working title.

or "return to the big screen", "post-partum woes", "beached icicles: beast tricycles"
:
"everybody hurts"

I went to my car tonight and was surprised not by the sight of it, but by what was inside. Gee wiz, it was a whole bunch of feelings!
Let me explain:

Today was one of those days that everyone has. It wasn't exactly "fuck the world." It was more of a day that turns into conflict and leaves you a little bit breathless. In my case, it meant a bit of sniffling as I took out my keys to my car with readiness to go home.
I shoved my things into the passengers seat and started her up. As soon as I did I was flooded by Q104.3's (self-proclaimed "classic rock" station) sweet melodies. I changed to power105 without registering what was on and then switched back in a powerplay that involved NOT hearing duffle-bag boy song. Truly, my subconscious was on high alert, as R.E.M's "everybody hurts" was at the crux of it's sweet gnashing. This is the way my life is. I laughed a little at the situation and then returned to my sniveling briefly. The song ended and another came on. Before I knew it I was cursing in traffic and salt stained on my dry cheekbones.
This is what happens. It's not a sign, it's just the way things are. (Insert bro statement if applicable).

The breaking point has been set high lately. I've been taking things in stride, trying to do my best, all of that inspirational shit.
It's just that when things go wrong the problems swell until the emotions are saturated. In dealing with people you have a connection with, it's often hard to be persistent with communications of unhappiness or displeasure. In my experience, whiners suck and are a helpless breed. Yes, I've got some things that I won't share with anyone, immediate family aside. I feel I shouldn't have to take on the worlds problems. One problem at a time towards the solution. Heath Ledger died dude. Amy Winehouse is hitting the crackpipe. The world is upset and I'm trying to find out the forecast for tomorrow.

But, in the event that I void myself of the truly pertinent material that does, indeed, fabricate the mysterious bridge of laced fingers or phone conversations over five minutes, I like to have a retainer and not a barrier. Bluntly: I can be blunt. Some call it a flaw, others don't even call me on it. I realize it. When emotions leak and the pipes burst and doves cry, I'm greeted [nameless] in a manner I would never think to inflict on anyone. Sometimes I have to remind or simply state that: I am not a robot. I may not show all of the inner brew ALL of the time. FINE. But then I was told,
have more spine.
That really ticks me off. Makes me tingle. Makes me cringe. Makes me turn from a "sad" tear to a tiny laugh of disbelief and disgust. Some people go to any lengths to justify their black holes and common noticeable flaws. Some even go to other "states" to realize that they can't escape the reality that claims itself in one's roots. You have to let people go and figure things out for themselves. They'll either quell that demon or wind up in the same spot and in a similar situation. Motivation. rah-rah!
It's not always about leaving or wishing to leave, or leaving your old self, OR leaving the world with the aid of socializing, booze, or crutches. We all do similar things with our ideals and notions of reality.
"This is MY club, this is MY party, MY life, the way I am."
Yeah. I can get down with that to an extent.
It's the growing up comedown. Not getting older, but shedding some skin, seeing documented metamorphisis. It's THE life. "I joined your/the party and it's been A ride". If we can't get into OUR reality, dig ourselves out of OUR joint problem or even YOUR problem and MY problem butting heads... the least we can do is recognize it and accept it. We can use it to help us in our reality and bring it into the party. [Growing up is hard to do. There are fantastic double-standards, but high living with someone else blowing wind in patchy sails leaves one in Bermuda Triangle territory. I realize I'm taking the example too far. Party boat. There I'm done].

I guess clearing out the damage isn't permanent medicine. It's our dose of reality in a generous measurement.
Chronic.les.