Lightning Crashes… Or Something

There is a world of difference between saying what needs to be said and saying what you want to say. Words get taken the wrong way and intentions are often lost in the mix.
Hi, I’m Steff. I’m a compulsive foot-in-mouthist, and thinking before speaking is a lifelong fantasy I’ve yet to make true.
And you know what? Honestly, I just hope I keep on failing.
It’s so goddamned much fun when I get to actually say what I think. I do curtail it day to day, but not as much as you might think. I’m not one of these secret-other-self type bloggers who has a total alter ego they only bring out to play on a CPU. I don’t have to hit the bong or scarf a tab or guzzle a 2-4 in order to tap into that inner self. I just have to bite my fucking tongue sometimes so I can yield to convention. But, trust me, most people I know have known me to say incredibly crass things sometimes, and I’ve no qualms about playing a fool.
If there’s anything I miss about my old job, it’s that they’d long ago labelled me as “flippant” and knew me to be an absolute yutz at times, and, in fact, they embraced those moments of utter irrelevance. I miss that, and I miss the fact that I’m not feeling as comfortable being myself as I once was. I chalk it up to the oddities of the recent past: the lack of sex drive, the in-orbit levels of estrogen, the sub-terranean depths of depression, and all that shit. But I feel it coming back to me now. I’m waiting, like a lover in the night, I’m waiting for my own arrival, naked yet comfortable.
And that’s the thing, man. Being yourself. It ain’t just about saying what you’re thinking, it’s about feeling comfortable in your own skin and knowing, without a doubt, that the things you’re doing and thinking are all about who you are. It’s far easier said than done, and far harder to actualize than any of those fucking self-help gurus would have you believe.
Why’s that? Well, ‘cos we live in a shrink-wrapped society that thinks image is everything. Hell, it’s apologies-on-demand in our day and age. (I wrote a little ranty thing about just that on the other bloggie-poo of mine earlier today.)
Y’know, there’s two ways I write best: One, with music driving the cadence of everything I tap out, and two, like I am now, seated in unnatural (to you) silence — my little hearing aids turned off, or not even inserted in my ears. I find that if, one way or the other, I drown out the world, that all that’s left is the rat-tatty-tat of my heart and my fingers on the keyboard. Gone is the judgment, the cynicism, the self-doubt, the angst, the bafflement, the groan’n’drone of the world beyond my far too thin windowpanes. I can give in to autolatry and isolation, and, for once, being myself is just a little easier.
I have the misfortune of working at a company with nice people, but with extreme political aspects to them. And with politics comes correctness, and with correctness comes a realization that I might not ever fit in as I’d like to. But, then, I haven’t been there long, and it took me more than a year to gain the unequivocal fondness of my last employers. (But I was in a bad, bad place when I started that job — borderline alcoholic and drug addict, really.) I suspect I’ll beat the living shit out of that time-lapse this time around, but OHMIGOD does it feel like forever.
And I’ve been thinking about this for a little bit today, how weird it all is when we lose touch with ourselves. It’s like trying to dial up a friend and stoke an old relationship. It ain’t gonna be all love’n’kisses as soon as that cup’o’joe settles on the table between you, you know. Takes a little massagin’ of egos and checking in and tuning up and all, don’t you find? Yet we think that because we’re all of a sudden aware of the distance between who we are and who we’re being that there’s some kinda mental Band-aid we can slap on that gaping psychic wound and suddenly be our uber-ally self all over again. Not gonna fuckin’ happen, sweetcheeks — try though you might.
So, that’s where I am. I know who I am but I know who I’m seeming to be, and who I’m seeming to be’s just gotten her eviction notice and I want her ass on outta here, but I know there’s a holding period before that’s gonna happen. Meanwhile, just call me Marcellus Wallace, ‘cos I’m about due to get medieval on that waste-ass tenant if she ain’ packin’ in a friggin’ hurry, baby.
I’m trying to remember when in the hell it all shifted for me. When was it I lost touch with all the little bitty bits o’ Steff that make me grin when I’m alone? At some point during my recently RIP’d relationship, to be sure, and no, I’m not about to blame the ex for causing me to go AWOL. Sure as shit weren’t his fault, not one iota. He liked the chick I am, not the chick I became, and that’s fact that I don’t doubt. The problem was never him, the problem was that I, like most chicks have a tendency to do, managed to fall into that trap of being what I thought was the right thing to be in a relationship, and somehow, that coupled with the estrogen depression and the prevalence of strife and upheaval in my oh-so-tumultuous little dramatic life somehow sent this kick-ass, fun to be with, always witty, always snappy chick somewhere way the hell out into the stratosphere.
And, dude, it sucked!
There’s nothing (NOTHING!!!) worse than waking up with the side of you that you just don’t like. There’s nothing (NOTHING!!!) cooler than waking up with a grin on your face ‘cos nothing turns you on better than liking who you are at 6:53 am, all right?
And you don’t get to be that person if all you’re ever doing is kow-towing to convention and appeasing all the little perfect (read: no fun, dry, unenviable) people around you. You get to be that person when you say things that catch yourself and others off-guard and you bring a grin to their face. You get to be that person when that gleam in your eye sparkles and you find yourself walking down the street with an unwarranted grin.
Ah, well, I don’t know why I’m writing this, and I don’t give a fuck about it, either. I just felt like it. That’s reason enough, no? I wish like nothing else I had Live’s Lightning Crashes somewhere on this harddrive, but no. I do not. If you read this in the next couple of hours, (say, before 2am PST) perhaps you could email me the song and I can rock-the-fuck-out before work in the morning. Not that I’m condoning piracy. Okay, fuck it. I’m condoning piracy. Sign me up, matey, and watch me rock and roll on the pitch of those waves.

