Addiction, Attention Seeking, Blogging, dating, Friendship, Writer's Block, Writing, yoga

No Off-Switch

imgres-22Scenes from this week are like a montage in a movie where an overgrown teenager finally begins to take adult control of her life. Driving lessons! Looking at apartments for sale! Organizing things into manila folders! Demi Lovato’s “Confident” is playing in the background of every store I walk into (I read messages into the pop songs that follow me around, the way other people read tea leaves; incidentally, if you hear “Uptown Funk” three times in a row, know it is a harbinger of satanic forces in your immediate vicinity, and get the fuck out of the Yogurberry).    Also, a thing that happened this week: the blog was featured on the Discover section of WordPress. This momentarily opened up the pipeline of attention I have so long and ardently desired that I needed to take an Advil and lay down. Apparently, wanting things is easier, in many ways, then getting them; I’m constantly trying to get people to look at me, but apparently I have no idea what I want to tell them once I get their attention. Cue panic.

My last post got two likes, so I’m kind of used to being a blog nobody who can comfortably and anonymously spout whatever she likes about her vagina, and now, for a moment anyway, it seems that the mic is on.   Fuck! It’s a lot for this attention addict.   I think about this guy I knew, years ago, who had a pretty hardcore crack problem; he found the transformer where the local dealers were stashing their curbside package for easier street distribution, utterly by accident, when he was cracking open pieces of city infrastructure to try to salvage the innards for copper scrap. He looked at all the shiny narcotics, neatly packaged for individual sale, and he thought I’m probably going to die. No off-switch. I relate, brother.

Balancing the equation, the thing I hate most is when someone ignores me. There are other things I hate, like when I see people dragging their dogs away from things they want to smell or when someone plays the bagpipes on the subway, but ignoring me is the number one way to make me lose my mind.

I’m not sure if Connecticut is ignoring me this afternoon or if he’s trapped in an abandoned mineshaft or if he forgot that we are supposed to be going to see Deadpool in an hour, but there is no word, and my texts are sounding increasingly strained, all prefaced with things like Don’t mean to sound paranoid here…   I’m a perfectly rational person until you blow off my texts or defriend me on the Facebook, and then: crazy time.

It’s my own fucking fault too, because I have a HUGE goddamned mouth. I could never secretly be a superhero; I’m way too attention-starved. I’d be all cryptically namedropping my Justice League pals or letting my utility belt just peep out from under my sweater or finding situations at work that accidentally show people how superstrong I am.

So I couldn’t resist telling Connecticut about the blog and the whole Discover thing and the brief spate of online attention and why I have my phone, merrily vibrating with notifications, out on the table where everyone can see it (I completely suck as a human being and am hoping modesty, and quiet dignity, and bigger boobs, are in the karmic roll-of-the-dice for the next go round).   And I send him a link, even though the last couple of months of this blog are chockfull of references to my infatuation with him.

Anyway, I send him a link and a Bluebeardy warning to ONLY look at the one entry and not to poke around at the others.   Which is basically like telling someone where you keep your diary, and what page your thoughts about them are featured on, and that there is free candy inside. And I haven’t heard from him since.

We’re friends, though, seriously.   I like Connecticut, even though we are completely different kinds of animals.   This is, after all, a man who is on a self-imposed hiatus from sex and relationships: a year of voluntary celibacy, as he puts it, which sounds to me more like a judge’s sentence then a life experiment. Us being friends is like one of those old unlikely-buddy movies. I’m thinking the one where they make Danny Devito and Arnold Schwarzenegger put on matching white suits.

And now I have probably screwed that up because I have an almost comical ability to be discreet about anything, ever.   This is why Sketch won’t tell me about anything anymore: you’re just going to put it in your blog.  Sketch is nowhere to be found, either. He’s just started yoga teacher training, coincidentally with that hot instructor who looks like him that I was stalking a couple of years ago. So he’s busy, and I am imagining that he has girls all over him, “adjusting” him with their hands and sucker-like yogi vaginas. Girls always like Sketch, and girls also love male yoga teachers, so I glumly fear I have seen the last of him.

