Can of Whoop Ass

Wednesday, November 24, 2010
11:25AM

I told a friend this morning to open up a can of whoop ass. I was encouraged last night to keep kicking "its" ass. And, as most people who know me intimately can tell you, that is pretty much my approach to life-- an attempt to kick ass. There is no calm or natural flow to my life. I perceive this to be because I am too many things at once and therefore pulled in multiple directions. Some would call that confusion, being lost, but I know who I am... and it's just too many things. Well, I like that person, crazy and mixed up though she is. She's hard to deal with, even for me, but in those moments I feel detached from myself, I know "she" is trying. And that's about all we can do. And I don't expect life to ever feel easy or flowing for any of us. I will never stay miserable for too long. If it's gets to be too much, I will just stop being miserable. But I think that just because you feel miserable is no reason that you can't get up, slap yourself a few times across the puffy tired face, put a little coffee in your belly, and get on with it for the sake of someone else. I'm here to love. I don't know why else I'm here. Everything I've ever done has been so scattered, and I don't mind. My path isn't linear or even curving. It's multidimensional, and I'm not going to try too hard to iron it out, because I know it won't be ironed. All I can do is accept my own existence, not worry about that personal existence too much, and open up a can of whoop ass, or at least a can of Folgers in the morning. Too much love for too many to do anything but.

Got up early today, felt quite rough. Rough night last night which left my eyes swollen and by body dehydrated and sore this morning. I wanted to go back to bed. But I'd made a promise. I'll be there by 9:30. I woke Carly up, demanded just a little forcefully that she get with it with me, and we went to Convenient. I bought bacon, eggs, chocolate donuts, and orange juice. We went to our grandparents', and I proceeded to make breakfast. Carly set the table for four. I knew Mam-maw might as well not have a place, but it's too soon to acknowledge that visibly. While Pap-paw, Carly, and I ate, I could see Mam-maw in the other room, on the brink of meltdown, with the home-visit nurse. She's lost weight, and she now wears a call button necklace in case she falls while she's alone or something like that. The nurse insisted that Mam-maw eat something. She had about an eighth of a slice of bacon and half a slice of toast, maybe two sips of her orange juice. She dipped the toast in the egg yolk, which at least to me was encouraging as it suggested some preference, some desire at least for something to taste a certain way. Then she asked me what happened to the yellow part, and that wore me out. I'm not the best at eggs over easy, and I gave her what was perceivably the best egg. I tried. :( Then she started talking about something with the doctors and what not, Pap-paw didn't know what she was talking about so she started bawling and saying how he didn't believe her and thought she was crazy. She's lost her hearing aid. More cause for panic, tearing the trailer apart, and feeling crazy. It was not a good morning. It was not a perfect morning, but I did what I could with it. WE did what WE could with it.

Anyway, I ought to go get some work done. These papers are seriously stressing me out. The thing is... I'm ambivalent as fuck about even getting them done, about even being school. For the grades I've made throughout, no one would guess I felt that way all through undergraduate. I didn't necessarily want to do well. I didn't have a motivation for success. I just didn't want to suck. I didn't want to turn in what I thought was garbage. Self-degradation can be a really strong motivator when applied appropriately.