A Random Image

Jett Superior laid this on you on || May 8, 2003 || 11:28 pm

Sometimes, where this *waves arms impotently* thing is concerned, I feel so inherently dishonest that it cripples my ability to tappity-tap out even the most innocuous of drivel. I feel like I withold far too much, and then I wonder why I am so insane as to think that I have to give myself away in such a fashion. Or that anyone would even give two yippity-fucks if I did.

I think, sometimes, that my virtual transparency rings out as shallow because it has a tendency to be so pat and direct. The title ‘Mouthy Jagoff’ could certainly describe me, but there are so many others that I believe people are fundamentally unaware of and this is my own damned fault.

I made the comment to Maxim tonight that I felt like I was being pulled along behind everyone else in my world rather than doing the very sacrosanct thing that supposedly defines me as a person, no matter the hat I’m wearing: Retaining a sense of self and a sense of purpose. Keeping a part of myself for me rather than giving it all away and feeling like it’s never quite enough, like there are always more and more demands being made on my time and my emotions and just me in general. I’m eroding, being vacuumed up bit by bit into everyone along the way. In moments of clarity, like now, like the past several weeks, this phenomenon is alarming to me. I’m not self-renewing? Holy Mother of GAAAAHD.

I am not who I set out to be, or even who I could be by even one-tenth. It is, quite frankly, breaking my heart.

Maxim was all agog at this revelation, all “My God, you’re shitting me, right? Right?” It was his assertion that I am the center of so many things and people, so how could I feel this way? I believe the exact words used were, “Everything revolves around you…” He didn’t mean that as a slight, but still I felt it necessary to realign his views on that remark. There is a difference between things revolving around you and being the lynchpin that keeps everything cyclical and humming as it should. A body that is revolved around has gravity in its corner and everything it does is basically effortless and according to the laws of nature. There is no true dynamic involved. The lynchpin holds things together at the center through a matter of force –mostly opposing– and was not hung there indiscriminately, but placed there. Unlike the body gifted with gravitational force, the lynchpin will eventually strain and wear out, needing to be replaced. Repair is generally not an option without new parts to work with.

Things have got to change, and I spent a long while tonight laying this bare to my spouse, my best friend, someone whom I like beyond the grasp of gushy words and mere sentimentality, someone I’d never hurt for the world but still may have to. This is a discussion we’ve had before, though not in such a thorough manner, and in the end it came out word for word like he summed it up:

“See, we do this every time; you tell me what you think and how you feel, we discuss it and then I sit here with you looking at me in expectation of some formal declaration from me, some sort of profound response and I’ve got nothing.”

To which, I answered:


without a hint of sarcasm. Only hurt. Hurt that, despite the width and breadth and depth of it, I’ve not settled between us as a barrier.

And he:

“It’s like I’ve said before, one day you are going to get sick of feeling that way and you’re going to take the steps you feel necessary to change it.”

leaving the words “by leaving me.” unspoken but heavily emphasized. I fully expect to go to him one day, saying, “It’s time now,” and for him to say, “Okay. I knew, I just didn’t have a bead on the exact date.”

While the subletities of it all are too great and varied for me to go into here, I can say that neither one of us has truly done anything wrong; two wrongs don’t make a right but two lacks of wrong don’t especially make a right, either. I feel as if I were sold a bill of goods and it’s not entirely anyone else’s fault, because I helped sell that bill by my willingness to take something said at face value: To trust. Again. To take someone at their word because they are good and earnest and think they a) mean it and b) are sure of what they are getting themselves into.
I am beyond the point of being embarrassed that I’ve now been married three times and am probably creeping up on ending marriage number three. Is that sad? Funny? Desperate? Or is it reasonable and sane?

I have grown, and am continuing to grow. Maybe you are growing, too, but it seems that we are evolving at different rates of speed, in different directions. Nobody plans that shit, and you can’t in all honesty plan for it; it just is, man.

I just don’t want it to end badly. Before Maxim, I could never understand the theory of retaining your ex as a friend. My thoughts on the matter were absolute: If you don’t want to be married to someone, then why the fuck would you want to be their friend? Once again, one of my platitudes rears up to bite me in the ass. I am forced to learn things far too many times because of my unfortunate practice of speaking judgementally and inconcretia. God bless, there is a lot of gray fucking up the black and white, you know?

Where the great scope of things is concerned, I don’t know a whole lot. I’m woman enough to admit that. I know what I know because I’ve walked each little tightrope necessary for information gathering. Some of those tightropes were strung up as part of the grand scheme of things, part of them I foolishly or haphazardly or daringly (depends on who you’d ask, I would imagine) put in place for myself.

But I byGod know passion, having stewed and simmered in it most of my born days. Blessing, curse, double-edged sword: Call it what you will, but it has a home in me, ticking away like a shadow behind my heart, beneath my innards, swirling in the very marrow. When the ticking becomes so muted and so loses its rhythm that I have to strain to hear it or try and force it to make time, then I become wildly alarmed. It feels like being the walking dead, and if that is the case, then what the fuck is the point? I can’t live my life devoid of passion, no matter how inane and schoolgirl that may sound, any more than I can live it without water and air.

