Narcissism and Therabra

I love answers. No, I am in love with answers. Okay, I am obsessed with them. My obsession with answers has led to many a long night and several unpleasant conversations with those who refuse to supply them. Mothers. Boyfriends. Teachers. Rabbis. Sadists. You name it – they have all pissed me off at one time or another for not giving me an answer. This insatiable need for answers fuels my passion for puzzles (provided there is an answer key), and is the source of the joy I feel when I fantasize about being a detective or a spy and talk into my shoe when no one’s looking. I also think this may be why I truly like to do research, family therapy, and math. Ah, math!! Can you say, “Algebra”? Algebra is the most beautiful math ever. Every problem is like a game that not only has one definite answer but one that can be double-checked! So, if you take the time to check an answer and you discover, as I usually do, that you are right, then hold on to your nasal lobes because you get to experience the discovery of the answer twice! Twice! That kind of joy doesn’t come along every day, you know (even an algebra instructor has weekends off). And we all know, if we think at all, that kind of certainty is not easy to come by. But with algebra, you actually know you found the right answer every time. As you can see, for me, finding answers like that is rather therapeutic in and of itself. In fact, I think we should give this scintillating process a name: Therabra.

With what you now know about me, you can imagine the intensity of my climax when, after five months of beating myself over the head with grief and just about to give up on sanity altogether, I had a synchronistic moment in this holographic universe that was nothing short of brilliant. Are you still with me? I have wracked my brain over what transpired with Stephen in Korea, trying to put the pieces together. Each time I made some headway, but I kept getting swept back up into the emotion of it all because, well, it just didn’t come together in a way that I felt able to accept. Lots of things just didn’t add up, and after five months of going over this with a fine-toothed object with fine teeth, all I had were scattered pieces of the puzzle and severely overused tear ducts. And why… couldn’t… I… just…let it go? Because -stay with me people -I need answers! [If you didn’t get the right answer to the question, then you need to go back and reread the first paragraph about– oh, uh – now.] For those of you who are up to speed, or on speed, picture this: I am feeling ever so down – weeping incessantly into my pillow, armpit, or random scraps of toilet paper and unused paper towels. I try to sleep, but I can’t. I don’t know what to do with myself. I can’t seem to wrap my brain around the relationship that officially ended nearly SIX FRIGGING MONTHS AGO. I am at the end of my rope. So, I go where I always go when I am depressed – good old B & N – and get myself a soy tea latte and head for the psychology section to figure out what the hell is wrong with me. There I am. Looking like Droopy Dog standing in front of the shelf, and I can barely focus well enough to even make out one of the titles of the hundreds of books in front of me. I am exhausted. Hopeless. I force myself to look up – because I have to at least pretend to be looking for a book -and, viola, there it is! One lone, single copy of a little paperback book that asks, “Why is it always about you?”

Now, you might think that I thought it was about me, but you’re wrong. While I am definitely guilty of narcissistic tendencies, this book was in my hand in seconds because that question was the one that I asked my ex-boyfriend, former title holder of "love of my life", repeatedly during our relationship. That’s why I grabbed it. I seriously only meant to give it the once over and move on, but I was immediately taken in by it. And hour later I found myself seated in a wooden chair, agape, my cold tea on the floor next to me, the book in my lap, and my eyes glazed over. Yes, it was an easy read, but more to the point, it was a mind-blowing read. It was as though someone had been there with me through the relationship from the beginning to the end. There were some things in there I had literally said or written to him and to others about him. All the questions I had about his behavior were all answered in this book. Yes, it felt good to know that I was not alone and that I was not crazy and that other people had suffered the same kind of confusion, heartache, and grief that I did by giving their heart to someone grossly narcissistic. But more importantly, every singe question that had once kept me up at night now had an answer. Case closed. By the time I finished the book, I could cry no more. I felt this strange calm come over me and all the emotional distress dissipate Praise Jesus, Mohammed, Moses, Dean Martin, and whomever Mormons dig!! I had been given my answers. It all fit together perfectly.

Am I saying that he is incurable? I don’t know. That’s up to him. Maybe he’s just growing up and it’s a natural part of his adolescence. I don’t know. But I do know that it was very painful to be in love with him and to be betrayed by him, especially when he doesn’t get it – and never did. But I do. Especially now. And do I think that something greater than my conscious self led me to that spot to see that one book at that particular time? Absolutely. And do I still love him? Completely. But does it hurt anymore? Not at all. And would I allow myself to fall in love with him ever again? Never. More importantly, have I figured out why I had to go through it at all? I think so. After all, I have my own narcissistic tendencies. Ah, but it’s probably nothing that a little Therabra can’t fix.

