pushing it
you can’t push water uphill. you can’t continue to ask the same question and expect a different answer. why do humans do this?
it all comes down to ego, i suppose. you want what you want, and you want it in a certain way. but even when it’s pretty obvious that you can’t have both (what you want and how you want it) you still hold out hope that if you keep asking the question, maybe if you phrase it differently, you’ll get the answer you are hoping for. i guess if that’s the case you are pretty … human.
my stepfather was telling me an anecdote about crossing the border, and what it’s like being a veteran doing that: the border guards just seem to give you a wide berth, given the fact that you’ve served your country and you deserve a break, regardless of how much booze or cigarettes or bric a brac you’re transporting. it occurs to me that this is the opposite of my current dilemma: he is fully expecting the hammer to come down, bracing for impact, and then getting a pass.
that never happens in my world. but i always expect it to, see? i feel like i’m pretty much the same every day, going about it, wanting the same things, taking steps to achieve them. and then the gauntlet comes down: BAM! take note — this never stops me from getting back up and trying again, hoping for the best possible outcome. i’m brand new every day, willing to wipe the slate clean and try again.
take my marriage, for example. we have a lot in common. we’re both musicians, we both live in the same house. we like to have fun, we like to feel appreciated. and every day, we both hope for the best. i for one, try to make things happen however i can. my way is a quiet one, i don’t talk a lot about what i’m going to do, i just go ahead and do it. that way there’s a whole lot less to be disappointed about if it all snaps back on me, like a big rubber band. i don’t like to dwell on my disappointments, and i don’t like to celebrate the triumphs either, ‘cause you know it could all be gone in a snap. what’s the point in chewing air about all the good things that are going to come out of (insert random shit here) or all the bad that (random negative shit) is going to do. is that passive-aggressive? fuck me if it is. but here’s the thing — i take that (random shit) and file it until it’s useful information. i feel like talking about something that is pending will dissapate its energy. this is not superstition, it’s not like ‘it’s bad luck to talk about something before you’ve got your boarding pass’ which i get, but that’s not it at all. it’s just me, and a feeling like i have it under control, whatever the fuck that random shit is.
my partner, on the other hand, likes to talk about everything, but it’s not even talking, it’s anxiety about those things, and what about this and what about that, and how everything’s going to hell … and i ask myself on a daily basis — how can he live like that? even though i ask, i know, and i’ll tell you how: he’s taking every negative thought about everything he does and giving it air. he’s hanging out his dirty laundry so there’s nothing that we don’t know about his thought process, his agony, his angst, his anger. in the end, his feelings are identifiable and therefore have substance enough to either be or not be. however, he’s the same as me in the sense that he keeps pushing for the outcome he wants or expects, no matter what the end result, no matter if it ends up the same every single time.
so i suppose we’re both doomed. right? how can we come together on this? living in close quarters requires some give and take. we understand each others’ needs but it’s not always possible to indulge ourselves without the others’ consent. his practice time, my practice time. my practice time against his TV time. my work and office time against his practice time. when to start, when to stop, when to take a break and eat, when to please vacate the house, go do something somewhere else … i feel like it shouldn’t be necessary to draw up a schedule, but that’s because i feel that he ought to know what i need. after all, he’s my husband/best friend/partner. right? yeah. well in reality, he doesn’t know what i need, because (please refer to paragraph E) i suppose it’s not so obvious.
now it’s my problem, and it’s my responsibility to clear the air and sort these things out. because it’s not going to take care of itself. all the anger for what is perceived as crossing the invisible line of each others’ sanity or sanctity is wasted on each other, because neither of us will agree to acknowledge the real needs that exist in our complex but rather elegant union … basic human needs for love and respect. and absolution. above all, we both need to know that even when we’ve failed each other, we’ve got permission to start again. innocence and naivety are the afflictions we both possess — by proxy — as creative people: if the intention is clear, with determination, we will succeed.
