resentment

every morning, to wake to the same nightmare.

***

last night, my wife and i talked about resentment.  she had just learned that a classmate (to be specific, someone a couple of years her senior) had passed away.  now, my wife is a very kind person, but upon hearing this news, she was completely unsympathetic; she had no inclination to attend the funeral, despite urges from her friend, who argued that she (my wife) knew the family.  she told a story about how, on the very first day of high school band, this person (who was a senior at the time) offered my wife a seat he had prepared just for her.  after sitting on it for a few moments, the seat fell apart and collapsed, to the accompaniment of sniggers and laughter from this person and his friends...

after the call, my wife spoke about how she felt guilty for not caring about this person's death.  i thought she was being ridiculous.  the man had painted himself as an ass with that thoughtless act committed so long ago in the past, and whether he had changed or done good things in the meantime, in my wife's understanding, he would always be defined by that act.  it had nothing to do with forgiveness.

i cited people in my past, who had done cruel and judgmental things to me, and how, to me, they had boxed themselves with the shit of their actions, and that the onus of responsibility for their actions lied with them, NOT ME, to redeem them.  i was, quite frankly, surprised at the ferocity of my passion on this issue.  there were/are A LOT of people whom i could cite.  like my wife, middle school was quite a cruel time for me.  in many respects, i still haven't moved on from that time.  it has influenced my outlook on people in general.

to wit: i am no longer surprised (or as surprised) when people are assholes.  in fact, in many cases, it is the baseline expectation.  i have learned to recognize a kind of soul, perhaps someone who is weird or outcast by nature, and see in it a kindred spirit.  i have concurrently learned to (by nature) distrust anyone who is "cool" or "together" or "judgmental" (in any of those combinations), without a touch of understanding...

once there was a boy with a hole in his head. it was not in an obvious place, where everyone would see it. and it did not interfere with his major life functions, like his heartbeat or his breathing. no, it was a rather subtle hole. the boy was not even aware of its existence, until someone (or should i say, something) pointed it out to him. he had, nonetheless, been made aware of its effects. from the beginning, he noticed a difference between himself and everyone around him. for instance, when other children his age were effusive and brimming with life, expressing themselves through their words and actions, he was not. he had no obvious thoughts or feelings about anything. when questions were pointedly directed at him (for there is nothing that makes others so uncomfortable as silence), then he struggled to draw something out from within himself. sometimes, he would succeed in placating his audience by saying some words that he had somehow managed to remember from somewhere else, and on the rare occasion, he would succeed in coming up with something entirely original. but when he was true to himself and to the world, he had to admit, sadly, that he did not know. he did not know a single thing. you see, this hole drained away all of the boy's thoughts and feelings. now, he did not run empty all the time. experiences and words seemed to fill the emptiness within him periodically. but inevitably, inexplicably, these thoughts would seem to dry and dessicate within, leaving empty husks that disintegrated with less than a touch. one might argue (as he had, quite often) that this hole took away his soul. but even he had to admit that it did not, because there was within him something that still stirred and railed at his situation. there was something that made him curse himself, and apologize profusely to others; he was, for all intents and purposes, like a boy beside himself, ...

another day...  last night, after finally replacing a broken garbage disposal unit, i thought of yet another way i fucked up in college...  how, in the fledgeling days of my attempt at starting up a "japan society", i had the bright idea of showing anime, and the movie i chose was "legend of the overfiend", a brutally raunchy film about demons raping women.  i have no idea what was in my head at the time...  i guess my ideas about sexuality, even at that age, were so- naive.  i can think of a few other times when i sort of went off the deep end (or shallow, perhaps, with regards to this topic) about sex.  going to some winter study seminar about, i believe, heroes, and in some obscure discussion, trying to articulate views about how the sex act itself represented the different roles of the sexes (i know, the very description itself sounds misogynistic at the very least)...

i truly don't understand myself...

sometimes i wish i could've given in to advances.  there were a few times that women were (i realize now) practically throwing themselves at me, but for some reason, i couldn't.  i had pretty set ideas about who i would "fall in love with" (jeez, even now, i can't say "fuck"), and the proper order of things.  so, even when a girl asked me, with a lilting tease in her voice, if i wanted her cherry (-while eating ice cream...), or if another girl came to my room to study, but instead only wanted to lie on my bed (-said she was tired after walking across campus), i just sort of played along with the surface interpretation.  didn't go deeper.  honestly (?) didn't see an opportunity.  sometimes i wish i could go back to myself and give myself a flying kick to the head.

it's not that i regret it so much.  the way things turn out is the way things turn out.  it's just that i can't understand it, how i could've been so- such a blockhead...

