![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
amulI woke up this morning and stumbled over to my computer, preparing to write out about this bizarre dream I had. (f)AD walks in and we start comparing dreams. As she leaves, I discover that my junx has totally been sticking out of my boxers for that entire conversation.
The embarrassment has caused me to totally forget the dream I had, except that at some point I walked into a hotel convention room to watch a movie, and choose to avoid sitting next to my friends. Instead, I sat next to this gay boy who immediately started trying to hit on me. Just watch the damn movie, I kept telling him.
Prefers Sacrifice called me last night. I'm watching Lord of the Rings, I told her. It's a movie about heroes. I did not mention that I had cried during the fall of Boromir, the first tear running down my cheek as he screamed, If you would but only lend me the ring! Nor did I tell her how fully disconsolate I became when Sam struggled into the canoe, I made a promise, Mr. Frodo...a promise. "Don't you leave him, Samwise Gamgee." (sobs) And I don't mean to...I don't mean to.
What does it matter if I'm making slow but steady progress, if I am still not strong enough to be there for my friends? What good is growing stronger, if I am still not strong enough to rise to the challenges I set myself? Hinduism would tell me that I need to accept my weaknesses, to acknowledge them gracefully. I have not the enlightenment, just as I cannot content myself with the knowledge that I have tried my hardest, as all good Karma Yogis should. In times of stress, I lose all of that careful balance.
I've said it before, warned people before, yet no one seems to listen. I am not naturally a good person. It is not my instinctive reaction. I must constantly think, must actively struggle to identify the noble thing to do and it is hard, conscious work to do those things.
I tried to alleviate these worries by paying more attention to the way in which I handle my relationship with Lacuna Diving Bunny. After the talk I previously mentioned, I've been trying to handle the situation as I imagine Radiant Idol would. To let her love me, to accept and cherish that love without feeling the need to pretend to reciprocate the degree. To enjoy her feelings for me, and mine for her, and not to let myself be burdened by the disparity.
I called LDB on Saturday and asked her if she still wanted to go to a party she had mentioned the night before. She tells me that I was more relaxed that night, sweeter and more tender to her. The next day, we went to the Botanical Gardens up north, and had what I can only describe as our first proper Date. I made the conscious effort to open myself up to her more, and have been continuing that effort in the time since. Given that this is the same period as the little fiasco at home, there was a lot on my mind that I would normally have been hesitant to discuss with her.
I'm reminded of the way that I used to beg my Priceless Pearl to relax enough to love me in return, the way that (f)AD used to ask the same of me. I used to mock all those boys who were so afraid of relationships, of talking about the way they feel. Now look at me.
It's probably not apparent from the things I'm writing, but my focus as I write this is to explore the thin line between my usual habit of beatings myself up over things I consider mistakes, and rationally coming to terms with them.
I fear that I will never learn the trick of it.
I fear that I will never learn the trick of letting go, or accepting criticism, or gracefully handling failure. I fear that I will never learn to recognize my passive-aggressive tendencies and put a stop to them before they cause serious damage to my life. I have become a modern day Jekyll, so studiously good at one moment and so notoriously bad at another.
Bulwarked by recent successes, I believed I had developed the strength of will, the belief in myself, to take on the task currently before me. Now I feel I have failed, and I must struggle against that oh-so-familiar thought, if I must fail, then I may as well fail monstrously. Mr. Hyde wants his potion.
Last night, (f)AD and I had our first civil conversation in days, after what I can only describe as my complete meltdown. We ended up going to Clarke's on Lincoln. The waitress caught a whiff of our conversation, and asked us about the break up, the age disparity, how we'd come from there to the diner. We answered in vague, nebulous terms, giving her only the most cursory of details. "Well, at least you're talking to each other again," she told us as she handed me the check. "That's really something."
It is really something. I must learn to content myself with that. Must learn to give myself credit for what I have done, what I am capable of doing. Perhaps it is another way of saying that I must learn to accept that I am not a hero, that I am no Aragorn. Is there no measure of pride I could take in being Boromir? He, at least, could die with a clean conscience.
I always used to play paladins, before they started making games with less black-and-white character concepts. The last game I played back in Pittsburgh, I was a boy who struggled to be recognized as a man. Here in Chicago, I play a rock-man unusual for his race in that he fears wasted time. Half his life passed in a dream while the apocalypse came and went, and now he races to make something of his life, to become a Hero of Legend before his time on Earth is ended.
PS - Does anybody know of a 24 hour diner in Chicago that's vegan friendly?
