I dreamt I was eating cake that can't even belong in this dimension. I was incarcerated but it was worth it. The frosting was thick and sparkly and the bulk of it was a texture which I'm not sure has ever manifested. Tiramisu might be the closest equivalent, but no funny business in the flavor. Very soft, very pure.
I'm rolling in nausea and contemplating a cup of coffee. I ought to knock that off, revise the order of operations. This will be fairly quick. I dreamt I was at a big sprawling concert, and I had to read aloud something about the dimensions of the King's purple garment (which was way too short), and I almost lost my voice, kept tripping over words. I'm going back to the jail tonight and not feeling it. I might just start crying and run out of the room, for all I care. My mom, who looks anorexic, is too busy to visit because of her new exercise routine. Ah, people and their own restrictions, their crazy compulsions and "needs," and the belief that they are doing the right thing. Who can know? Who can know?
It occurs to me people give what is easy for them to give. Some people seem very generous but most stay within the comfort zone designed by their contexts and instincts. I've had beaus make outrageous presents to me: my 17 year old bf, from wealthy parents, earned his own money working as a minimal wage laborer for a stone mason all summer and then wrote me a check for $1000 to get me a headstart. E. moved into my hospital room. I constantly get checks for various thousands, and I've become slightly inured, though obviously I shake a bit when informed of large settlements. Our hearts are greedy and I've felt guys try to appropriate me with presents. Very little comes from disinterested generosity; that is the precious thing, the missing link. I can't say I'm capable of it myself.
D. provides little materially as of the past year, but when he's had positive momentum in the past he willingly pays more than his share. I question his ambition but he has a new idea about entering the medical field, first as a CNA, then maybe an x-ray tech or an EMT. Let's hope he does something like that, he's gonna have a baby! I support his musical interests but the job market for music teachers is not flourishing and he doesn't necessarily have the crazy drive to pursue something so precarious, to insist on having a job that's hard to get, letting the chips fall where they may. The older he gets, the more behind he falls, so he willfully falls farther and farther behind. It's a common enough cycle, and I can't convince him in any lasting way that the whole jig can be turned around in a matter of days, with recommitting to a new lifestyle of hardwork every day. He thinks things take too long, and might not work anyway. They say a child makes many men grow up fast and I know he hates himself for the way he putzes around cluelessly, and I'm glad he at least admits that he's wasting a great deal of energy. Anyway, enough. What the hell am I going to do? That depends very much on my support system, which is a work of art like any other. My mom aggravates me but she could be an asset and hopefully I could be to her, as well. Though I perhaps shouldn't assume it's a little girl, I'm nearly positive, and if so we are three generations of women. At first I wanted a boy and now I can't imagine that, though I know males much better than females and seem to resonate with them.
I can't afford to worry too much about D's career (or lack thereof), or mine, or this or that gender, right now as other things take precedence.
D. can be cruel with his words, he has strange outbursts that come from a place of feeling trapped for huge parts of his life, from parents who were wildly inconsistent, sometimes encouraging him to follow his quote dreams end quote (yes, I ripped steez from a King, a late King: don't we all from time to time?), pointing to musical talent in his lineage (his great grandmother was a concert pianist, his grandmother was the organist for the Spiritualist church in Augusta for many years), other times discouraging him; when he liked computers, his dad told him there would be no jobs in computers in a few years, and at other times he said he had to learn a trade, that music was merely a hobby, of course. D's dad has not worked for nearly twenty years, and rather hates himself, himself. My very own mom hasn't ever had a job that was very fulfilling, though she's enjoyed this and that: a short cleaning business stint (whatever happened to that? well, E., dangled this super good deal of a car in front of my face for the last few weeks, bullied me into thinking if I didn't take it I was making a huge mistake, and obviously he knows a lot more about vehicles than me but I know how to spot a shittalker and I'm pretty annoyed, though I don't have the fury for a typical protest plus there's nothing I can do with bitching to manifest the car, ready to go, in front of me: must either move, or press, on), baking, working in a health food store, painting under the table just a few years ago. She's not an inherently lazy woman, I don't think, doesn't flinch from hard work, but doesn't see the point in working for little pay and though this has driven me to rage near distraction in the past, I bet a lot of people feel like that.
