Wut Dood I Dood?

I am not a normal chick, in a very uncool, unquirky and irritating way. I have these eccentricities that make no sense and I get that, and I try to think outside my own retardations, but it's really difficult sometime.

I was a drama queen for a long time, and it did a whole lot of damage to me in ways I won't go into. But I mention it because, now, it's made it so that I don't talk about my emotional stuff. With anyone. Ever. Unless it's going to affect people directly, I do not let anyone know when I'm having problems. I just can't. I feel ashamed and weird and it makes things worse rather than better.

And I don't want people to ask me about how I'm doing. I don't want anyone involved, and I just wanna hermit myself and deal with it on my own, and resurface when I can be vivacious and fit for general consumption again.

I know that's not the usual run of things for most folks. When they're struggling, they want support and help and, truthfully, that's the right way to feel. I know this because when someone I care for is having a rough go, I WANT to go help and support them. But then I get paralyzed, because what if they're like me and they wanna be left alone and I'm making things worse by asking what's up?

Kyle says the solution is just to say 'Yo, I'm here, lemme know if I can help', but I worry that's not enough. Like, what if they're waiting for someone to ask what's wrong, or to just go and start helping? What if just saying 'I'm here if you need me' makes me seem like I only cursorily care? What if that's not enough? Arrgh.

I don't wanna pry into people's business. I absolutely do not. Whatever they do, they do, it's cool. But I do want to help if I can help with stuff. Oi. I am weird. It sucks.

Old Bailey LJ Entry

9/2/2008

We went to Amscot to cash my check and they gave Bailey a couple mini Tootsie rolls. And as we were leaving, she found a dollar on the floor. We asked people there if it was theirs and it wasn't, so she kept it. And (the little BABY) later she put it in the Ronald McDonald House donation box of her own accord. 'Because it's not really mine but I want to do something with it', she says. My love. 

So, we go get the car's oil changed at Wal-Mart and it begins to storm torrents as we're in there. And we wander the toy aisle and hang out and the rain's just NOT letting up. So we go into the garage area and watch it pouring. "I hope there's a break," I tell her. "Bailey, tell it to stop raining." 

She thinks for a moment and the pulls out one of the Tootsie rolls and hoists it up on high in her pinched little fingers toward the storm clouds. I watch this as casually as I can for a moment before commenting. "Honey, are you trying to stop the rain with the power of your Tootise roll?" 

"Yep," she tells me. "Cause remember when I got this and then I found a dollar." 

Of course. Der, Mom. Sheesh. 

So we wait a little longer and it still doesn't let up. She she sighs, lowers her arm, unwraps the candy and pops it into her mouth. I eye her. 

"It failed me," she says, chewing a little more viciously than she needed to. 

She would make an AWEsome god.

Deth

Cerbic thrashing

Hi-hat strokes that, for all their posturing

Reduce to a guttural glaze.

Look, my bathing beauties -

We can peel this ten ways from Lars

And it's still not going to satisfy

So

As I type, the thundergood goes on in my head

In the simplest terms, ihateihateihate

Enough to levy it up into silliness

It's enough, enuff, to know that

tonight

I am most certainly superior

Despite the predilection for

Le frapper des têtes.

Eround

To love someone that is not good

Is folly, but we often would

Consign ourselves to bitter things

And take the bloodshed that he brings.

Because, of course as we both know

The play commands we suffer so,

Because we would not be content

To take an angel that was sent.

It foretells peace, and peace cannot

Create the passion that we’ve got.

And so, our ego and our id

Conspire to pry up the lid

And let loose folly in the form

Of bastard, bully, thug and worm.

And as he wounds us, we will sigh

And dream of ways that he can die

Quest Boogaloo

Quest Boogaloo

O, how do I make my baby believe

That there are such things as the dinosaurs

And the words all are fine once you write them in

And you’ve got to keep dancing for life to begin?

What do I say so my baby believes

That I just can’t exist ‘til his whimsy come back

And that love is an instinct, and reason is loose

And the magic is stored up all in my caboose?

What a drag, O my baby – we’re mired in real

And nothing’s the way that the other world was

I feel you’ve been poisoned with mortal and thought

When you fight alongside me I’ll pull the dream taut.

I think I’ve been wand’ring; I think I’ve been lost

And he’s got to come over to see what I sing

My baby needs ballast and blarney and bread

There’s sun past the demon that’s borrowed his head

I’ve got to do something; my baby’s all clogged

And how will I take him away to the isle

if the stones in his pocket won’t let the boy swim

And the shade in his soul makes my own soul go dim?

I can’t make him summer; he must make his own

Else where in his heart will I go to find light?

Where will he keep me if shadows are cold

And give me a place where I’ll never grow old?

I thought of the moment when he had to choose

And he took up the New and he banished the Old

And the fire was lit and I burned at the stake

And the choice wasn’t hard for his piety’s sake

I’ll never stop loving. I’ll never undo

all the knots that our fate tugged along through the years

But I fear for my baby and all he can sway

If his hate takes the witch and her magic away.

Conference

Pulled into conference with these

Poor, twill chairs, with these

Poor, thin hairs

I never thought He could even age.

Sat with my pad and my

Pencil at the ready, he was

Shaking and unsteady

He said he wished He had never been.

He said ‘My darling, miracles don’t exist.

‘We never alter what is happening mid-moment

‘There’s no point – if we want to change what is or isn’t

‘We just arrange it from the very start.’

So, we never know what He’s had His hand in.

My life is just things that never happened to begin with.

I’ve never protested, never

Balked at the reason

At the betraying treason

When it comes, I’ve been good as gold.

But I rather feel like the

Fellows need revealing

If it’s us that they’re stealing

Someone ought to let everyone know.

He said, ‘Go and tell her I never took the wheel

‘If divinity had issued that she be spared

‘There would’ve been no ice on the road to start

Why can’t people change for their own sake?’

I’ve got no answer, baby.

I’m Fate’s girl, not Yours.

Mouseketeer Stigmata

I believe in the Church of Disney.

I realized that nothing else really does it for me spiritually the way Disney does. And sure, you can spout off about corruption, but they're low on that totem pole compared to all the other major religions.

Going to the Parks gives me the same sense of fulfillment, peace and joy that other folks get from attending service. I can cheat at parking, but I never do so if I can afford to pay - that's my collection basket being passed around. I always throw a penny into the Cinderella Fountain, or any number of other spots - that's my lighting a candle. I have little rituals for all sorts of things there - my genuflection. And my praying the rosary is 'Por favor manténganse alejado de las puertas'. My 3 o'clock wine flight at France is my communion.

Ok, that might be a bit much, but you get the idea.

I proselytize like mad, probably as insufferably as any fundamentalist. I go there when I'm sad, when I'm afraid, when I need guidance. And, seriously, it's the only thing in my whole life that's WORKED. It's the only spiritual thing that's given me a return on my faith investment. And it was doing that before I even realized I was making a spiritual commitment.

I'm not talking about a higher power that you put your faith in, or a Creator, or divinity. Uncle Walt was mortal, and I do not ascribe his works to the formation of the Universe or the force which guides it. I mean a genuine, positive effect on my soul. It's constant, it's often given me more than I asked for, and it works.

People I admire greatly love Disney - Ray actually helped with Epcot. Gilliam praised the queues like I do. And, at its heart, it champions the values I consider most important - family, innovation, imagination, magic. It is, for me, a good place to be. It's a second home.

And that's all I've got to say about that.