The embarrassment has caused me to totally forget the dream I had, except that at some point I walked into a hotel convention room to watch a movie, and choose to avoid sitting next to my friends. Instead, I sat next to this gay boy who immediately started trying to hit on me. Just watch the damn movie, I kept telling him.
Prefers Sacrifice called me last night. I'm watching Lord of the Rings, I told her. It's a movie about heroes. I did not mention that I had cried during the fall of Boromir, the first tear running down my cheek as he screamed, If you would but only lend me the ring! Nor did I tell her how fully disconsolate I became when Sam struggled into the canoe, I made a promise, Mr. Frodo...a promise. "Don't you leave him, Samwise Gamgee." (sobs) And I don't mean to...I don't mean to.
What does it matter if I'm making slow but steady progress, if I am still not strong enough to be there for my friends? What good is growing stronger, if I am still not strong enough to rise to the challenges I set myself? Hinduism would tell me that I need to accept my weaknesses, to acknowledge them gracefully. I have not the enlightenment, just as I cannot content myself with the knowledge that I have tried my hardest, as all good Karma Yogis should. In times of stress, I lose all of that careful balance.
I've said it before, warned people before, yet no one seems to listen. I am not naturally a good person. It is not my instinctive reaction. I must constantly think, must actively struggle to identify the noble thing to do and it is hard, conscious work to do those things.
I tried to alleviate these worries by paying more attention to the way in which I handle my relationship with Lacuna Diving Bunny. After the talk I previously mentioned, I've been trying to handle the situation as I imagine Radiant Idol would. To let her love me, to accept and cherish that love without feeling the need to pretend to reciprocate the degree. To enjoy her feelings for me, and mine for her, and not to let myself be burdened by the disparity.
I called LDB on Saturday and asked her if she still wanted to go to a party she had mentioned the night before. She tells me that I was more relaxed that night, sweeter and more tender to her. The next day, we went to the Botanical Gardens up north, and had what I can only describe as our first proper Date. I made the conscious effort to open myself up to her more, and have been continuing that effort in the time since. Given that this is the same period as the little fiasco at home, there was a lot on my mind that I would normally have been hesitant to discuss with her.
I'm reminded of the way that I used to beg my Priceless Pearl to relax enough to love me in return, the way that (f)AD used to ask the same of me. I used to mock all those boys who were so afraid of relationships, of talking about the way they feel. Now look at me.
It's probably not apparent from the things I'm writing, but my focus as I write this is to explore the thin line between my usual habit of beatings myself up over things I consider mistakes, and rationally coming to terms with them.
I fear that I will never learn the trick of it.
I fear that I will never learn the trick of letting go, or accepting criticism, or gracefully handling failure. I fear that I will never learn to recognize my passive-aggressive tendencies and put a stop to them before they cause serious damage to my life. I have become a modern day Jekyll, so studiously good at one moment and so notoriously bad at another.
Bulwarked by recent successes, I believed I had developed the strength of will, the belief in myself, to take on the task currently before me. Now I feel I have failed, and I must struggle against that oh-so-familiar thought, if I must fail, then I may as well fail monstrously. Mr. Hyde wants his potion.
Last night, (f)AD and I had our first civil conversation in days, after what I can only describe as my complete meltdown. We ended up going to Clarke's on Lincoln. The waitress caught a whiff of our conversation, and asked us about the break up, the age disparity, how we'd come from there to the diner. We answered in vague, nebulous terms, giving her only the most cursory of details. "Well, at least you're talking to each other again," she told us as she handed me the check. "That's really something."
It is really something. I must learn to content myself with that. Must learn to give myself credit for what I have done, what I am capable of doing. Perhaps it is another way of saying that I must learn to accept that I am not a hero, that I am no Aragorn. Is there no measure of pride I could take in being Boromir? He, at least, could die with a clean conscience.
I always used to play paladins, before they started making games with less black-and-white character concepts. The last game I played back in Pittsburgh, I was a boy who struggled to be recognized as a man. Here in Chicago, I play a rock-man unusual for his race in that he fears wasted time. Half his life passed in a dream while the apocalypse came and went, and now he races to make something of his life, to become a Hero of Legend before his time on Earth is ended.
PS - Does anybody know of a 24 hour diner in Chicago that's vegan friendly?
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 15 Jun 2006 04:47 (UTC)no subject
Date: 15 Jun 2006 09:33 (UTC)no subject
Date: 20 Jun 2006 08:09 (UTC)