My jury's out on this. Hard work is good, sure, but not when it becomes a point of pride or elevating yourself above others. Judgment is the worst, and it would be difficult for me to follow my thoughts here without being judgmental. [Time to go eat, though I've been up less than an hour. Some habits have to change, can't play blood sugar games at a time like this. Left over, sort of burnt, whole grain berry pancake crumbles with lots of butter and cottage cheese; not everything is perfect. And a couple pieces of dark chocolate with pareils (sp.?), those little candy dots. Whoa, reflux, and moving right along.]
It's something like this. I don't mind if people don't want to compete in this difficult economy for paid work, if they don't have to. If someone offered me a lifelong trust fund, I wouldn't think twice. What is difficult for me to understand, however, are scenarios such as couples in which the woman works hard, maybe even over time, all the time, and the man doesn't work at all. This is the case for D's parents. When the couple has no children, it's even harder for me to understand how and from where the female draws her acceptance and even admiration, especially if working hard is a big part of the woman's identity. This is old school and for many obsolete, but in the Book of Genesis two curses are bestowed based on gender. Man is to toil by the sweat of his brow, and woman is to bear children in pain. Perhaps that sounds offensive and outrageous to some, and certainly not all women have children and I would never argue that all should. But for women, having the ability to carry a child is both a burden and a joy. Menstruation, though I am of course a fan and already miss it terribly, is no cake walk. Worrying about pregnancy if it's not what you want, or even if it is, isn't either. Making a decision about when or if to host a growing life, is increasingly complicated. Yes, men take part in parenting, but the process is not the same. What is their burden? They should work. (Yeah, fleshed that out well.)
I had my own romantic experience in which I was rendered the villain, with a guy who didn't work and no one thought twice about it. (I did. His brother did.) Since I was physically handicapped and ceased, temporarily, financially needing to work I've consistently done shitloads of community service. This is a personal choice which is probably as much/much more about my self-esteem and sanity than any truly noble impulses (who has them? who has them, really?) But anyway, I really don't have much sympathy for grown, able-bodied men who can't work because they go to school. Especially when they're well into their mid-twenties, and not pursuing a rigorous or compressed curriculum. I think if an individual has the energy to stay up late playing video games, going out to eat several times a week, etc. etc. than some of the original reasons why work was difficult have dissipated, and a person has become complacent, self-satisfied in their position. If they don't have a need for money - though saving for greater independence benefits most - they should do community service, not in a few years, but asap. What makes the scenario even more frustrating for me is when an individual who scarcely applies themselves to anything but classes - which really, in my opinion, is a small and shallow slice of life - is constantly judgmental about other people sucking at life, whatever that means. When there is an inner circle, a convincing product of insecurity in which anyone who has not landed in the inner circle (selection criterion has to do with, largely, among other assuredly admirable qualities, the inner circle member's ability to wholeheartedly and unquestionably accept the individual in question, stroke their ego, and support their actually faulty ideas, implied or otherwise, about their superiority) is automatically suspect. Just because you're sober and have a select circle of friends does not mean you are thriving or doing wonderful things for our planet. Superiority based on what? A quick wit? An ability to lash others on the spur of a moment?
These things grow moldier and moldier. More and more hard work and integrity loom large in my tortured brain. I don't even care how you (general you, this is all general despite associations) got in your fucked up, seemingly irredeemable situation. All I care about is an earnest effort to, from here on out, make the most of a confirmed mess. And compassion: I make no claim to it if I'm condemning others for not having it. What is that saying, you can't destroy the master's house with his tools. There is no master, anyway. Just certain unchallenged assumptions which have been sneaking under my skin.
