I’m cancelling my plans for tonight.
All of them, I had plans to go on two dates, with two separate men, who don’t know each other despite living in the same tiny town.
I fucked up. Again. And I am fucked up, as always.
So, here I am, after having slept for 12 hours, texting two boys and telling them both I’m feeling sick while I try to pick up random bits and pieces around my perpetually trashed apartment. What’s in this bag? Oh nothing, just a cookbook, two long riding crops, and a cluster of urethral sounding rods. The crops go in the closet, the sounds go in the sink to be sterilized, and the cookbook goes into the bookshelf.
I remind myself that I’m not being paid to execute any of these trivial social plans, and I shouldn’t do a damn thing that stresses me out in any way. First off, nothing that I’m doing with either of them has the potential to solve any of my actual life problems as I’ve understood them so far (so why do I keep doing this? Something doesn’t make sense to me), and second off, I am actually still on medical leave so I’m allowed to be sick however I define that.
There’s something of major consequence here that I can feel myself not saying. I don’t want this to become another one of “those” blogs. I’m taking two months off of work, not only to heal my physical body, but also to figure out who I am outside of work. It’s been a very long time, two major relationships, at least two moves, a fire, a dog, a couple of suicides, several funerals, and a major vascular surgery since I’ve actually had time to check on who I am and what is left of who I was after all this.
That’s the problem with branding a personality. It takes you over. Actually, there’s several problems with branding a personality, especially when the person you create is someone that you (and everyone else, frankly) like substantially more than the person that you actually are.
I remind myself that my aspirations are also part of who I am, and so this person that I’ve created in myself as a model for who I want to be is also a part of me. It’s a product of the decision making process inherent in who I am that decides what the best parts of me are, and how they would be assembled, and how much good I can possibly put forth and how much bad is still absolutely necessary to fill in the bits and pieces in between everything that is all I wish there was.
Creating a new me has helped me figure out what I wanted in myself. I’ve realized that I have a different sense of what is good than other people. I’m far from immoral, but I am definitely amoral.
As evidenced by what I’ve been using my other personas for…
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More than a hear later… I’ve been gathering data for no reason.
Vaccines are rolling out.
Tonight, I’m going to tell a gentle lie to my boyfriend and tell him that I’m going to meet with one of my vaccinated clients. It’s not actually a lie, although I don’t know if he got his second shot yet.
I wonder how he will react. As much as he knew he had to be, he was never really cool with my work, men never are because they are selfish and stupid. If you don’t like me working, why don’t you pay my bills? No? Then shut the fuck up.
I’m curious about how I’m reacting. I’m trying to shed him… am I? He’s been great. <=== I would delete that, but I'd rather just make the note that this is untrue. He's a man. It's not their fault that they're awful, as they have no reason not to be and don't know how not to be. But they are. My side dude had some excellent things to say about that. The boy erroneously, asshole that he is, called *me* selfish for continuing to work. Oh yeah? So, I'm selfish for wanting to make sure that nothing bad happens to me, for preserving my own assets and securing my own future, because no one is helping me out? I'm selfish because I care about myself? I'm selfish for not just giving myself over to a man who literally has .0005% of concern left to give me, who has no idea how I live or what I need to live, and I'm selfish for going out to provide for myself so that he, and other similarly selfish men, don't have to. If *I'm* selfish for handling my own life, then what the fuck is he?
And, most importantly, why the fuck would I care?