So I’ve spent 3 days and 2 nights at home and things are still tolerable, despite the fact that my mom is currently yowling Bryan Adams on our karaoke machine. I, myself, have entertained her with a brooding version of Superstar by the Carpenters before escaping to where I’m most comfortable…in front of a computer.
I went to see The Grudge tonight with Julius, a brilliant illustrator trying to get into animation, and my brother. My brother really wanted to go with us even though he handles horror movies even more poorly than I do. The movie was terrible—it seemed like the director was more focused on what to do that would scare an audience held captive in a theater, rather than what would make sense of the plot. Lots of creepy things jumping out at you. Luckily, there were plenty of vocal African American women in the audience (you know the type) and so their quips gave us plenty to laugh at. In fact, the whole theater was Mystery Science Theatering the movie so it was fun.
When the end credits began rolling, I asked Michael if he was okay. He said yeah, but then bolted out of his seat and out of the theater, like someone about to puke. I think he was really freaked out. I felt bad. Michael wants to follow me everywhere, and sometimes he’ll end up going to places that he hates.
I’ve been going to the gym and playing basketball. Played a five-on-five game the day before Thanksgiving and it was hell because I’ve got this sprained ankle and the back issue and I haven’t run in over 6 months. But I tried and my moves were slow (my crossover was pathetic. and painful!). My line? 1-3, 1 rebound, 1 assist, 1 steal, 1 turnover. Pretty weak. But my guy went scoreless so that was good. I was always a great defensive player. Loved playing defense. No baskets ever scored on me by my defense assignments during the one season I was healthy enough to play in high school. But I also fouled a lot. And was regarded as a mean player and hated around the league. But I didn’t care. I did my job.
Which speaking of, I kind of understand where Ron Artest comes from (read this article). On the court, you’re intense when it’s all you’ve got. When this game is the only outlet you have for all your anger, all that is wrong in your life. And all you care about, is to feel like you’re good at something, for something. And here you are, the only place where you can dominate, when outside, the world makes you its bitch. So you make up in heart and desire on the court, what gets beaten out of you off of it. Yeah, a lot of coaches could tell I had a lot of anger. But I got things done. Gave 110% at all times and demanded that the people around me did as well. It was heart that won games, no matter the level of talent. And I scared the fuck out of the other teams because I was strong and aggressive and played every minute of every game like it was life or death.
Speaking of anger, Mike, the ugliest guy I’ve ever dated (both inside and out), said once that he was afraid to have kids…he was afraid he’d beat them. And I said something noncommittal like, “Oh…no…you…probably wouldn’t” when I was actually thinking, “Dude, I hope you never have kids.” He was a textbook abusive, borderline personality. A terrible human being, even though I was always encouraging him, telling him he was a good person in hopes that he would be able to see himself that way and work towards it. I was hoping he would break the cycle so he didn’t fuck up other people on his path towards self-destruction. It was worth a try, as fruitless and frustrating as it was. Are there are lot of abusive people out there in the world? Or do I just have a propensity for coming into contact with them? Just want to break that cycle…too many innocent kids are getting fucked up in this world.
Things have been heavy lately and I’m just trying to ride this period out. November is always the worst month of the year for me. It’s like being dunked underwater. Completely dark and suffocating. And you just have to hold your breath long enough until it’s okay to resurface.
Sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind. And yeah, it’s such a cliché, but clichés exist because they’re true. Sometimes it’s about risk management. If you can see clearly enough, you look ahead and predict different outcomes of situations, and then you work towards the one that is better, with less consequences and more benefits. Sometimes there are no benefits and you have to go towards the one with the mildest consequences. Whitney is always saying that happiness is the most amount of pleasure with the least amount of pain. And if you think about it, if something gives you a great amount of pleasure along with a great amount of pain, by the Whitney Meter, it comes out to zero. Whereas, if something gives you a moderate amount of pleasure, with a smidgeon of pain, then it’s like a +1.8* (measurement is an approximation. ;). And by quantifying it, you can see that it is actually better for you. Anyway, math aside, I just want my life to be clean right now. Quiet.
Being home, in our haunted house. It’s funny, neither my brother nor I will sleep in the guest room. I told you guys before, there’s something wrong with the energy of that room. I’ll either sleep with my mom in her bed, or in my brother’s bed and he’ll sleep on the floor, but no matter what, no one is willing to rotate over to the guest room. It’s always noticeably colder and draftier in that room, even though there’s no logical reason for it. I used to lock myself in that closet in the dark to punish myself when I was a kid. Trying to toughen myself up by putting myself in the scariest place/situation imaginable. Whenever I thought I was weak, because I hated myself when I was weak. Made myself learn to detach from fear. Now in hindsight, I don’t know if that was a fucked up, sadomasochistic thing to do, or something that ended up making me stronger in the long run. I really do think that no one can be crueler to you than you can be to yourself. And no one can mistreat you unless you give them permission. Unfortunately, we so often give people permission to mistreat us, without realizing it. Ah…we must all be careful of our own unconscious agendas.
Okay, it’s now 2:51 am. Time for bed.