I’m home, alone, and my phone is still going. It buzzes and it lights up. Attention. But not from Sketch and not from Connecticut, and I am on the Discover tab and I am still kind of totally alone.  But I’m discovering things on my own, such as the fact that I am not naturally such a terrible driver, and that I can learn to be better. Outside, from the stereo of a passing car, Bruno Mars promises to uptown funk me up. It harbingers a text from Connecticut, who was napping, and who wants to know if I am OK.

 

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24 thoughts on “No Off-Switch

  1. Disclaimer: I am intoxicated with the ‘drink’, right at this merry moment. Jäger bombs times n! All turned up!
    And, the whole night, tonight, after spending the previous night, last night, and day, today, thinking about your style of honest writing, and your wit — ooooh, that wit — Three major things happened to me: 1. Involuntarily urinated on myself as a result of something you wrote. 2. Had a sphincter or three spasm unconrollably as a result fo something you wrote. 3. Discovered that you might be my spirit humanimal! 4. That the way you write fucked with my brain so much that I had a wet dream about it for some fucking unknown reason! 5. That you reinvigorated this entire wordpress experience for me and slapped me into a new realm of focus, as it concerns MY writing. It’s now blaringly obvious that I have ignored my need for honest writing way too long. No more! No more, I tell you. All the fucking way from here on in. 6. Thank you, Discover, for delivering a/the/my muse to me.
    Okay — this might be more than three things that happened to me, but, fuckit, I’m under the influence and counting is a bit redundant right now. You better keep on writing (no pressure), so that I can keep on reading and writing.
    Miss. T.R.
    Damn!
    gert

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  2. Clearly I don’t know you. But your writing does have that ability to effect people, and so I was also thinking about your writing. I may have then paroosed the rest of your blog, (I’m also on a facebook break so really I stalked it, hungry for human information, even if they’re strangers) and saw that you had a few likes and comments and was wondering if this was your break. Then I started thinking about how brutally honest you are on your blog and if you did that in the comfort zone of essentially anonymity and did I mention I’m on a facebook break and hypothetically digging through people’s brains is probably my favorite hobby?

    Anyways, I was wondering if that would effect your writing, and how oddly brash it was to write about all of that in general, anonymity or no. And I decided I give all the kudos for it. Fuck, your writing has been haunting around in multiple people’s brains for days. And it’s the writing, not just the brutal honesty, I thought about that too. And it’s refreshing as hell to read about something I actually care about. Another human, real experiences I can relate too, real things no one talks about except in close circles.

    So thank you. A lot. And keep at it. Fuck the rest.

    Liked by 1 person

    • It’s like shouting the truth from behind some bushes! Anonymity is a weird thing. But I masquerade as a responsible adult in the rest of my life, and none of my students need to read my drug-and-dildo-infused life stories!

      Tell me why you’re taking a FB break. Because have been considering.

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      • Haha, truth.

        I tell most people Lent, but that’s just a good way to give myself a time frame. I’m not religious. Really I’m doing it because I like to find things in my life that are clear escapes from my own reality, and becoming unhealthy and time consuming habits, and see if I can tear them out. Lent provides an easy explanation to people, a solid time line, and my mom is religious and does Lent so a fellow sufferer.

        Things I’ve noticed for real though, I get so much more stuff done now. Every single day. I used to spend hours on facebook, now because I can’t I just get restless and then end up doing productive shit. It’s honestly kind of exhausting and I genuinely feel like I’m having withdrawals, but at the very least it’s a fun experiment. I’m only a week in and the two things I miss the most are being a mindless zombie for hours (it really is hard to do that with most other activities), and knowing everything about everyone’s life. I fucking love gossip, and just generally being in the know. I don’t miss the communication part too much, I just text the people I used to tag in things to tell them I miss them.

        The whole thing is agonizing but I’m hoping after Lent I’m better about using it way less. I gave up naps and sleeping in last year and now it’s easier to get out of my depression stints. I think this’ll be the same.

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  3. Also, now you don’t have to feel obligated to “like” pictures of people’s ugly babies. So that’s a win. Good for you, leveraging real personal growth out of Lent, And I totally agree that naps cause depression. My depression basically whips me from place to place because my couch is the place where I feel sad about my entire life. Anyway. I think you rule.

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