7 thoughts on “Lightning Crashes… Or Something

  1. ATL LG


    OK.. being first it good for me here. I have a parallel with some of what you have said. I left one the best job (friends/people wise) I’ve ever had. But I had to (really) for my family. I miss it. But there is more to life than a 7-4 or 9-5 semi-party. There is long term. But I was MUCH more my outgoing self there. It was embraced and enjoyed. Shared and encouraged. Here I pretty much just do my job. I have been VERY well recv’d and rewarded (only one with an office at my level). But my life has changed my family and S/O constant make me feel and tell me I need medication and consuling. I have started blogging to see if I can offset that way. I have so much energy (and I’m non-caffinated!). So I feel your pain in many ways. And I hope you figure it out.

    Oh and LIVE rocks… I know it’s after 2am but lets see if you have the entire album Throwing Copper…I ALONE.. just sit close your eye and listen

    OK that was deeper than I had in my head to start…..

  2. ATL LG

    Ok..I’m going to start using Word to do my comments so I have the spelling and grammer of a first grader

  3. Spicy Little Pi

    i feel ya on the working with nice ppl but having to be correct for/around them.

    i work with stuffy bankers. if i let the whole pi out of the box, my ass would be out for a number of things, including sexual harassment…

    i also have to dress WAY more conservative than i prefer…which makes it easier to supress the real me, since i’m not comfy in most of what i wear to work…

    i’ve been able to let a litte more out here n there, but it’s been a year and a half and i’m still being a very toned-down version of myself…

    tho there aren’t many people that can really handle the whole pi!

    that contest is’re giving pi great ideas πŸ˜‰

  4. Dark Horse

    Have you been in my head today?

    Getting myself back is something that sems to come for me after periods of great upheaval. It’s like I finally realise there’s nothing left to lose, so I’d better wake the fuck and *live*.

    And then slowly, my life gets boring and the better version of me slips away again. I don’t know why, I never notice her go, until one day I realise I haven’t smiled in a week.

    I’m on my way to getting back on track right now too, and I think this time I want to stay there :o)

  5. roscoe

    Don’t know how many years I looked in the mirror and didn’t recognize the person looking back at me in the mornings…

    I fell into the whole $$$ and career dream without realizing it and it took having someone important to me walking out to realize the only thing that matters is waking up and seeing yourself in all of your morning glory every day…

    Everything else is just bullshit that someone is trying to sell you…

    Not that there is anything wrong with wanting the new BMW or 20,000 sq foot house or just something as simple as a bottle of wine at sunset…

    Just don’t lose yourself to get what you want…

    It’s not worth it, trust me πŸ™‚

    It always makes me smile when someone finds themselves again!

  6. scribe called steff

    I’m gonna do this backwards ‘cos I’m lazee.

    Roscoe — Yeah, I ain’t gonna sell my soul and lose myself in the process. I know what I want, have an idea how to get it, but actualizing shit’s easier said than done, and keeping track of who you are in the process is what I define as the modern dream. How do you keep the ability to wear jeans, slack off, be yourself, not mind your p’s and q’s and still have the house, the car, the trappings, and the high life? Fucked if I know.

    DH — Yeah, I’ve taken over the lease on your mind. My next plan is to put up some walls and a coat of paint. I don’t think we ever stay on track. I think life gives us detours and we have to find our way home afterwards.

    Pi — Some great ideas, huh? Do tell! Bankers are so lame. Except you, of course. Ha. Actually, GayBoy schtupps a banker and he’s a pretty cool guy.

    ATL — Yeah, that was a doozy… first thing I read when waking up. I had to go get a glass of wah-wah and make sure I wasn’t hallucinating. Snicker. πŸ˜‰

    Compromises are a bitch, that’s for sure.

  7. Ethan

    G’day, I just found your blog and have been slowly sifting through it’s glorious content. Impressive. When does the contest close?

    – Ethan (too lazy to login)

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