When the Revolution comes
Sunshine in the city makes you chemically high.
Nevertheless, I am STOKED to be in the *office* today... I can't tell you how relieved I am to finally enjoy desk time again. For years it's been like pulling teeth. Recently I feel up to the challenge of digging in. Let's see how long that lasts. I even retouched on BART yesterday - that's a first!
Shit went officially, openly and irrevocably wrong at home yesterday. I called for a house meeting 'to get on the same page' about filling Jesse's soon-to-be-empty room. Unbeknownst to anyone else, Allen put an ad for an open house on Craigslist. That would have been cool if part of the motive for having the house meeting was not to also discuss real roommate shit. Namely, the rent issue, and secondarily, the bathroom issue. I don't think I've ever heard an angry voice raised in that house. Wellll needless to say, that streak ended, with a stranger/prospective roommate in the kitchen even.
Then I rushed off in 3 inch heels to dinner with Greg and Juel.
* * * *
Confrontational people must feel some heightened sense of existence when they are involved in a conflict. How else can they live that way? The knotted stomach, white knuckles, furrowed brow, averted eyes.
When the Revolution comes, I will be the one accepting the conditions as they are, making do and uttering no more than a dissatisfied grunt. History won't be written about my family. We'll just keep hoping things get better so we can enjoy life like we used to - but that day will never come without people stirring shit up. At some point you have to be the one to initiate. If not you, who? If not now, when?
I can get involved on principle sometimes. It's usually the intellectual sense of fairness that gives me courage to speak up - not passion or feeling personally slighted. It worries me a little, because I don't know what I would lay down in front of the tank for. I guess that's the cowardly luxury of living well. It takes a lot of trauma to decide that you would rather sacrifice everything than keep living that way.
Maybe I need 100% conviction to follow through on a conflict. I feel so susceptible to the gray area, and its flexible interpretation of right, and its entourage of extenuating circumstances.
Ay ay ay.
Nevertheless, I am STOKED to be in the *office* today... I can't tell you how relieved I am to finally enjoy desk time again. For years it's been like pulling teeth. Recently I feel up to the challenge of digging in. Let's see how long that lasts. I even retouched on BART yesterday - that's a first!
Shit went officially, openly and irrevocably wrong at home yesterday. I called for a house meeting 'to get on the same page' about filling Jesse's soon-to-be-empty room. Unbeknownst to anyone else, Allen put an ad for an open house on Craigslist. That would have been cool if part of the motive for having the house meeting was not to also discuss real roommate shit. Namely, the rent issue, and secondarily, the bathroom issue. I don't think I've ever heard an angry voice raised in that house. Wellll needless to say, that streak ended, with a stranger/prospective roommate in the kitchen even.
Then I rushed off in 3 inch heels to dinner with Greg and Juel.
* * * *
Confrontational people must feel some heightened sense of existence when they are involved in a conflict. How else can they live that way? The knotted stomach, white knuckles, furrowed brow, averted eyes.
When the Revolution comes, I will be the one accepting the conditions as they are, making do and uttering no more than a dissatisfied grunt. History won't be written about my family. We'll just keep hoping things get better so we can enjoy life like we used to - but that day will never come without people stirring shit up. At some point you have to be the one to initiate. If not you, who? If not now, when?
I can get involved on principle sometimes. It's usually the intellectual sense of fairness that gives me courage to speak up - not passion or feeling personally slighted. It worries me a little, because I don't know what I would lay down in front of the tank for. I guess that's the cowardly luxury of living well. It takes a lot of trauma to decide that you would rather sacrifice everything than keep living that way.
Maybe I need 100% conviction to follow through on a conflict. I feel so susceptible to the gray area, and its flexible interpretation of right, and its entourage of extenuating circumstances.
Ay ay ay.