March 25, 2005

• Ambivalence

  I’ve been talking to myself.  That is NOT, as common folklore
  would have it, a sign of insanity.  It is the way many creative
  and highly effective people consider dilemmas or work out solutions to
  problems.  For me, it’s often the only way I can have an
  intelligent conversation.

  Mercury is wrecking footrograde.  Some communications don’t get
  through.  If they do, they’re either misconstrued or are the
  things I end up wishing I hadn’t said in the first place.

  But on the other hand, I’m getting one opportunity after another for
  “housecleaning” of one sort or another.  This is what Merc retro
  is good for. That can only be to my ultimate advantage.  My
  literal and figurative houses can use all the cleaning they can
  get.  If a big mess comes in and makes it absolutely necessary to
  clean, then the little mess I’ve been working around has a chance to
  get cleaned up, too. 

  Start cleaning, and work fast.  There’s another load of junk (or
  treasure, depending on how you look at it) waiting at Felony Flats, and
  Greyfox might just decide to haul it up here to get it out of his
  way.  While you’re working, don’t stop thinking.  As if I could stop thinking!

  “I hate being an addict!” I say to myself.  Now, wait just a freakin’ moment here, says myself right back to me.  I am an addict.  I don’t
  hate being me  There’s nobody I’m aware of with whom I’d trade
  lives.  Ergo, I don’t hate being an addict.  Try to rephrase
  that into a statement that’s at least partially true, please.

  Addiction sucks.  Okay, addiction sucks bigtime, but haven’t I
  managed thus far to make a considerable amount of hay or lemonade or
  something of some use to someone out of all the insight and wisdom
  gained from this screwed-up life?

  Yes, I do have a point there, if I may say so myself.  It’s only active
  addiction that sucks.  I’ve never had an addiction that was
  entirely and unrelievedly pointless and destructive in
  retrospect.  What we need to do, me, myself and I, is get some
  retrospect on the current addiction(s).

  Oh, you had to go and pluralize that, didn’t you?  Well, yes, of
  course.  You wouldn’t want me being dishonest about this, would
  you?  Naah, never… not ever dishonest, most of all not dishonest
  with myself.  I didn’t just stupidly allow myself to get
  full-blown addicted to a supposedly harmless quasi-food substance…
  nooooh, while I wasn’t paying attention a few of the old addictions
  reasserted themselves.

  Yes, but I finally ditched the PlayStation addiction. 
  Finally??  Am I sure of that?  Of course not.  How could
  I be sure of that?  Once a junkie, always a junkie.  If I
  “ditched” one addiction, that’s only because I started spending my time
  and attention on something else.  The PS2 was out of commission
  long enough for me to start avidly consuming detective fiction again,
  staying up long into the night turning page-turner pages.  Now I’m
  running out of them. 

  I’ll either have to go to the library soon, or start in on that stack
  of non-fiction beside the bed.  Of course, there’s always the PS2,
  if I get that desperate.

  Hey, don’t forget the information addiction, you pathetic news junkie.  Hey
  right back!  What was I supposed to do when both PS2s were down
  and the computer was in the shop?  The TV was disabled when the
  antenna went down, so of course I turned on the radio.  NPR was a
  natural enough progression there.  One can stand only so much
  “adult contemporary” smooth jazz air pudding.  A little bit of All Things Considered was a welcome relief.  I wanted to hear a human voice other than my own.

  Oh, yes, but then it was Day to Day, The World, Fresh Air, Morning
  Edition… and now you’re into Calling All Pets and the Car Guys. 
  Hooked again!  Only now you can’t rationalize it as an alternative
  to the computer.  I’m blogging several times a day, reading and
  commenting all over Xanga, Googling the details of the news I hear on
  the radio… PUH-thetic.

  Now wait just a moment, you… erm, me.  Are you sure it’s any
  better to be out of touch, isolated from the pulse of the
  populace?  Yes, dammit, in some ways it is better.  For one
  thing, there wasn’t all this muscular tension in my jaws all the time
  when I didn’t know what was going on in the world.

  Yeah, there’s that.  Nothing’s perfect, I suppose.  Ya gotta take the bitter with the sweet.  SWEET!  Please don’t talk about sweet. 
  I’m trying to abstain here.  Okay, let’s try another cliche. 
  Every cloud has its thorns, every rose a silver lining.

  That’s more like it… wait!  Run that by me again.  I think maybe Mercury is retrograde.
  

  • 2:05 pm
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