Panjabi MC – Jogi
Unsuccessful at sleep again, I brought the iPod to bed thinking the meditation music would relax me enough to stop my roving mind. I was wrong and my fingers played the screen. This nano isn’t my favorite. I’ve been through a few generations of the iPod and ended up liking the video since it had games on it that could take my mind off waiting for appointments in doctors’ offices and the space of 160 gigs could hold all my albums. This has only 14 gigs and only holds a quarter of my music (if that.) So i’m up and writing a blog entry because between upstairs and my bedroom I’ve had at least 3 ideas what to write about and forgot each one of them.
One was (I just returned from perusing the internet and various time wasters,) the people you hang with or don’t hang with sometimes aren’t good for other people but are good for you. I realized after many many years of feeling confused as to why my Mother thought most of my friends were secret degenerates and why I of all my siblings wasn’t allowed to bring people I met to the house. I am a secret degenerate.
Now that doesn’t mean that I am toxic or evil. It just means that I am not your average plebeian. People don’t like to be challenged on their home turf. People don’t like to have to work harder when it comes to being at home. And granted people go home to rest from the chaos of reality and the world. I know I do. The problem is is that I have chaos in my head. It never leaves. I don’t get that break. What other people see as a normal day in their life I see as a particularly quiet day in my head. I consider that peace of mind a reprieve from most of my days where pandemonium reigns. I feel that people should get not just a taste of my private h3ll but a full fledged mental play with bells and whistles thrown in for good measure. I’ve had to live with it for years. Why should anyone else escape the colorful heinousness that my brain suffers from? That’s not kind? Neither is having people deny me my reality. Don’t tell me to “suck it up.” Don’t tell me to “put on my big girl panties”. Do you realize how condescending that is? Before you blurt something stupid to me you should have to have a simulated experience where you get to try out the brain waves. And then have some ignoramus tell you to deal with it.
The anger will never go away.
So my best friend taught me a little about how football works. That’s American Football. Not that I really wanted to know but I figured if I was going over to her house I ought to at least be able to follow the game. I like the hard cider, Woodchuck particularly but I’ve become a lightweight. We both have. Time was when we would go out and pound down some booze, maybe get into some drama and then drive home drunk avoiding the police. Yes, I told you I was a secret degenerate. I don’t recommend you do the same. In fact if my kids do it it makes me a whirling scream freak. They’ve past that stage though so I don’t worry too much anymore.
So I fell asleep for 5 minutes. (At least my friend said I did as she went out to smoke a cigarette in the front “yard” which is really a parking lot.) The building she lives in is so old that the stairwell is one of those winding narrow death traps that old buildings call stairs. I swear my leg will become buried in one of the steps to the thigh when my foot comes pounding down on the sway that the old wood has developed from years of use. As much of a degenerate that I am I still have enough manners in me to (usually) accompany my host to the landing and watch her smoke. Well we sometimes talk too.
The Pats won. I had an abnormally normal time. Which means that my brain didn’t torture me about how bad I was and whether or not my friend was secretly harboring anger at me or if I was being appropriate or not. It was very relaxing and felt unusually refreshing.