Swimming Out

Nothing is good enough for people like you. Last night Red & I talked at a very loud bar for an acquaintance’s birthday. When we saw each other first and asked the “How are you”s we were both “fine” because both of us have been rejected a lot lately. And you don’t really want to say that because you don’t want to be the bummer, but also you don’t want to be insincere. I’m sure the resolution is be sincere and be happy. Oh, yeah, no big, getting right on it. She says at first it was like, “well even if there are miles to go I couldn’t have imagined being here a year ago” and same but isn’t it funny that no matter how far along I get it seems it didn’t happen soon enough despite it happening sooner than I thought. Tuesday was my one year LA-iversary. I cried in a Starbucks while working on a submission packet after getting an email from my manager, which is I guess fitting because it’s just about the most LA thing that can happen. Happy holidays. It was a blow because I felt I had so much good energy in my corner. One could see all the good energy, not quite realized, as a win, but I don’t. At least not right now.

Thinking heaps about Oprah’s concept of ego: identifying as anything outside of yourself. Really absorbing that, noticing it, and at the same time curious about Step Two, which is I Have an Ego Now What? Theme of the summer is I love honesty. It’s absolutely magnetic. She told me in my ears via her podcast that by identifying as a skinny person she opened up the rest of the world to identify her that way too. And, no, it wasn’t right for everyone ever for the rest of time to obsess over her lbs, but she set up the game board, she knows. I get annoyed when people ask “what’s up now?” irate when someone said to me one lousy day after landing from my international flight, “So are you sort of just hanging around now?” But I guess if the way I see myself is My Work, what do I think everyone else will see? I am Alice who vs. a Writer named. Hard to let go. The illusion that a dysfunctional pattern got us to where we are is strong. I start hurting remembering who doesn’t believe in me. I hate my own self. Mainly because she goes through extended periods where she doesn’t like anything. I mean, truly, not a single thing. I try to make a list of what I am excited for and come up with one item. Not knocking the one item.  I love the one item. (Going to Horror Nights at Universal Studios.)

A more optimistic take rattles around in the back of my head that this is my time, my blank space to decide what I am and what I need. I am worried I won’t like what comes up. And what's most boggling is I have never felt more selfish with my time. The lurching makes it hard for me to even make dinner before 9:30 PM let alone call my congressman. I guess I've been calling him for three years, so perhaps it doesn't matter. But I think that's what down people want to believe, so they don't have to push past the self-centered grip of dysphoria. And yet I just can't right now. Usually I'm good about "can" versus "don't want to."