But truly, the best part of finding this book was that I now feel forgiveness. At least, I think it’s forgiveness. But, what is forgiveness? If it isn’t excusing someone, then what is it? Is it about not taking things personally so that you can detach from it emotionally? Because that’s what happened here. I mean, how can I take anything that happened personally when it was never about me to begin with? Well, whatever it is, it feels good. It feels good to be able to love someone without carrying anger in my heart any more. So whatever F-word that is, I’ll take it.

BTW-Doggy Diapers and Solar Powered Christmas Lights -the next big things to hit your local Shopping Channel! You heard it here first.

Love and Light.

Ima B. Yootifull

Re: Librans

Heather can stay (and not just because she is the only one who reads my blog)...but because she is a darn nice person, damn it!

Ima D. Sturbed

Same-Sign Dating (for Librans Only)

While reading a lecture about the paradox of choice and thinking about how too much variety actually leaves many of us feeling anxious both during and after the choice-making process, it made me realize that you should never date a Libra. They will always wonder if they made the right choice, so unless you have a really strong sense of your own self-worth and don't really give a crap what your partner thinks, you're going to be left feeling tres unappreciated for all your wonderfulness. And that's bad. Therefore, my solution is to only allow Librans to date other Librans. It's only fair - to the rest of us. In fact, to ensure that the new system be kept into place, I think we should move all Librans to an island somewhere and make them live separately from the rest of society. They're annoying anyways. Now, if you're a Libra and you're wondering if I am including you in this, just ask yourself, "Did I get a present for my birthday? Did I even get a card?" See, if I know you're a Libra, then I know that I most certainly did NOT give you a present because I find nothing celebratory about your existence. Now, you might think that's a little harsh, but that's what prejudice is, now isn't it? Librans go home!!

I was also thinking about how much I hate making choices...so much so that by the time I actually decide to make one, I don't have any more options left. Like now. I am at an all-time low, people. My money magnet is malfunctioning and, by 2008, the prediction is that the Lending Tree will need to find me a hefty personal loan to get me through the bleak winter days ahead. I have an interest-free credit card to get me through the current bleak winter days, but I have to start planning for the future now. It isn't being broke that makes this an all-time low; I mean, I have been in debt since two masters degrees ago. I think, however, that I may have to move in with my mother. That's right. Move back home and have my maternal creator help me out. This is bad for my self-esteem, people. Very, very bad. Now, I would have asked a friend for the money, but then I realized that all my friends are just as broke as I am and so it made me realize that I am definitely hanging out with the wrong people. I hate to say this, but you're all going to have to go now. I need wealthier friends. Pleeeease don't take it personally, it's just that like attracts like in these kinds of situations. So, unless one of you is going to strike it rich sometime in the very near future, I think we need to say our good-byes, choose our memories wisely, and then scatter like roaches caught by a beam of light at night. And hey, I promise that when I get my magnet working properly, I'll come back for you. I really will. I love you. [That last comment was not intended for Librans.]

You know, I was also reading a lecture about how plants attract friendly insects to protect them from harmful plant-eating insects. Okay, look, I read a lot of lectures because that's part of my job, okay? Anyhow, the lecturer was saying how grapevines, when being attacked by spider mites, emit a chemical compound that attracts ladybugs who come and eat the mites thereby protecting the plant. The lecturer was saying how great this was, in effect, because it's such a mutually beneficial system for plants and insects. My question is this, "How do you think the spider mites feel about this little system of theirs?" I bet they don't find it mutually beneficial. See, people? I am not the only one that's prejudiced. Spider mites deserve to eat, too!
[I think that's a bumper sticker waiting to happen.] Ah, maybe it's just Karma. The spider mites were probably born in late September or early October.

Do you know what's odd? I have become terrified. Something happened to me in Korea that I had never experienced before -a feeling of being alone that was unbearable. Never before in my life had I experienced that depth of loneliness. I felt completely disconnected to who and what was around me. It was like being dead. Can you be a functional dead person? You know, like a functional alcoholic? I mean, I know that I was sick. I have never been sicker in my life. And I know it was Asia. And I know that I was surrounded by Libras. And I know that I had jobs that were unhealthy. But even now, Libra-free, back in the familiar Western world, working in my Pj's from home, and gradually regaining my health, I am butt terrified. Shaking most days, in fact. All the trust I had in myself and in others has truly been put to the test. And, to be honest with you, I don't know if I am going to pass.

