'm almost not exaggerating, either. My new room is more than two times the size of my old room, with a (small) walk-in closet and personal vanity nook with sink and mirror. It came with a bed (a real one, no air mattress any more!), a dresser, a desk. . . I could use another bookshelf, but only because I have too many books. The apartment also comes with a guest room, a living room, a dining room, a kitchen, and a professional cleaner every two weeks. I'm only paying $60 more per month. Did I mention it's the same distance to school? It's a quicker commute, though, as the bus stop is barely outside my door. Health Nuts, my favorite health food store, is right across the street, too.

It's Sunday and I have been full of such excitement for the past three days. I've carted almost all my things via minivan the requisite few blocks, and I've unpacked and alphabetized my books. I am excited about today and tomorrow and the next day. I'm full of gratitude,

So Why Do I Feel So Damned Mopey???

I keep looking around, wondering when I'm going to screw it up. Today I've caught myself at least 3 times inwardly berating myself for being behind on homework. Of course, as it is Break, I have no homework. I conveniently remember this only after a sufficient moment of shame has taken precedence. It seems every quiet moment today finds me listlessly searching the ceiling for proof that I have done something for which I ought to be ashamed. This is infuriating.

I will say that I am pleased that it has taken this long for me to begin to search for the other shoe and its impending drop. Usually at the first sign of the possibility of goodness I am transformed into the Magical Harbinger of Pessimistic Boding. I haven't been skeptical of any of the good things in my life of late until today.

Ah, but can I focus on this little bit of goodness? Of Course Not. I must, it seems, zero in on the gaping fact that I have yet again failed at being a perfectly positive person. I eventually succumbed to the dark side of misgivings and shame-seeking. I am a failure.

Or so says that annoying recurrent voice in my head. Ugh. It's so obnoxious. At least it's not the only voice vying for attention in my skull. There's still a pretty loud voice yelling 'Bullshit' every time that sick masochistic voice cries failure.

Perhaps to spite the truth-telling voice that sick bastard piece of me doesn't stop with the failure line. I push onward with the self-deprecatory monologue (is it a dialogue? Can you have a dialogue with yourself if the conversation is hypothetical and only semi-conscious??) and I find every instance of petty conversation I've taken part of in the last week. I'm sad to say it's a lot more often than I'd like.

I think back on every time I interacted with someone new, someone I wanted to like me, and I see a caricature-esque version of the conversation in front of me. I hear the whiny, neediness of my words. I see the desperation in my anecdotal and self-absorbed discussion pieces. And I want to crawl further into my new comfy bed and hide.

It's not a debilitating sort of situation, and I'm mostly aware of the fact that my current replay of all those conversations is a bit distorted, but -frankly- it's annoying as hell to be spending this kind of energy rooting around in the recesses of my present experience trying to find things to be upset about.

WHY CAN'T I JUST ACCEPT GOOD FORTUNE WITH GRATITUDE??

End of story.

Finis.

Right? Apparently not. At least not for tonight.

My boss often says that the good thing about music as a career is, especially for me, that I will never be bored with it. I will never tire of trying to be better at it as one can never truly perfect the art of music. It's a double-edged sword.

The same is true of life, it seems, though I haven't seemed to truly accept this yet as I still endeavor to do things perfectly to some point. "Progress Not Perfection" should be drilled into the backs of my hands on days like this, because for the life of me, I can't seem to forgive myself.

You see, logically I accept that it's perfectly normal to have a day where one feels a bit down, or a bit skeptical about one's situation. One won't feel bursting with gratitude every single day. So you have a day that's a bit mopey! So What?!? It only becomes a real problem when one loses the ability to see that very large picture and instead gets held up on the individual day. Ahem.

I can't forgive myself for being mopey instead of grateful. Not today. The best I can do today is to get comfortable, make some tea, and watch a bit of whichever program I find most appealing, because sitting on my bed, contemplating my belly button and the state of my immense failures is incredibly unproductive.

And not helpful at all.

Currently Reading: I've been behind- finished 9/10 volumes of The Sandman, Water for Elephants, and something else which is slipping my mind. Currently working on Naked and volume I of the Diary of Anaïs Nin.