I had a dream the other night that I got back together with my ex-girlfriend. In the dream, it was unbelievable in a believable way. You know dreams. They're often full of horseshit. The kind of shit that you can stand and doesn't make you puke, but you know it's still shit. I was warm and filled with the happiness though in my unconscious state. Then, alarm clock. It was one of the few times in the last few months I woke up depressed and full of self-pity. I had to get Jade to school so the "boo hoo" feeling wasn't there long. And when those mornings involve a 5 minute pajama wrestling session on the bed, it's really hard to stay bummed. The feeling's been creeping it's head up more and more. It's not the feeling that I wish I was still with this girl, because now more than ever I know it wouldn't and shouldn't have worked out. It's just this holding pattern I'm in and the exhaustion of compounded extreme patience in dealing with this lame situation. She gave me the feeling that life could move past this divorce and be interesting with someone new...filled with new love. I tell people yes I can do this and that, when I should be saying "like-hell". This is my time right now and what I have to work with is this series of gears that are stripped, clunking me to the same place despite whatever effort. I'm always wary of being an asshole, then I anally rape myself with my own passive aggression when the world moves on without me.
Getting a divorce is not as hard on my nerves in the sense you might think it is. More of a time ticking away thing. Over two years now since separation, it's not the definitive finality of it that's bugging me. It's not the loss of family, the unity here and gone, the hurt, the back stabbing and lying, the worry of surviving raising a daughter as a single dad. The cooking, cleaning, purging of old toys and the plate spinning act required in a hectic schedule. I don't hate Tana. In fact we get along quite well these days. You know what it is? The fact it's taking so fucking long. Life doesn't stop. Work doesn't stop. Friends don't stop getting themselves in trouble and my daughter doesn't stop growing up. Always a hierarchy of urgent priorities. Time escapes me. I'm getting older. I'm not old, but at some point, I'm going to be past the age of possibly starting another family. I'm still pretty sure I want to do that. I was young and naive when I got married to Tana. Buried in art and music, I knew a family was what I wanted and we spent so much time laughing and loving that it seemed like the right thing. So we did it. Tana wanted it too. Then, bingo, we were a family. But obviously it wasn't meant to be for so many reasons. And like I said, that's not what is eating at me. I want to move on. My not being divorced is what really broke my ex-girlfriend and I up, and it's the reason I can't keep looking for Mrs. Right. Still kinda heart-fucked on that side of things. The marriage is over in my mind and heart, but not on paper. And apparently, paper counts. I can definitely see that.
So, next journey pretty fucking please. Seems impossible when the divorce process crawls along and each step of the procedure involves me and Tana pushing a fat sack of bullshit mixed in with our lives and daughter up a ladder just to be eventually pushed off a cliff as a reward when it's all done. Nifty prize! Like, I bought my ticket to go, I'm at the train station, and "Lazy Joe" the train conductor is at some point most likely going to arrive at the station. Worst part is, I can see the train stopped about a half mile down the tracks (still in metaphor here) with Joe taking in the view and happily snapping pictures of the sunset and I just have to wait for him to get his fill. Because driving a train IS Joe's journey thus he's taking his time…and such is the way the world works. I'm always in some queue. And Lazy Joe isn't lazy at all. In fact he holds the key to happiness. A key that fits in his own personal lock and no one else's. So I must forge my own key.
More and more as Jade grows up I see myself judging people. And lets just say, 99 percent of the time I judge myself more than anybody else in the world. Sounds bad, judging people, but there's really no room for assholes and idiots in my life. I should say, there's no room for "more" assholes and idiots in my life. The ones that are here are here and I love them…myself included of course. I'm in a phase of phasing out crap. A mission of omission. I feel like I want to pick the whole house up, turn it upside down and shake it out over a dump. Instead, I'm a hamster in a large burrow sorting this and that indefinitely. Try getting into a relationship while still being married. Even if they are cool with it, I'm not. And my nerves are getting the best of me. I find myself, wanting a dog, to go out and spend lonely days and evenings walking around aimlessly and pointlessly until I need new shoes. Find myself hating everything and everybody on some level. People are either too happy, or compromised against their will or too weak. And here I am. All of those things at once. Absorbing hell and heaven in the same breath.
Work is great, Jade is great. But I'm getting bitter from the inside out. Other girls have come into my life recently whom have been funny and or beautiful and I've pushed them away for one reason or another. Unsatisfied with this thing or that or restless with feelings of staying true to myself. Which is what? So I find myself mostly encumbered and shackled by how I will judge myself as the god of me given any certain circumstance. It's this mentality that screws me and will screw me indefinitely unless I squash it. I'm not bending as much as I need to. My expectations are set too high. I live with two great people. Both currently seeing other people. It's irritating, but I'm happy for them at the same time. I see I have one of the most wonderful people in the world by my side, but I must share her. And let's face it. Jade will eventually leave home and be her own person and I'll be on my own working my way perfectly into being a sour ass man-bitch. The days Tana has her are already a window into this reality yet in the present, given these spans by myself I look forward to catching my breath, regardless of the me-smog that pollutes the potential rest. Only human I suppose. Parenting is amazingly fulfilling and difficult.
It's not always like this. When at work or in good company I hardly show signs of the hole I'm in. Friends say, I cant understand how you can be so cool headed given the predicament you're in. I say, I'm good and I have pride in my abilities as an artist and love for the times I create music or even just being born who I am with these gifts not wasted. I sincerely hold my head high most hours of the day. Love my folks and family, cut myself breaks and genuinely try to share the richness of my life with the ones who have enriched mine. Most of my friends will tell you this. But then comes the darkness. It's not booze or depression that gets me. I'm not an alcoholic or anything. I'm just stuck and mad a certain amount of the time. And it seems, like the fate of our environment, if a big change isn't made soon, I'll collapse.
Maybe I just need to work out. Maybe I need to go to counseling. Maybe I need Huey Lewis to give me a new drug. Maybe I need to start saying no to saying yes. Because the more I rely on the reserve tank of good fortune I've built up, the more it runs out and I'm itching with dissatisfaction. This is not a cry for help, no no. More an act of art. A verbal expression of creativity most likely at my own expense but mentally needed in order for me to sleep. Even a retarded sketch releases frustration inside me. Oh the creative types. We do our own thing...or try to. And that I'm sure takes the burden off others to perpetually feel they need to entertain. Because when we're all on our death bed and our loved ones are with us, lets hope the key we've forged for our own locks helps unlock the frustration gate into the next chapters of their lives.
