Home > Life or something like it > Entry 12/28/2005 01:58:42 PM – Mentat 217

Entry 12/28/2005 01:58:42 PM – Mentat 217

12/29/2005

     Now that I got somewhat of a full night’s sleep, getting through a particularly disturbing dream (I’ll get to it in a moment), and waking up with something akin to either a cluster headache, or the preliminary headache associated to caffeine withdrawal: here I sit taking a break from reading more of Franken’s book and realizing I’m no closer to dealing with the insanity that seemed to have gotten dumped on my lap the last couple of days since Christmas, when Jon decided on calling me twice during drunken stupors/rampages and disclosing some of the information that he had disclosed.  But then, this isn’t surprising, given the content of this information.  Sure, I could disseminate it to the readers at-large: but there’s just some things that I don’t do…  Partially because of my experience in doing this with Rick of which would yell at me like a madman at 11:30 in the evening about how "unfair it was for [you]… to say those sort of things about [me] without [me] being able to defend [myself]." Not that I haven’t told him, "you know — you get the chance to write your own Blogs, and I’ll even help him upload the web pages to his personal space if he’s having problems with doing so" more than several times.  But my refraining from posting it willy-nilly is mainly because of this sense of ethics that I like having that keeps me able to sleep at night and not worry about whether I’ve been crossing lines. 

     Needless to say, it’s sitting in a section of my Journal with the lovely little Blue Ribbon for Do Not Publish to protect the innocent, and the truth from wrong syntax and wrong reading. 

 

     As I sit here listening to my meditational .MODs list and think a little about the situation with Jon and I and how we conduct a good majority of our family business and family dysfunction over the phone, I can’t help but think of the parallels of the Camerons from The Foreigner Series by C. J. Cherryh and how simply dysfunctions can cause minefields between the two of them (and the two of us); making things spiral out of control.  And with these parallels, certain questions come to mind:

 

  • Do I approach this by calling Jon when he’s sober, knowing full well the chance that it will cause yet another minefield of issues and dysfunctions to blow up in my face in the process?
  • Do I instead write an e-mail to approach some of the things that he said instead, knowing full well that he doesn’t read e-mails, he simply skims them for what he thinks is important and then calls to create a new minefield of family dysfunction?
  • Do I pull the famed Newlander-Briere-Baldelli Pink Elephant Syndrome and simply ignore everything waiting for him to say something on it instead (and of course, knowing full well it would only be talked about during some Drunken Stupor/Rampage at 2 in the morning again). 

 

     Chances are, I will most probably put some e-mail together to see whether I can sort my thoughts and my feelings out in a manner that I feel would assuage the situation and address it in a manner consistent with compassion.  Then I would most probably second-guess what I had said, and deleted it, opting for the tried-and-true method of Pink Elephant Syndrome until such time as it comes up during a sober moment with Jon.  Which isn’t entirely likely — but it’s just one of those sort of things one hopes for to indicate change has happened between Jon, me, the way we act and react to each other, and just how grown up the two of us have become since the day-and-night fighting he and I used to do during our childhood. 

      Such is the way of life in my family…  And Jon wouldn’t ever understand this as the answer to the question he repeated over and over during the late night calls the last three days, "But Michael, why Pennsylvania?  Did you burn that many bridges in Atlanta?" 

 

     The fact of the matter is, I didn’t burn half as many bridges as he thought I had burned.  I had plenty of opportunity to work the other agencies in the area, and try to get back into working full time someplace worthwhile to work at.  The problem I had was, I didn’t like the amount of pretentiousness that had been going in in Atlanta the last 5 years.  Being in the heart of the red-states (as Mrs. Betty Bowers would call Jesus-Land), I couldn’t put up with the fact that trying to land a job as a Receptionist for example — I would need to have an Associates Degree.  To answer phones!  And then there was the constant issue of trying to land a job in IT where the hottest certificate to have — the A+ Certification — was not a plus but a fucking requirement to be considered for an interview for the position.  Hello??  What are these people thinking? 

     Given the chance between going home, and taking my friend Jeannie’s offer, I chose Jeannie’s offer because the thought of having to wade through neck-deep family dysfunction in an effort to making things functional again; is too daunting, and too stressful for the man that I am to get through the depression and the feelings of hopelessness I had been feeling in the last months of living in Atlanta. 

 

     It was also a better opportunity to actually move someplace that felt like home, without having to actually deal with home.  Besides, I plan on living by the saying, "the only way that I’ll be going home for longer than a visit is in a pine box." 

 

     Yeah — I know — some of this information is old news…  Some of it’s been regurgitated more than a few times.  But some of it’s been the stuff that I’ve had going on in the back of my mind since I’ve moved here two months ago — and I wasn’t entirely sure whether or not I’ve covered any of it since I’ve moved here.  Not to mention that sometimes I think my brother does read my Blogs sometime, and this is a good way of answering the question again — without having to deal with him calling and repeating the question a few hundred more times.

     You’ve got to love the way passive-aggressive can sometimes work to your benefit.  Or hope that it would. 

 


 

     So comes the rather disturbing dream.  I’m not sure whether it was one of those dreams that I had while actually sleeping, or one of those that I have when I wake up in the morning — go online to download whatever patch I still have to download and go back to bed to enjoy the warmth of the covers, and the purring of my cat that has come back to bed to join me and appreciate the heat I generate.  But I remember that I was walking on the beach, during the summer (although it didn’t feel quite like the summer in the dream — no small wonder considering that it was only 40 degrees when I woke up this morning — a heat wave for the Northeast this time of year, believe me).  I had my cell phone, and knowing in the dream that my subscription to Sprint had been expired some time back — decided on dialing Will’s number just to see if it would go through. 

     It did go through — and I was talking with Will’s sister (Will doesn’t have a sister, only a brother, but that doesn’t stop me from inventing things in my subconscious as I go along).  She was extremely irritated with me for calling, telling me that Will didn’t want to come to the phone.  I felt as though she were lying, and that he was listening someplace nearby.  But I continued on, thinking that this call was going to cost me more money on a per-minute basis, saying that I regretted the choice that I had made, and wanted Will back in my life, no matter what. 

     She said to me that it would be in my best interest to leave Will alone, never to call again.  While I agreed, I still wanted her to relay the message in the hopes that he would call me back. 

 

     I woke up shortly after hanging up with her, and walking a little bit farther down the beach while feeling the breeze pick up. 

 

     Not exactly the kind of dream that I would want to have, given that I’ve pretty much consigned myself to the thought that I wouldn’t ever find Will again.  It’s just one of those things that continue to haunt me given that I’m not dating, and have no desire to really given the way that I’m feeling as the New Year approaches.

 


 

     Well, that’s about it for the time being.  I might come back to write more later, as I think of more things going through my head.  Until then or the next time.

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