A day lost in my head

I got up this morning at the crack of… ten. Laid awake recounting all the people that had wanted to murder A. and I. The whole sequence of events had a very Harry Potter feel to it, as in, very dramatic and full of the feeling of impending doom. I had to carry a gun if we left the apartment.

I wish I could remember more. My dream memories tend to be hazy at best. I am pretty sure that I slighted a mob boss at some point, however, and that may have been what started it all. Losing details of my dreams makes me sad sometimes, because they are so wild that it would be great to write about them, or play them back in my mind on more boring days in the office, such as this one. Sure, there is work to do, but it’s nothing urgent and I’m happily distracted by anything not involving sorting through multi-ethnic names and figuring out how many clones there are running around in the ethnocentricly built and populated database.

I was resolute to keep this blog limited to shorter, more entertaining entries, but today has not found me bent towards brevity or particularly worried on the reader, and really, there are only a couple of you. Now then, because I am writing for myself I am going to describe my day since I woke up, because this will be enjoyable to look back on:

I woke up, that has been established. I woke feeling very good, for I had been lovingly nudged out of sleep by A. who had no news to report other than a few kisses, threats to skip work and climb back into bed, and that I was too adorable to leave. That’s a nice pre-wake up mood setter. Especially given the tension that pokes itself into our conversations as we near our moving date. I bring this up now, because in the order of my day, I have now logged onto gchat on the laptop, still in bed. Before I even confirmed that A. was on, I remembered last night.

After talking for a bit online, less than merrily, I went upstairs to make breakfast. Eggs and refried black beans, no frills. Delicious. My mood had lightened as much as a heavy breakfast can afford. I zipped back downstairs and continued what would be another failed attempt at discussion. Once over, as is the trend these days, I retreated to the world of Harry Potter. I’m on the final book now, It’s A.’s fault really, I had no interest in the books before. When I have been feeling weird, and in particular, about relationship issues, I have picked up the book and tried to use the forced mode of imagination to engage my mind on things less counterproductive than putting 2 and 2 together, only to get 3 or 5, or sometimes 37.

Sitting on the porch in perfect summer weather I read, and enjoyed a few cigarettes. My phone rang, I spoke into it and listened as it responded. Mood slightly lighter now I proceeded to work, I knew the day could go up or down from here, quite easily. Turned on MPR as I headed out of the Fridley Park parking lot to drown out the Mansion* and turned towards the sun. It would have been a beautiful morning had the bears been willing to come outside. -Oops, hold on, the phone.

The landlord cleared us to move early, keys on friday. excellent.-

So, the bears, yes. Utter hermits for the most part. Regardless, as I drove I heard the voices from the radio, but their thoughts didn’t penetrate me. I remained oblivious to both my own driving and the words of the voices in my car as I made my way absent-minded towards the office. I considered stopping for a breakfast sandwich, remembered; I had already had breakfast. I thought about how it was really inconvenient that A. felt that this situation was my provocation and her response consistently throughout. I thought about how it made sense to feel that way since the awareness we are discovering together was something that had not been on her mind for years and years. On mine it had, and I knew what to say to myself. I knew what to look for on moving day or at the end of a prior relationship. I had already considered my extra-curricular activities in regards to the two of us and whether or not they fit the ideal parameters we now sought to clearly define.

You see, the goal of boundary building, while it may cause you to talk at length over a long span of time about things that are not always pleasant, things that do not reinforce the idea that you do, in fact, trust that person, the goal is to never have to bring it up again. You work hard to draw out a starting point, and move out from there, now armed with a map. From my thinking, the real trust comes in knowing that you outlined the ground-rules, you talked about your feelings on this or that, and now, going ever forward, you can trust that these ideals will remain virgin. Trust is a word often misused and meant to indicate ignorance. Trust and ignorance look the same to most people. I am ignorant of bridge structures and take it for granted that they tend not to collapse. Others may have to actively trust in that idea before crossing one. When asked to trust someone without having clear guidelines in place of exactly what I can look to for reassurance, I feel that I am being asked to remain ignorant. For example, It would be my ignorance, not my trust, that would allow me to indulge alcohol in the isolated presence of another young woman. Of course I trust myself, but that trust is likewise contingent on boundaries, boundaries such as not participating in the afore mentioned situation due to its renown to cause situations that wind up in heartfelt apologies bleated at the person now leaving the apartment, suitcase packed, headed to Mom’s. Trust is what we feel about our ability to remain within a relationship’s interpersonal behavioural limits. Without clearly verbalized and mutually consented parameters all we can do is ignore each other.

I parked the car so that the breeze would not be blocked by neighboring SUV’s, left the windows cracked, and sighed as I entered the building.

There was a pile of work on my desk already, which was nice as I needed to stay busy today. Idle hands… As I got my things in order, processed the morning’s emails and prepared to plug away I felt a calm wash over me. Peter, James, and Edmund had come to a consensus. This is always a very powerful ordeal, as when they agree, what has been agreed upon becomes integrated into my person as a trait. Current circumstances considered, I was properly encouraged.

I got a healthy amount of work done, ate lunch in my car, and did not sigh as I reentered the building.

I could be ignorant of the need for trust. That could be healthy/helpful. I could trust that my ignorance was possibly another parameter of our interpersonal dynamic. Dangerous, but potentially inspired.

Class was in session, all registrants were checked in. Time for my last break. I walked down to the car thinking over what I had written so far, decided not to reread or edit it before posting, save for typos or obfuscating language. It’s ok to dismantle your values once in a while. When you put them back together at least you can assert them knowing they are not outmoded. -A. surprises me by getting into the car, it’s very sweet-

To know that you are current with your life outlook and experiences; that you have accounted for, and reshaped your thinking on the behalf of, all that you have learned through the years… that… I believe, is called actualization. I’ve rearranged the Mansion, and the bears and I have come to an understanding.

Mutual understanding can be a violent process, but the peace it brings is unshakable.

It was a very different sigh that left the building with me. One of gratitude and a widened peripheral vision.

*the Mansion is residence to three brown bears named Edmund, Peter, and James. They all graduated Oxford college with various high level degrees in Theolgy, Psychology, Philosophy, and Literature. They are highly distinct manifestation’s of my Id, Ego, and Super Ego who are frighteningly real in my day to day on goings. Expect more on them in the future. They are an entertaining trio. Edmund, the cynic, believes and trusts noone but, rather, sits in the study most of the day reading, thinking, and criticizing me and those I interact with. Peter is the mature one. He is responsible and wants everyone to get along. He reminds me of the thoughtful things I can do for others and keeps me motivated to improve. James is a wild one. He shirks most responsibility as often as he can get away with, pranks the other two, and loves to generally mess with those around him. He is responsible for my weirdness and social awkwardness. All three of them can be found in the study each evening, sipping brandy by the fire and arguing jovially about this, that, or whatever.


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