Random Analysis on the Verge of Mental Paralysis

I have been feeling a bit out of sorts as of late. And perhaps it is a combination of various life things. However. I feel as if I am on the verge of something. But I don't know what.

Sometimes I am four years old again. And I am calling my father at the Eagle's Club where he spent the overwhelming majority of his time sitting on a bar stool drinking screwdrivers or cheap scotch. By the time I was four years old I had memorized the telephone number. And I would call and beg and attempt to bribe him to come home. And he would always say that he was on his way. But he never really was on his way. So I sat. And waited. Waited and waited some more. And I mean really. It is not like I had anything else better to do. I was four. But that is the kind of crap that sometimes stays with you and occasionally wreaks havoc on your psyche in various unpleasant ways later in life.

In other words. I have been weird lately. And in said weirdness I have been feeling all sorts of things that I do not particularly want to be feeling. And I think that perhaps we do not always admit those times in life when we are feeling weird. So I'm admitting it. Because I think that maybe we should. Sometimes I think that we. And by "we" of course I really mean "I" but it is much easier to speak in the collective "we" so I will. Sometimes I think that "we" fail to talk about these sorts of things. Because we feel that everyone else in the collective we might have some sort of feeling about whatever it is we are saying that we do not really want them to have in the first place. And then we will feel even worse.

Or worse yet. We imagine all of this to be true. And it isn't.

So we just don't really say anything. Sometimes perhaps we say something. But it is often not enough. And I am incredibly guilty of this chip-on-the-shoulder-I-can-handle-anything mentality. Because quite frankly I can handle most anything. But maybe my silence isn't always such a great idea. So I'm trying something different.

And let me just say. Because I want to give credit where credit is due. My dear friend Trouble often says things that are at times shocking. Surprising. Awe inspiring. Scary. Weird. And what I have realized about many of the things that she says is that sometimes they are the kinds of things that we are all thinking anyway. Or they are the kinds of things that we have thought at some particular point in time. Maybe they are things that we eventually will think in the near or distant future. Nevertheless. She says these things. Out loud. Things that most people would never ever utter in a crowded room.

Of course sometimes she is just weird. But I love her anyway. Seriously. There are many things that we never say. Or rarely say. And I know this because people tend to say things to me that I think they would not otherwise say in crowded rooms. But I usually never say very much in return. However. Trouble has the courage to say many of these generally unspoken things. And therefore I must give her props for her willingness to put her self out there in the world. Her whole self. Her entire beautifully imperfect as fuck self. Which I love and admire and respect in so many ways. So. Maybe we should all be a bit more like her. Maybe this is what life and the development of true intimate relationships is really about.

Or maybe I am just fucked up right now.

And sometimes the fucked up-ness manifests itself in qualities that I otherwise appreciate about myself. But said qualities occasionally are not so appreciated. Let me provide an example. So. Most of you know. And if you do not. I will tell you. I am incredibly analytical. Sometimes ridiculously so. About every fucking little thing. I would like to think that I am not. Yes. I would like to think that I am this free spirit artistic sort of person who is overflowing with spontaneity. And sometimes I am. But more often I am logical and analytical and...well...boring. I can analyze anything to death and I often do. In fact. I can even analyze my own analysis. I have been trying to slow my roll with respect to analyzing shit as of late. And I must give myself a bit of credit in this regard. Because I have been doing a pretty damn good job. But every once in a while. Some of that shit that I really do not want to be analyzing just creeps back in. Fuck.

Maybe I just need more iron.

Or maybe I just need to admit the fact that sometimes. And often for no apparent reason. I feel doubtful and insecure and abandoned and unsure of myself and everything. Sometimes I feel as though everyone else has all of the answers and I am left wondering how to solve the equation on my own. And perhaps for some reason. This is one of those times. And I just need to confess this to the entire fucking world. That right now. I am feeling weird. Somehow. Some wire in my brain got tripped and set in play this reel to reel memory for me to re-experience. And it is not about now. But then. Even though it isn't always easy to determine what it's all really about anyway.

And sometimes these sorts of things are difficult to figure out. I have been spouting off a great deal as of late about the importance of knowing your own worth. But I must wonder if my focus has been too much theory and not enough praxis on the subject. And this is not about anyone else. This is about me. Mememememememe. And some more me. With a side of me. For I am the only one who can truly know my own worth. And the only one who can accept no less payment than the price tag indicates.

So. I have been. Sort of. Weird lately.

And I have been thinking about all sorts of things. In fact. I have been thinking about thinking about how I am feeling about things. Or how I might be feeling about feeling about things. Not thinking about what I am feeling. But thinking rather. About what I might be thinking about what I might be feeling. So before I am even feeling. I am thinking.

Makes sense doesn't it.

Exactly. Now you know why I have been. Sort of. Weird. Lately.

Even I do not understand what the hell I am talking about. But perhaps that is the way it has to be. Perhaps sometimes we have to be sort of weird. And not know what the hell we are talking about. And while we're all at it we might as well inform the whole fucking world about our weirdness.

As if you didn't already know that I was sort of. Weird.