Here there be monsters (socratic) wrote,
Here there be monsters

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Tread heavily for you tread on my dreams.

I'm pressing in my writing right now, as you could probably tell from my latest disgraceful attempt at humor, and I'm trying to figure out why. That means it's time for more navel-gazing self-examination replete with flawed self-analysis and subtle little lies and cover ups to hide my deep-seated shame at being me. That's one of the problems with my introspection. I always need to be careful not to lift the wrong psychological taurpalin, not only because of the humiliation and vulnerability it would bring to this journal but also for my own personal sanity. Maintaining the illusion of being a functional young adult with employment and aspirations and a college degree involves keeping certain basic psychological truths tightly contained. That may not be true for too much longer, I seem to be more and more capable of dealing with myself, but for now I don't want to risk it. So as I delve into the workings of my mind and some of you choose to come along as rubbernecking spectators be aware that those big green lumps on the side of the highway covered in wildflowers and dogwood trees aren't hills, they're sleeping giants. Let's not awaken them.

So I'm pressing in my writing. I've been trying to write a short little insignificant script and I simply cannot. Everything comes out either so stifled and minor that it's not worth talking to another person about, let alone filming, or too long and filled with characters to be filmable for zero money, at least given my situation of not knowing any actors or other potentially helpful people. There are a lot of people I could email if I needed help figuring out whether my joke about Polish corn poppies was offensive or not, but that's sort of extraneous to my current situation. I'm not entirely sure why I'm pressing. Well I know why I'm pressing, it's because every time I try to call upon the muse for natural flowing inspiration I get her answering machine message, which tells me that she's not available at the moment but that I should take a few shots of Jagermeister and not call her in the morning.

The real question is why the muse is ignoring me. The answer is that she's metaphorical, but the TRUE answer is that I'm expending too much psychic energy in other venues. When I took this job it seemed like the perfect compliment to my writing. A few hours a day in the real world, a bit of money in my pocket, nothing too strenuous or stressful to be done. The ideal day job minus the office full of gorgeous and available women, which I wouldn't want anyway. The thing is that it's taken quite a bit more out of me than I expected. For one I've been doing things that actually require my full attention, like filing and photocopying. My fine motor control is bad and I have to concentrate to do tasks like that. For another there's my relationship with my boss, which is good but odd. We have a lot of long discussions and are constantly telling jokes and building ideas for sketches or films, critiquing Hollywood, or having other discussions. I've learned a lot and I think that I've established a good contact. I think he respects me more for my wit and intelligence than my assistancing, which is fine because I don't aspire to be a great office worker. Not being a great assistant (I'm not an awful one but I have scads of imperfections that I could relate in detail if anyone wanted to hear them) has been difficult on me too. I hate myself for every mistake I make and every time he gets slightly annoyed with me the little guy in my head just goes off on me without anything resembling mercy. This isn't my bosses fault but it's a problem.

There are other issues as well. For one thing there's been my diet, or lack of one. I've gained about 13 pounds since I started working on Little Italy food and rushed snack excuses. I always write poorly when I'm gaining weight, fat does restrict the brain. To deal with this I'm going back on Atkins starting, well, already started. It's just a really easy way to lose weight and while I still don't think it's healthy long term it's healthier than what I've been doing and I already know the system. It makes sense. I might as well get my saturated fat from bacon and shrink my waistline rather than get it from Tiramisu and expand.

Then there's women, those scurvy dogs! I don't really want to talk about them right now except to mention a few introspective thoughts I've had about what type of gal I'm attracted to and some opinions about sex that nobody else is even remotely interested in. My type is pretty well established at this point. Physically I prefer a pale complexion, long hair, little to no makeup, absolutely no tattoos or non-ear piercings (non-pierced ears are preferable) medium build, un-accented high voice, conservative and feminine dress. That's not too important though. What I learned last night was a little more about how the attraction process works for me. There was this girl in my film class who fit my physical type perfectly but I didn't even notice her until she challenged something that I said, at which point I thought "Hmmm she's attractive." I've noticed a pattern of being attracted to women who challenge me in some way, and I think it may be for two reasons. 1) I have to respect a woman to be attracted to her. She can be absolutely "banging" (as the kids are fond of saying) in terms of face and body, but if she doesn't have it in personality or intelligence what's the point? She's a cream puff, all sweet exterior and empty calories. 2) Arousal. I keep my sexuality and interest nicely sublimated in public. On Sunday a guy asked me what I thought Gabe's girlfriend's best physical feature was and in addition to not answering the question because it was inappropriate I realized that I had no idea. I hadn't even paid attention. (The answer, by the way, is her ass, but that's the answer for about 85% of women in my opinion, so I don't know if it means anything) Now I'm not saying that it's a bad thing I don't go around checking out my friends' girlfriends, it's not, but the point is that I just don't pay attention at all until something arouses me in some way, at which point I'm less able to ignore my manly desires. This is slowly changing but it was an interesting thing to note. The way to some men's hearts is through their stomaches probably because of the sensual and arousing nature of food, the way to mine is apparently through my cerebrum.

By the way the new film class girl probably won't make another appearance in this journal because she's like 19 and that's too young for me to really think of anything but a physical attraction. Plus she didn't know about the TVA, and how can someone be attracted to a person who is in college but doesn't know about the TVA? It's crazy talk. Maybe if she were a foreigner she'd have an excuse but she's no Czech. No Czech at all!

Thoughts about sexuality then. I've decided that I'm still against promiscuity (at least among those I might want to be involved with, in general I don't really care) but that some of the reasons for this are rational and some are not. I think it's pretty darned reasonable to oppose it on the grounds that it's A) Irresponsible and B) Dilutes the pool of potential mechanisms for expressing affection. If you hand out intimate touch and intercourse like they're political pamphlets then how do you show romantic love? Saying "I love you" is SAYING it, not showing it, marriage is an infinitely complicated thing and something of a sham. Childbearing is great but very complex and saddled with responsibility. It also should NOT be undertaken for symbolic purposes. I think sex as a symbol is a good thing, all told, and waiting can be a viable choice. If you want to be promiscuous go ahead, it's your choice what you do with your body, but I just don't hold to the view that says that casual sex has no costs or consequences beyond the potentiality of disease and pregnancy. It definitely does from everything I've read and/or observed.

On the other hand it's important to separate such arguments from feelings brought about by regret and/or jealousy. I am somewhat regretful and/or jealous that I did not partake in any romantic encounters during the phase of life when most are experimenting with such things. I feel like I missed out on perhaps the most magical moment of such development and now I'm at an age where you're expected to be sophisticated and blase and desire hookups and meaningless companionship rather than intense learning and longing of first love. Realizing that I am indeed too old to have relations with 19 year olds has been an interesting and slightly depressing experience. I shall persevere though. Right now I have work to go to and tonight things to do of a filmic nature. Life marches onwards with or without me. Just do me a favor. If you see the muse ask her to call me, okay? She has my cell number. Tell her to use it.
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