Tuesday, March 22, 2011

blah,blah, blah

It is one of those days, when I can't seem to find it in my heart to cut myself any slack.
No self love, no self care...
I look within only to find my inner cupboard bare, a few zen tumble weeds blowing through, if you yelled in my soul today, you would hear an echo from the empty hollowness.

I have no good reason to feel this way.

Got some goodish news, I will be working on a project I enjoy, but the project feels bittersweet, because there was no
"Heidi I want you to do this because you are so good at it, and I value that goodness, I am happy to put this in your hands because you will do a quality job."

It was more,
"here this needs doing and you are a reasonably reliable person with a practical mind."

Why do I need to be valued by others?
Why can't I be all self contained and confident and not need propping up?  Why can't I deal with the fact that no one is going to embrace me and tell me how fantastic I am, or care whether or not I am happy, or whether or not my life has meaning

Why do I even think I should have the luxury of a meaningful life? 

There are starving children in Katmandu, so who the hell am I to need meaning?

One more reason to consider therapy I suppose, or perhaps hard drugs.


  1. Maybe I have no business writing this. You probably never forgave me for leaving Chinook behind in Oregon. That was a hard winter for me, but I understand if you think that's not much of an excuse. You should know why I called her Chinook. I guess that makes it particularly egregious. I'm sorry.

    I've read your entire blog. I was overjoyed to find that you're a mother and that you're surrounded by love. I can't tell you how many times I wished I could make you happy. I can think of a few things I did that I suspect genuinely hurt you. I hope you realize how grievously it wounds me to have hurt you even a little bit. Your happiness really means something to me.

    That's why I'm posting tonight: your happiness. I'm sure you don't need another eccentric lout popping back into your life, even for a quick hug. Of course I embrace you, fully and without reservation. Of course you are fantastic. Allow me to attempt to briefly drive that point home, and then I will say goodbye for now.

    You are no doubt aware of your many self-evident virtues. You are a proud woman for good reason. The world is rough in part because other people lack the strength and decency you live by. I understand that your discomfort with the world arises from a noble impulse. It says to me that you have held on to a beautiful dream of how people ought to conduct themselves. You have a vision of your own life that's marvelous.

    I would tell you that your rebelliousness is divine, but I fear damning you with faint praise. I know you are a religious skeptic and you could not be faulted for insisting upon a language particular to your time on this earth to describe your accomplishments and sing your praises. You, who have not succumbed to wave upon wave of phoniness and the stupefying, vacuous horrors that have swept up our generation and a few more besides, what words will be adequate to tell your story? Fantastic?

    Yes, there is meaning in the word "fantastic," appropriate to your situation and your singular contribution to the universe. I won't try to reconcile it with your theories about political economy. Others have done as much, and you're more than capable of doing so yourself, if it suits you. I think you're fantastic because of what you've done to keep your dreams alive, and because of the life you've made for yourself amidst some turmoil and stupidity.

    Well, I don't want to be tedious, and I don't much care for bullshit. I hope you can spot the sincerity in what I've written and disregard the rest. Take the good stuff to heart. Chin up.

    In the past few months I have been writing little stories that are both rabidly indecent and pretentious.
    You may wish to disassociate yourself from me on either account. For that reason I will try to remain discreet, and I won't be offended if you choose to delete this comment altogether.

    Love always,

    A boy you once knew.

  2. HOLY SHIT, I wish you had left your contact info... I search for you every once in a while without success. There are few people that I would like to hear from more, including the YOUR theories on political economy, oh S, write me.


  3. hey! now that some time has passed, I feel like it is a dirty trick to post anonymously, I expect an e-mail chicken!

  4. Okay, I'll email. :-)