Sunday, September 7, 2014

Silence is the best policy

I have been very vague about 2014. Which almost feels like I'm about to burst. You know the feeling. That moment you devour a huge meal after fasting for 7 hours because you can't get up from your desk, because you are swamped (or lazy). And your stomach starts to punish you for neglect. And you feel like your pants are about to burst. Or your small intestine.

Maybe that just happens to me.

In any case, for many reasons I am actively trying to keep my mouth shut. Having trusted easily, having been betrayed by the "promise me you won't tell anybody" followed by a "dude, I never repeat anything" time and time again. It all makes me feel so dumb. Like, way past na├»ve. Like, simply stupid. I'm 33 years old and I still fall for it. I see the good in everybody, or I want to see good in everybody.

Why do I like to share so much? I don't know. Well, maybe I do, but it sounds infantile and dumb.

See, I love helping people. I love it because it makes me feel so elated, so refreshed. Like that moment you seek refuge from a 100-degree humid summer afternoon by walking into an over-air-conditioned store. It brings new life to me. Relief that I can make someone happy.

Told you it was dumb. It's also clearly very selfish. Yes, I hate seeing anybody in pain. Especially kids. Also, one of the reasons I am a vegetarian is because the insurmountable pain that is felt for that burger just doesn't seem worth it. Animals in turmoil is one of my kryptonites.

That said, I also feel this endorphined-soaring sensation when I can help someone. This joy and moment of peace. If only for a split second. I feel I have purpose. And that's what we are all after, right? purpose?

The problem is, in the last 9 months my purpose hasn't been so clear. Fuzzy, even. A sudoku puzzle in the beginning stages has more clarity than whatever the hell my purpose is. But it doesn't mean I didn't still seek the refuge of helping others (ironic, isn't it?).

And so, I am (well, was) willing to be an open book and share my experiences, if it means bringing joy or enlightenment, or even entertainment, to someone. Hearing someone laugh at my words is magical. No matter the mood I am in, my right cheek exposes my one and only dimple (on my face, any way) when I can cause laughter.

In addition, if my words can help someone, in any way, it just feels like . . . I don't know. I don't know what word to use. It's a very pristine feeling, primitive perhaps. Very much untainted from the cynical mishaps of my life.

But those moments don't seem very worth it anymore. I feel completely guarded. To love, to friendship,   to people. Even people on the street. I don't like to be approached, and so I have this real serious mug on my face. Like I'm gonna choke a bitch. Which is HILARIOUS, since my voice is as pitched as a hamster. As street as I am (lol), I'm not capable of throwing my arms down. Or whatever that saying is when you punch someone.

Just random words, you guys. Random thoughts in my head at 2am in the morning.

My assistant is out for a week and a half. Which means I am manning the fort solo. Which means I better get some good sleep to prepare for Monday.


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