Frank The Rabbit

Mmmm, so Tuesday is shaping up to be a better day. Turns out copious amounts of sleep and chocolate really do have health promoting qualities…too bad I can’t figure out how stay on task with copious amounts of exercise and loving myself right? Oh well, I’ll take when I can get for today. I am still dragging ass though, my whole body feels like it’s under water. Why does this stuff pull my down so deeply physically as well? My energy just goes right down the toilet and my only aspirations involved being snuggled up in my bed, reading and snuggling my cats or eating. Total double whammy. The funk isn’t gone, but it’s tolerable today. I can function at least. As much as I’d resisted posting all my negativity outwardly, I did feel better afterward so perhaps I should let go a little and document where I’m at regardless of my fears. Being fearless is a skill I’m still honing:) Maybe I’ll work on that one in therapy too.

Today I was at Barnes & Nobles (sorry Aunty, they didn’t have the book you recommended but I found another deliciously spicy one I think) and I could very literally feel the clerk judging my choices as I was checking out. I read the classics. I read empowering books about women. I read books by authors who hardly have to work at being fabulous and authors working way too hard to be fabulous. I read short stories, novels and everything in between. I read non-fiction about quantum physics and Buddhism and Taoism and Paganism and books that are really hard for me to wrap my head around but I read them anyway because I enjoy the challenge. I enjoy the books that make me slow it down and contemplate. I read biographical books about those who have formed our societies, one way or the other. I also read books about dead musicians and artists who committed suicide and drug addicts and sex workers and people who have lived lives to depths I will probably never understand, but can possibly relate to based on my own experiences of brushing up against some of those depths.

I have watched from the side-lines (i.e…my fearlessness hidden away for another day) and then switched gears and jumped into life head first without even blinking. I can go from the “I don’t try anything, I just do it!” mentality to the “over-think it, process it until it’s a little nub of annoyance in the back of my day to day” mentality in moments. Sometimes I feel like a wide eyed bunny, happily content to hop along and live life without questioning anything who suddenly bumps into Frank The Rabbit from “Donnie Darko” and follows him down the Tangent Universe rabbit hole. I know I am not alone. I know that most, if not all of us, are questioning our purpose, experiencing the plague of self-doubt and then the reward of self-discovery. We are all grappling with our pasts, wondering about our futures and trying desperately to make sense of our current existence. I also think we are all just trying to do the best we can, be the best people we can and not everyone succeeds. Not everyone succeeds at life period. And to me, all art forms reflect this struggle of the human condition.

That’s why I read books about situations and people that might make the clerk who checked me out uncomfortable. These stories of those who have overcome adversities, of those who have experienced such trial and tribulation and came out of it all the wiser and are willing to share that wisdom with others…they give me hope. I think it’s honorable and I admire them for having the balls to share things we don’t tell our best friends or mothers. I think it’s brave for authors to explore subjects that force us to consider things we might not otherwise even ever think to. Some of you who know may question why I would subject myself to yet more stories of hardships because let’s face it kids, I’ve surely seen enough of my own and been close to a number of painful situations with those that I love. I’ve cried enough to tears to fill an Olympic swimming pool. Admittedly, there have been some books I have put down simply because it was just too painful or caused some spark of post traumatic stress. But that becomes rarer as my skin gets thicker and life experiences teach me how unfair and sometimes unpractical our time on earth is, except it always ends up teaching us something incredible one way or another. I’d also like to think I’m not such a damaged drama-monger that I don’t read these books to revel in the pain of others. I refuse to believe that - even if I get a little jolt out of the shock value of some of these stories because my nature is extreme so it takes A LOT to shock me – my self assessment is that I pick out books that call to me, no matter the subject or content.

I think next time I am hitting Barnes & Nobles, I might just dress in my most professional attire, with my hair and make up perfect, nails done and looking fabulous and go buy a book on demon worshipping child care workers who run a brothel out of their child care center on the weekends. And make SURE I find this same clerk. THAT would be a really good time.

:)