The chief problem in living with the schizophrenia of me is that I never know which avatar is going to be in the driver's seat at any given point.
There's obssessive compulsive mimi, paranoid delusional mimi, chocolate fueled degenerate mimi, endorphin laced earth mother mimi, ass-whuppin' tank grrrl mimi, whingeing wimp mimi, nasty crunchy PMS mimi, weeping willow PMS mimi, super efficient professional powerhouse mimi, temperamental prima donna artist mimi, mother of confusion mimi, super slick rockstar mimi, nobody loves me mimi, couldn't give a fuck mimi, hypersensitive wuss mimi, insensitive bitch mimi, oddball goof mimi, stoic buddha mimi, queen of chaos and melodrama mimi, rational pragmatist mimi, juvenile delinquint mimi, aging singleton mimi, infantile passive aggressive mimi, firebreathing dragon mimi, peace corps pacificst mimi, social butterfly mimi, complete social retard mimi, sanctimonious purist mimi, raving alcoholic mimi...
and on and on and on...and on.
And if you thought listening to these whinging wierdos was a pain in the ass, think about when it's time to buy them shoes!
Thursday, January 25, 2007
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
The Anatomy of Revolution
Heaven and hell are not features of the after life.
The gore and the glory, it's all played out on this earthly plane.
Revolutions abound.
Ideology is to Physiology As Bullet is to Bone.
A million people kill and a million more die.
For the cause, against the cause.
At the heart of the struggle there's only that. Always that. The Cause - informing the process, validating the madness.
And then eventually one day, when rhetoric has buried rhetoric and more blood than is merely tragic or obscene has been shed, one side wins - generally the oppressed.
Utopia is born. The footsoldiers of the revolution dare to dream of life, pure and plentiful, bought and paid for in blood.
But they forget - the balance of power may shift. It's nature doesn't.
Like a see-saw there are only two possibilities, and only one equation: up or down, oppressor and oppressed.
And sure as every new day is born, only to crust over and then ignobly die, the shine on the brand new republic quickly fades.
Strife sends up heroes and martyrs. Peace buries them and places a fat guard at their tomb to collect an admittance fee.
And The Cause...under whose tattered awning the throng once huddled to ward off a common enemy; The Cause is wrapped in parchment and mothballed away along with words like nobility, honour, duty, glory.
Words like development, progress, efficiency and bottom-line take their place.
'We' becomes 'me'.
And the dispossessed remain dispossessed...only under new management.
And then the vague realization hits you - Life really is only about 'Business as usual' and a Revolution is just a Hostile take-over.
Go read 'Animal Farm' now.
The gore and the glory, it's all played out on this earthly plane.
Revolutions abound.
Ideology is to Physiology As Bullet is to Bone.
A million people kill and a million more die.
For the cause, against the cause.
At the heart of the struggle there's only that. Always that. The Cause - informing the process, validating the madness.
And then eventually one day, when rhetoric has buried rhetoric and more blood than is merely tragic or obscene has been shed, one side wins - generally the oppressed.
Utopia is born. The footsoldiers of the revolution dare to dream of life, pure and plentiful, bought and paid for in blood.
But they forget - the balance of power may shift. It's nature doesn't.
Like a see-saw there are only two possibilities, and only one equation: up or down, oppressor and oppressed.
And sure as every new day is born, only to crust over and then ignobly die, the shine on the brand new republic quickly fades.
Strife sends up heroes and martyrs. Peace buries them and places a fat guard at their tomb to collect an admittance fee.
And The Cause...under whose tattered awning the throng once huddled to ward off a common enemy; The Cause is wrapped in parchment and mothballed away along with words like nobility, honour, duty, glory.
Words like development, progress, efficiency and bottom-line take their place.
'We' becomes 'me'.
And the dispossessed remain dispossessed...only under new management.
And then the vague realization hits you - Life really is only about 'Business as usual' and a Revolution is just a Hostile take-over.
Go read 'Animal Farm' now.
Sunday, January 07, 2007
New Year Blues
Another year gone and still no sign.
I waited and waited for the epiphany to come. It didn't. Second year in a row.
Last year, the wine and weed addled euphoria coaxed me into believing that the lack of an epiphany meant I was going to be ok. 2006 was going to be a good year...the year we had all been waiting for. It had to be! Things HAD to be better this year, we could all just feel it.
And see!! No pesky epiphany. No word from the void. No freaky, unsettling prediction about the state of being for the coming year. Surely, that was a good sign.
Turned out, not so much. It wasn't the year we thought it would be. Far from it. Instead of being a year for healing and having and forgiving and forging on to bigger, better things, it was about growth. The painful kind. The kind that involves fear and hurt and relinquishing and being pushed further out into the unknown without a safety net and no respite.
Betrayals, evictions, ejections, rejections and too many goodbyes. Bad choices, stupid mistakes, reality checks and human let downs.
I suppose it is a necessary thing and I should be glad for it, but that may happen later, as a feature of hindsight. Right now, I'm smarting with the petulant indignation of a child that's been slapped in the face and wonders if, perhaps, there wasn't a gentler way to teach the lessons that needed learning.
And now, another year has turned without a sign. I suppose that's just the Universe saying, "Beware! Different year, same shit. Don't break out your dancing shoes just yet."
I waited and waited for the epiphany to come. It didn't. Second year in a row.
Last year, the wine and weed addled euphoria coaxed me into believing that the lack of an epiphany meant I was going to be ok. 2006 was going to be a good year...the year we had all been waiting for. It had to be! Things HAD to be better this year, we could all just feel it.
And see!! No pesky epiphany. No word from the void. No freaky, unsettling prediction about the state of being for the coming year. Surely, that was a good sign.
Turned out, not so much. It wasn't the year we thought it would be. Far from it. Instead of being a year for healing and having and forgiving and forging on to bigger, better things, it was about growth. The painful kind. The kind that involves fear and hurt and relinquishing and being pushed further out into the unknown without a safety net and no respite.
Betrayals, evictions, ejections, rejections and too many goodbyes. Bad choices, stupid mistakes, reality checks and human let downs.
I suppose it is a necessary thing and I should be glad for it, but that may happen later, as a feature of hindsight. Right now, I'm smarting with the petulant indignation of a child that's been slapped in the face and wonders if, perhaps, there wasn't a gentler way to teach the lessons that needed learning.
And now, another year has turned without a sign. I suppose that's just the Universe saying, "Beware! Different year, same shit. Don't break out your dancing shoes just yet."
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