Oh a happier note: laaaaaaaaaaa!!!

Talk to you later,

Ima D. Pu

I'm Getting Published - Are You?

Just a note to let you all know that I am making some progress in my life. In fact, I now have five songs on the market and I just got word that I am getting a short nonfictional piece published online with Common Ties on December 3rd. It is entitled, "Doors, Windows, Fathers". They named it - not me. So, if you have a problem with that - you can tell them about it. Me? I am just taking the money...and the glory. Not bad for the first and only thing I ever submitted for publication. Then again, I have my perverted step-father to thank for the material, so...thank you.

It gets me to thinking, too. I mean, I have had such a traumatic childhood/life that I have a ton of stories I could tell - or better yet - write about. I could cash in on all this heartache once and for all! Besides, I have promised myself to only write happy songs from now on, so I will totally need a new outlet for all my self-pity!

Damn Skippy! I am going to jump right on it.

Ima N. Fant

Ar-kansas and Costa Reecker

If you've read any prior blog entries, then you know that "I am a money magnet!" right? Well, someone needs to tell that to the fine State of Arkansas! And you might tell it to the other university I applied to, too - (apparently they never got my resume).

Now, in AR-KANSAS, these fine people know a gem (or sucker) when they see one. In fact, they were so impressed with my resume and experience as a teacher that they called me right up and started quizzing me on grammar (at 9 am EST). I passed the test by the way (although I was tempted to turn on the computer and Google a few of them just to make sure). Apparently, not everyone does pass this test, so they were tres impressed. So impressed, in fact, that they wanted to fly me out there next week for a potluck. It seemed like I was i-t-it there for a minute and then it happened. The mention of a (cough, cough, removal of phlegm) "salary", which they referred to as "lean". Now, I am all for lean, but not when it comes to my salary! These people tried to convince me that, although the salary is quite low, I mean, "lean", for a twelve-month, full-time position at a university, that it is, indeed, possible to live on it. Really? I suppose I could live on $28,000 dollars a year, before taxes, if I put it under my house, but why should I have to? If I had a two-year degree I would make more money than that. I know this because most people around me have two-year degrees and they make more money than that. I could see it if I were starting out in the field, as well, but I ain't! I have paid my dues and I have a ton o' skills to offer - all of which they need! Sadly enough, I had to decline. First of all, I can't live on that and, second of all, it undervalues what I do. Now you may wonder why I even bothered applying for the position in Arkansas, especially when Kansas isn't that far away, and so they should know by now how to pronounce it, but the area seems nice and the program is pretty dynamic, so...? Who knew? But, I do have to say, generally speaking, if employers don't post a salary on a job site, then you probably aren't getting one.

Speaking of spelling and two-year degrees, I should tell you that I stopped to get gas the other day and the manager of the station had put signs up on all the gas tanks that read: "Please knowt your pump number before you come into the store to pay. " What's funny is that I am not sure if they just accidentally put a "t" on the printouts or they meant to write "note". What do you think? In either case, they're wrong. Or from Arkansaw.

With waning funds and an upcoming trip to Mexico, I am getting a little nervous. I am starting to consider buying a two-room house on an acre of land in Costa Rica for less then $5,000 dollars. I could move my butt down there and teach English, play music, date pot-smoking hippies and alcoholics, work on my Spanish, and eat fruit from my fruit trees. The land actually borders an agricultural preserve filled with waterfalls and swimming holes AND it's 15 miles from the ocean. I am getting mighty tempted. The bank might get upset because they won't be getting anymore money out of me - EVER - but, I am sure that I have paid off most of what I borrowed originally - the other $40, 000 is mostly interest. And it's interesting that they call it interest because it's really of no interest to me whatsoever. I could care less about it. I am trying to get the land for Christmas. And if I do - see ya'!

Please don't take any of my quick departure fantasies personally - it's just that I don't like you enough to stay.

But really, I am trying to put down some roots; it's just that it's one step forward and two steps back with my health still. I am grateful for where I am today compared to where I was four months ago, but it's still a struggle. It's one organ at a time and people are still playing around with medications - natural and not so natural - to get me to a point where I can stand on my own two feet again. DING DONG (thought coming in). Ohhhh, so that's why they say the 40s are the new 20s!! Because at forty, you can still find yourself single, getting offered shit salaries, living without health insurance, and unable to live on your own. I get it now. So, it's not just me, right? Right? You aren't answering me. Right? Where are you going? Hey, come back here.

Whatever.

I leave you now to dream a little dream about mango trees and tasty weed.

Ima P. Ode