Monday, January 30, 2006

A little Perspective, please.

Monday, January 30, 2006
I've had a bit of an interesting weekend. To respect the privacy of those involved, I refuse to go into intimate detail, but I will say that in the past 48 hours, I've feared for my safety, for the safety and sanity of others, experienced total and utter confusion, and begun to realize that although I think I'm in charge and in control, I'm actually being walked all over. Why is it that those people who are willing to sacrifice so much for the ones they love (this isn't me I'm talking about, btw) are the ones that continually get abused, taken advantage of, and generally fucked over? How is that justice? How is that at all karmic? And then, why do some people feel it necessary to mislead others with convoluted tales of engagement, and abuse, and mental illness, and then proclaim for all to hear, "But it's not my fault!!" (and the killer "I just want to cuddle"...but that's a different story and a different person entirely!)

Anyway. Today was rough- my emotions are a little fucked, and for awhile I thought I was on top of my game, only to realize over a slightly more potent than necessary drink tonight that I'm really losing. Sarah told me, "Tomorrow will be better..." and she's right. But I really needed to hash it out with someone who wouldn't scream "RED FLAG" at me- I can see them myself, and I can also hear the sirens, and the alarms, and I'm perfectly capable of reading the warning labels that some people should wear- such as "Caution: Contents Unstable" or "WIll Explode on Impact" (thanks, Kent)
So who do I call? Not the ghostbusters, but my dad. My dad- I don't think he realizes how important he is in my life, and how fortunate I am, and how much better I feel, after talking to him, about my life, and the government, and the general state of affairs in the world. He was the man that made it all better by driving me to the hospital when I broke my arm(s) (okay, after the game was over...), or by explaining to me what the death of a friend's parent meant when I was 9. Sometimes, even at 21, I need my dad to make it all better- and if he does it by talking about Led Zeppelin, I'm okay with that.

Tomorrow it will be back to the regularily scheduled lame-o commentary on things I find annoying, but for tonight- you're stuck with this.


kent said...

Glad I could be of service.