so my mother gave me a gift this last holiday season, and it consisted of a little card she had written, in the handwriting that seems exclusively perfected by the mothering sect of our society, "and for you my son, four lessons with louise in teas and tinctures." now for some reason, i’ve been inspired to hold off calling her until recently but alas i’ve just returned from my first session, and it was in short, very cool.
for some reason that i’ve not sorted out yet, there are times when i have trouble processing "lessons" people want to give me in a timely fashion. for instance, both my parents very often have things they would love to teach me and for some reason, they may actively teach, i may appropriately listen, but still months go by before the impact of that lesson will hit me.
generally i prefer to think of it as a timing issue. at the time when they were giving, i wasn’t ready to hear. now, try and get back to the original thought… my mother somehow got it in her head that without my expressing prior interest, i would be into this. and she is right to think that, and at times it quite nearly becomes frustrating thinking that someone can know me "that well". because it is often people who think they know me "that well" who make the grandest assumptions about me, like the cop, who on a routine stop, was near livid that i did not have any pot, "come on… your birkenstock wearin’, hippy, patchouli, jerry garcia wearin’ ass??" haha i guess the difference is my mother wants to know me. that cop "already does". i think he got every single one in the book… oh wait, he forgot to mention phish.
As i sit here in front of the computer, i feel sad, i don’t know why exactly. Here in portland, or living with my girlfriend whom i love very much, doing an internship with a particularly cool organization, but somthing’s missing. We spend so much time together, sleeping, eating, laughing, watching movies, hanging posters, arguing… we both maintain although she is better at it that we must keep our individuality. it is such a simple concept yet it seems so difficult to do. what do i want to do? it seems as though the answer to that question is only decernable with an encrypted glass bottle bottom. how can i spend so much time not doing what i want to do? that seems contradictory right? it’s impossible for one to do what they don’t want to do, or rather, it is impossible for one to do that which they don’t derrive some utiltiy from. yeah i guess so, but if i only do what i want to do, than why do i feel so depressed? don’t get me wrong, i’m not crying in the doldrums, but i don’t feel empowered, unique, an individual. instead i feel like i am the mass, the faceless individual that you walk/bike/drive/train by everyday. one of those countless people you observe milling around like an ant from your airplane window, the worst part is you may not even see me doing it, but you can know that i’m down there.without a doubt. the more and more i think about it, the more it makes sence. you will never see me in my right mind be an advocate of knowing someone one dimensionally, but if i every have a "life’s work" let it be known that as of yet i see mine as trying to step out and be known as "myself" rather than an environmentalist, or musician, or liberal, or blank… i also realize that sometimes i try so hard that it seems as though i’ve come full circle. i try so hard not to judge other people, it’s hard. sometimes i worry it’s more about me than anything else. i derrive so much anxiety from the idea that as if my life were a different chess game played with everyone in my life, that once we got to a certain point they just had me figured out and obviusly that would be bad because then they would know me and be able to expose me and i would be voulnerable? anyway i know not what the hell i’m ranting about, except that somehow i feel like the pressure valve is tipping off. and now i’m voulnerable to you, exposed. i love the idea of being naked, i support it, i feel very strongly that we should not feel like we need to hide anything. maybe i’m just not giving myself that freedom. i want to be confidant in what i do just like anyone else, why can i not afford myself that freedom? I don’t know. Maybe later.