Sunday, October 11, 2009

Questions with obvious answers

I fall asleep and dream that my wife and I fight over some insignificant issue. The fight turns ugly and I ask her if she wants us to be over, I expect her to say "No, we'll work on it." But my expectations are wrong. "Yes, I'll call the lawyer and have the papers ready tomorrow." The scene ends with us in a dark, lawyers office where nothing is happening but everybody feels the heavy tension that has engulfed the room. I remember this dream although I have not woken up.

What was that?

I wake up in my not so cozy seat to feel the train rocking back and forth, violently, like it does habitually. I have that same thought that I do whenever I wake up on the train--"This is it! The train is going to fly off the tracks. I hope it won't be too painful. Maybe I'll survive if I'm quick enough." My heart pounds against my chest as though it is knocking on my bedroom door like my mom used to do to wake me up to get ready for school.

Where am I?

I look in the mirror and notice a touch of grey and a thicker face. I look at a recent picture of me and the person smiling back has crow's feet wrapped arond his eyes. My knees need WD40 every morning. The sand in my hands seems to be trickling faster than usual and I can't find anymore to pick up.

Who am I?

My heart strains to make things perfect for my family. I don't want to fuck it up. I question every act, every decision, every step, but yet I know there are gaps that have eluded my conscious thought. I want to be the perfect worker, but god damn it, who the hell knows how to do that? Fuck it.

How do I do this?

I have ego; its unavoidable. The words that I words are as imperfect as I am>mssing an "i", wrong punctu'ation. That's ok. The words are for my own benefit anyways and will probably remain unread, just like the product manual for my broken toaster oven--random, I know, but fuck it.

Can you pass the box of tissues so I can dry my crocodile tears?

Now that I've drooled all over the keys and have slit my wrists so my melodrama has poured all over the soulless bits of manufactured plastic and metal I feel much better. I've let myself release this anxiety and I'm able to "see the forest" from where I'm standing; and its a beautiful forest. Its amazing what a little perspective can bring-sight. Fuck it, I need my glasses.

2 comments:

Kelly (conversemomma) said...

You don't have to be perfect. You just have to be you. It is such a cliche, but it is true. Fuck it up, baby. Fuck it up good. I'll still be here loving you.

Anonymous said...

attachedtothemembrane.blogspot.com; You saved my day again.