the existential crisis is upon us
Hi Mike,
it's so nice to have you here in San Francisco. it makes me wish you lived here all the time. I think you've asked me twelve times in the last two days if I'm okay. you seem always to ask just when my mind wanders into oblivion. I suppose that's what friends do: they notice.
the easy answer to your question is: yes, I am okay. I recently had a ct scan because I was having sudden migraines for the first time in my life and found out that my brain is hemmorage and strange-growth free! my job and my hobbies all matter to me. my family and I are on speaking terms. my boyfriend is kind and good to me. my friends are innumerable and the band is riding the bliss of our first 10,000 myspace hits.
the more complicated answer is probably more accurate.
our country is at war and everyday I wake up aware that people are being raped and murdered somewhere in the world and I can't do a goddamned thing about it. and when I see that bumpersticker that says "honk if you hate god" I want to honk so hard my hand breaks through the vinyl steering wheel fabric. but I don't hate god. I just hate what people do in god's name. I feel hopeless and scared. I find it difficult to keep my mind focused on anything. my heart aches sometimes so palpably that I wonder if I'm having anxiety attacks.
is it possible to be TOO empathetic? is that maybe one of the vestiges of a catholic childhood? to imagine other peoples' pain so intensely that I begin to take it on and feel as though the horror is being inflicted upon me. it would give me hope if I thought that my taking it on meant that it was lifted off someone else. but it isn't. and intellectually I know that the best thing I can do is hold firm emotional boundaries so that I am strong enough to keep my voice raised in opposition. but I am not strong Mike. I am just not strong enough.
it feels like the edges of meaning are folding in on themselves. all of this (life, the universe, and everything) has GOT to mean something. it has just GOT to. and yet . . . how could it possibly mean anything? meaning is inconstant.
I need wisdom. my friend urged me, kindly, to "focus on ONE THING AT A TIME . . . something small . . . but whatever you do, forget about the big picture completely. (and) travel . . . it doesn't even have to be very far . . . just turn down the wrong street and go to the end and sit there and wait . . ."
so I'm going to get out of here soon and go to the ocean and look for a single grain of sand that matches the color of my lover's eyes.
see you later tonight,
anne.
maybe that's what I ought to do.
it's so nice to have you here in San Francisco. it makes me wish you lived here all the time. I think you've asked me twelve times in the last two days if I'm okay. you seem always to ask just when my mind wanders into oblivion. I suppose that's what friends do: they notice.
the easy answer to your question is: yes, I am okay. I recently had a ct scan because I was having sudden migraines for the first time in my life and found out that my brain is hemmorage and strange-growth free! my job and my hobbies all matter to me. my family and I are on speaking terms. my boyfriend is kind and good to me. my friends are innumerable and the band is riding the bliss of our first 10,000 myspace hits.
the more complicated answer is probably more accurate.
our country is at war and everyday I wake up aware that people are being raped and murdered somewhere in the world and I can't do a goddamned thing about it. and when I see that bumpersticker that says "honk if you hate god" I want to honk so hard my hand breaks through the vinyl steering wheel fabric. but I don't hate god. I just hate what people do in god's name. I feel hopeless and scared. I find it difficult to keep my mind focused on anything. my heart aches sometimes so palpably that I wonder if I'm having anxiety attacks.
is it possible to be TOO empathetic? is that maybe one of the vestiges of a catholic childhood? to imagine other peoples' pain so intensely that I begin to take it on and feel as though the horror is being inflicted upon me. it would give me hope if I thought that my taking it on meant that it was lifted off someone else. but it isn't. and intellectually I know that the best thing I can do is hold firm emotional boundaries so that I am strong enough to keep my voice raised in opposition. but I am not strong Mike. I am just not strong enough.
it feels like the edges of meaning are folding in on themselves. all of this (life, the universe, and everything) has GOT to mean something. it has just GOT to. and yet . . . how could it possibly mean anything? meaning is inconstant.
I need wisdom. my friend urged me, kindly, to "focus on ONE THING AT A TIME . . . something small . . . but whatever you do, forget about the big picture completely. (and) travel . . . it doesn't even have to be very far . . . just turn down the wrong street and go to the end and sit there and wait . . ."
so I'm going to get out of here soon and go to the ocean and look for a single grain of sand that matches the color of my lover's eyes.
see you later tonight,
anne.
maybe that's what I ought to do.
posted by Anne of San Fran at 2:14 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home