That little cry that Joey Lauren Adams lets out in ‘Chasing Amy‘…you know that scene, the one in the rain after Alyssa (Adams) has stormed off into the weather and Holden (The Affleck) stands there, flabbergasted, looking after her all ‘whatthefuckdidIdoooo?’; then she comes flying back, surging into him, crying out right before their mouths meet? That sound; that’s passion.

Me biting my bottom lip in concentration, excitement, expectation. That’s passion.

The song ‘Mississippi’ by Paula Cole. That’s passion.

I know it, damnit all to fuck, and I’m not willing to let it slip away into mundanity. For Chrissakes, I’m not talking about climbing Everest or boxing a kangaroo or cradling millions or anything far-flung or -fetched here, I’m talking about living with meaning, with purposeful intent, with zest and a sense of hopeful (pragmatic or not) adventure. With kicking ass and taking names, even if that just means remembering to get every item at the grocery store that I was supposed to pick up, list or no. Plodding along in the day to day holds no magic. Plodding along in the day to day with zeal does.

So, I’m sitting here, watching the demise of a marriage to one of my most favorite (if not the most favorite) people, praying to all that is holy that it doesn’t turn into a trainwreck, mangled appendages flung everywhere. It’s a big request, I know, but fairly simple, considering there are things like war and pestilence and General Gross Ugliness blanketing this here planet:

“Dear God,
“Please don’t let me fuck this up too very badly. I love this person and wish him no harm. Send in the fat lady. I’m ready to listen respectfully.
“Humbly yours,

Sometimes it’s just about grace. In spite of it all, in the face of it all, whatever.

And sometimes it’s just about grace. Period.

::: :: ::: :: :::

i know i’m big and proud all over / not just on the stage / my secret self has many sides / that laugh and crush and sting / i’m red and thick like fire / i like it from behind / round to back / red to white / i’m pure inside and silent

i’m alive / gotta piece of my heart / on the sole of your shoe / i’ve got a little bit of thunder / trapped inside of a cloud

the dog in you / spit me out into the mississippi / i know who can love my many selves / the wife the bitch the rapunzel / the one who cries / and calls for you / the one who is always alone

oh mississippi / come and wash my pain away / oh mississippi / come and take my pain away / i feel i’m drowning / i feel i’m drowning / i feel i’m / i feel i’m / dying

// Paula Cole, ‘Mississippi’

7 worked it out »

  1. laura 5.9.2003

    i spent about 7 years in a relationship being the only person capable of making things happen. i’m not sure how i lasted that long, but it is much like a slow dying. no answers here, only understanding.

  2. waistdog 5.9.2003

    The sad truth about couples, is that each is an individual.

    That seemed so deep the moment I wrote it.

    But then I realized that it’s being said by an old single geezer, that’s never been married, and doesn’t seem to attract women in the real world.

    I think if you both know it’s coming.

    And you both know there’s no way to change it.

    You can both move on, and stay the friends that you are.

  3. Leslie 5.9.2003

    Now its time for me to put my two cents in because WOW! You are an amazing person Jett. Your husband is an incredible person as well. Both with the best personalities that fit so nicely. You definently compliment each other and are beautiful together. The though of anything bad happening between the two of you is frightful for me. I am sure it is more so for you. Just hear me out…I have been through bad relationships as you well know…and I know a good thing when I see it…You two are a good thing. We are women and we have these fucking CRAZY emotions. When we are married sometimes these emotions are strangling. You DO realize that you can do whatever you need to do for yourself whether you are married to him or not right? You just have to make things happen. It doesn’t mean that things wont be hard for the two of you and the kids, but you can be who you want to be without a split. If you really want to that is. You have to decide what it is that you REALLY want and go for it. Your family will support you, I know. Its scary to dive right in and carry the familia in with you, but in the long run it will be SO worth it. We hope. Of course nothing is carved in stone, but you and I both know that he loves you, and sometimes that support can get you through. Okay…I’ve rambled long enough…CALL ME!

  4. V. 5.9.2003

    The gem in Leslie’s comment is that one can become who she needs and wants to become while being married. The trick seems to be in answering the question “Am I that one?” But you knew that. It is between the lines of what you wrote.

    You don’t know me from Adam but I have some degree of understanding of what you and Maxim must be going through. I have little doubt that you both will get through this, yet you both still have my every best wish for the present and the future.

  5. tel 5.9.2003

    I have NO IDEA what you are talking about.

    (And I’m a smartass.)

    Solidarity, sister! People like us *must* follow the passion. Otherwise, it isn’t a life worth living. Not to our standards, anyway. Those other people — their standards — don’t apply. They want bloated bank accounts or the nicest sofa to come home to at the end of the day, and they have to follow that.

    I’m thinking the key to life is 1) learning that only very few things really matter when we are old and dying and ordering the orderlies around, and 2) doing those things RIGHT NOW.

    As always, my sofa isn’t that comfy (and I’m not retaining it in the split anyway), but you are always welcome to crash on it when you are passing through.

  6. melly 5.9.2003

    No matter the hat, baby!

  7. April Love 5.10.2003

    I have no words of wisdom on this subject, but I do know how it feels to wake up in the morning and step into the quicksand day after day. I’m drowning in this town too. All I can offer you is a shoulder or an open ear when the time comes no matter what happens. I love you and I know that everything will be good in the end. The question is how long does it take to get to the end? Patience is a virtue and I didn’t get a fuckin’ drop of it….I hope that you did. Keep your head up.


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