blah blah fishpaste

Looking back over my past couple of blog entries I think a mini-series of self-revelations has developed.

If I were 25 I would probably be blogging about the fact that I just realized I am fat. But not the kind of fat where you go on a diet and lose the fat and look great and then go on Noeleen and spite all your high school and varsity nemesi (that is plural - look it up). More the kind of fat that is always fat and can never quite be eradicated. Not that I truly believe fat should be eradicated because if not for that we would all be skin and bones and to be honest I think round cheeks with dimples (face or other) are very attractive. I am talking the kind of fat that comes from negative self-image. Yeah, you know what I'm talking about.

So maybe what I am saying has nothing to do with fat and everything to do with self-image, body image and self-esteem. Here's the thing - self-esteem is the bastard of all bastards. It is the working class fighting the bourgeois. It is a classic. We hate that which is way up there but secretly way up there is where we long to be. So how does one achieve that hanging out in just the right mental spot? If you are too high up then you are hated by the masses and by yourself. If you are too far down then you are hated by the masses and by yourself. Maybe just maybe if you can suspend yourself somewhere in the magical middle you can become unfat. I do not know.

But today's revelation has more to do with the idea that I never really say what I mean to say. In my mind I do but in reality I race around the edges so deftly carefully coloring only within the lines that I never really say anything that has to do with how I feel. Instead of saying what I think due to, in my opinion, that mid-20s revelation I first discount what I think. Second, I try to figure out what part if any of what I just discounted might be vaguely palatable to others. Third, I spend an undue amount of time watching TV shows about the edges of society that I am certain the less I say the better off I am.

If you are wondering what the hell I am talking about yet sense an atmosphere of hostility join the club. I'm not talking about anything but what I am thinking... and there is a lot to think about, but that’s another story.

Maybe what I’m trying to / want to say but feel I cant, or am not allowed or am just to scared to say because (insert pause of 8 minutes) I don’t understand
the concept of drawing lines?

I don’t know. I’m going to leave you all with this quote…

“We are friends and I do like to pass the day with you in serious and inconsequential chatter. I wouldn't mind washing up beside you, dusting beside you, reading the back half of the paper while you read the front. We are friends and I would miss you, do miss you, and think of you very often.”

~Jeanette Winterson~


p.s. If you actually looked up nemesi I am laughing at you. But secretly. Not to your face.