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Dangerous Compassions

the lady hiding in my pants

I woke up and Ming wasn’t beside me.  I got up and found him in the living room, lying on the couch, wrapped up in a soft blanket, fast asleep.  The blanket was around his head, and his feet were exposed and bare.

“Hey, honey.  Why are you out here?” I asked.

“I gotta go to school,” he said, his eyes still closed.

“School’s out,” I said.  “Come to bed.”

Later we talked about how he had slept through school, so it made sense he was going to school in his sleep.

I’m uncomfortable and fed up with everything.  So hungry and annoyed.  I want lots of hugs but feel unlovabley ornery.  There’s not enough chocolate in the world.  I give up.

There’s a bakery in Arroyo Grande that makes lemon meringue pie Mom likes, but she’s quit sugar.

I bought a day-old sun cookie wrapped in plastic wrap.  It was ok.  More pretty than delicious.

why I’m fed up

1.  people are extremely irresponsible, and it affects others, including me

2.  I’m really hungry all the time, lately, but being fat is so hard because of judgments, assumptions, small seats in theaters and air planes, twig chairs, doctors blaming every ailment on my fatness regardless of causation and not actually helping me, picnic tables I can’t fit in because they’re designed for thin people, small bathrooms, seat belts can be too small, it’s hard to find pretty clothes

3.  I might be understood one-on-one, but there’s no chance of me being understood in a group

4.  I can’t trust my perceptions, reactions, feelings because I feel totally out of whack

5.  how do you spell whack?  it has an h in it, huh.  thanks a lot, h

6.  my dreams are always haunting me with little dream bits flashing into my mind all day confusingly

7.  I remember things I should have forgotten 15 years ago and have feelings about all of it that are no longer pertinent or useful

8.  being mean to myself despite years of effort to the contrary

9.  asking Ming to validate me and it doesn’t help

10.  ancient condiments in the fridge that probably should not be there, but I feel unauthorized to throw them away

11.  I want to go to a bookstore and see something interesting, but I know I’ll probably want to buy something, but I really don’t need anything and have negative money, so it seems best to avoid the whole situation

12.  researching health things on the internet scares me

13.  uncertainty scares me

14.  the future scares me

15.  my choices seem erratic and almost arbitrary in a painful way

16.  facebook has interesting ideas and really horrible bullshit all mixed together

17.  everything in life is all mixed together, good and bad, and I need it not to be so confusing

18.  I need the guidance of my values in order to have meaning in my life, but can’t follow through with everything I believe right now

19.  being positive without being in denial

20.  I can’t find balance and instead go back and forth between extremes–all freakin’ day

Well, I could go on.  I figure twenty is enough.

Also in the news, I didn’t have scrap paper so wrote the name of a printer and some code on a banana peel.

Funny things happen, but I can’t remember anything.

“There’s a lady hiding in your pants,” Mom said.  I was wearing my flower camo pants.  “There’s her face, and there’s her eye.  Her body is hidden in these flowers.”

“Who is she hiding from?” I asked.  I felt for a second like my pants were a secret psychology thing.  Flower camo pants therapy.

“The devil,” Mom said.

“Oh!” I said.

“Maybe she’s hiding from her husband,” she added.

“Maybe she’s hiding from God,” I said.  “Maybe she’s Eve and just ate the forbidden fruit.”

“Maybe,” Mom said. 

The lady hiding in my pants is probably me.  Maybe she’s my ancestor.  Something in my jeans.

By Laura-Marie

Good at listening to the noise until it makes sense.

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