***

i truly understand, on a daily basis, what a hollow thing life is.  if you are not initiated into the struggle to recreate yourself daily, even moment by moment, not in an idealistic, existential sort of way, but in a desperate sense, to meet basic responsibilities, particularly for the sake of those around you, whom you purport to love with all of your heart...  well, you probably just think what i write about is just pathetic horse shit.  it's reminiscent of discussions surrounding people who are depressed...  when you're in it, it is hard to even explain what a terrible chore it is to even do the simplest things; the way your perspective on life is colored some awful shade that you can't shake; to others around you, out walking on the surface of the so-called real world, you probably look mad, or at the least, pathetic...

i invent things to do.   i guess that's one of my attempts at a feeling of normalcy.  but i move slow.  it is sometimes like i have a bowl of water on my head (cued tie in to kappa!), and i have to keep ripples from disturbing the surface of that water.  i move slow, and ease into tasks...  i hate decisions, especially in rapid succession, i like just following my momentum, and perhaps breaking down obstacles...  things that are clear, the path of least resistance, all of that stuff.  just "being myself" is a myth, or a lie, or something i'm just not sure of, just not sure how to be...  the absolute buddhist perspective would just bracket this self-doubt and say that that is my realized expression of myself.  but, relatively speaking, i'm a bucket of bolts without nuts, rattling loosely, barely held together.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yp1ZGW9MdbI

it is midnight.

i am an awful father.  my daughter, on her first trip alone (with aunt and uncle) to las vegas, was hysterical off the plane, crying how much she missed us.  i at first tried to be consoling, but as that didn't work (and as she kept saying she couldn't hear me), i started to scold her.  now, i realize what a bad idea it was.  my wife has already talked to her, and given her a more reasoned, compassionate response.  but i am left wondering and worrying.  and thinking: what's wrong with me!?

what if it is the last time i talk to her?

***

frankly, there is something very wrong with me.

i woke up, and my first thought (or one of the first) was that of quantum leap, and how great it would be to be the guy from quantum leap, always redeeming lives... but then, what a sucky thing it was to have a memory, and to always know that your storyline, where you SHOULD be, is where you aren't...  i suppose that is the tension inherent in the story.  you cannot, for the life of you, get rid of that nagging doubt that you aren't doing what you are supposed to.

i then had the thought of a man trapped by a sinister creator.  like, he is in a dark room, and he is missing one of his organs- or better yet, a key piece of his brain, the piece that allows him to be fully thinking or fully human...  he walks and talks like a real person, but when he digs himself out, and tries to operate normally, there is a defect in him that is only apparent to others, but not to himself.  maybe he farts frequently but silently, so that others get paralyzed by his noxious odor, but he himself cannot detect it...  maybe he has some sort of tic, or his eyes do a strange dance without his knowing...  anyway, he is basically the punchline of some cosmic joke.

because that is what i often feel like.  the butt of a joke.

and the very thing that makes the joke perfect is someone who is so earnest, and so well-intentioned, being the punchline.  what better sap?  after all, someone who would wail would just be pathetic; someone who would rail against circumstances would just deliver more punitive measures...  but this guy?  he just pretends nothing is wrong, and tries to go about his business!

... i often feel like this.  i mean, they tell you to pray to god, etc. etc. etc., and in my moments of solitude, i ask him questions, i tell him concerns... i even tell him all the good and wonderful things, what i am grateful for, etc. but it never erases this nagging feeling that keeps me up at night, that there is something fundamentally wrong.  it is a worry.  a doubt...  something that is detectable by all but the person involved.  some brutally funny cosmic joke.

***

i hate judgment, although i probably commit it unawares.  i want to be the one who is patient, who cares... but the world seems to have put me in roles where i cannot necessarily be that...

***

well, to all those i offend, i apologize.  i am working on it.  and i am working on my daily quantum leap, to try to figure out what the fuck i'm supposed to do to emerge from this daily trap feeling an inch closer to the feeling of smug self-satisfaction that i believe is my god-given right, the feeling that allows me to sleep through the night, the sleep of the just... instead of always waking up at this time with wasted, vaporous dreams that recycle the endless, purposeless machinations of a mind that is broken?  where are the dreams of possibilities?  of vistas?
***
to my daughter, until i speak to you again, i am so sorry.  i was trying to be expedient, and to help those watching you, by pacifying you in the means that i thought would work.  but i miss you, terribly if i must admit it...  i love you, and i hope you are alright, and happy.  that is what i would wish.  always.  what i would wish for all people, in my world, if it weren't for me getting in the way...