Saturday, 22 December 2007

The Dark Reality of Crushed



I like to party. A lot. I need rooms full of people, I need music on whilst I blog, I hate being silent, I hate being on my own, I don't even really like it, if I'm alone with just one other person. I need that continuous sense of interaction.

It's why I'm a good salesman. Needing the buzz, I've learned the buzz. I seek it, live it, feed on it.

It's my life mechanism, my survival mechanism, my comfort zone.

Because the person I am without that, is a very different person. One I can only release in front of a handful of people, knowing they will protect that person, before I lock him back up, behind the cast iron defences of the persona I live as.

And that's a strong persona. My mechanisms for dealing with the world are strongly oiled. When I'm focussed, I don't put a foot wrong. One of my (usually misunderstood) sayings in RL is 'If you know how control dogs, you know how control people', because it happens to be true. I have made a deliberate point of learning how human dynamics work and using that understanding.

And it's part self protection. I guard myself.

The Baker is one of the few I trust enough, to see the me that lies behind that.

The Baker is now living with us half the week. Funny thing is, it doesn't feel odd. The only wierd thing is, the regular meals. My flatmate has always been a trifle wary of asking if I've eaten, because of how cagy I get when asked.

Typical conversation;

Flatmate: Have you eaten?
Crushed: I got a ham and cheese slice from the Spar.
Flatmate: You should eat proper meals.
Crushed: Stop worrying- not your problem, hon.

The Baker is more of an enforcer.
The Baker spends a good portion of his life worrying about me. The Baker sees aspects of me no-one else does.



He's seen me and tearful and hysterical, letting it all out. He knows me at that deeper level, the level my flatmate is allowed to see in entirity on occasion, that I allow the Chimney Sweep a glimpse of, but has no existance beyond that.

He understands that distant look that appears in my eyes sometimes, that look of apprehension, that need suddenly to get some fresh air.

He knows how I dread people penetrating my defences, how my inner level is something that only he is permitted to see.

He knows my opinions, and by now, understands and agrees with them.

But here is the divergence.



We just went for a drink and he said he wanted me to have a good 2008. He (correctly) observed that as things stand I'm not a contented bunny.
The Baker believes the solution is there for the taking. It involves just playing by the system, playing the system in fact, going for the top job, settling down, etc.

He believes it is all there, should I make that choice.

I just don't see it making me happy.
What he wants, is for me to find someone and stop obsessing about, well, the stuff I write about.

It's just not a viable option.

I think about this stuff in my sleep.

8 comments:

Anonymous said...

I can get so wrapped up in my thoughts I'll forget to eat all day long. Sometime before bed, I'll realize my stomach might well be trying to eat itself, and throw on some soup and make a sandwich.

My family doesn't want me to be a writer. They want me to do something sensible, like engineering, or accounting. But I can't even make myself think about those things. Writing gripped me and will not let go, nor will I let it.

And that's the thing. I think about things like this, issues like the ones you ponder. My verse writing does not reflect that because I don't want it to do so. I write the things I do as my own break from the thoughts of reality. I write to attain peace, or to unwind, or have fun. Then I go and visit a lot of blogs and get to express the other side of my thoughts. That too, is a lot of fun.

I loved to party, but now that I'm getting older, I realize how much of what I used to do was only a way of dulling my mind from thinking too much about these things. Not accusing you of that, but in my case, that was it. I once went years without being sober except in the morning. I was a high functioning pothead by day and drunk by night, getting A's in college and working two jobs. I can't do that anymore. I can have a few drinks, smoke a little greens from time to time, amongst other recreational substances, but I can't do what I used to. All I do is let myself down now that I got used to sobriety. I can't be numb anymore.

Thank God for our caretakers, our enforcers, though. People like the Baker don't come around every day. It's really difficult for people to care. And I'm sure you know that and look out for them, as well.

Anonymous said...

Do you trust Baker? Because he sees you in the big picture. You don't know if it would make you happy, but he sees that it puts you in a position where you can work for happiness.

You're clearly unhappy with the current situation, so something has to change.

Anonymous said...

Eric- 'I loved to party, but now that I'm getting older, I realize how much of what I used to do was only a way of dulling my mind from thinking too much about these things. Not accusing you of that, but in my case, that was it.'
I concede that point in the post above.

I know how you feel about writing. It is a release, it's funny, because I still type with one finger, believe it or not :)
My Dad tried to push me to 'respectable' profession, but I ended up in Sales. I just can't do paperwork.

I'd be lost without my caretakers, truly.

Phish- I am unhappy, but there are multiple causes. The main one is being continually worn out, yet never getting a chance to relax.

He does have my best interests at heart, I know that.
He doesn't understand blogging, though. That sometimes creates problems in explaining things to him.

Anonymous said...

Perhaps it would be worth your while at least taking part of his advice?

He might not understand blogging but it shouldn't consume your life.

Anonymous said...

You'll "settle" when you are ready Crushed.

Anonymous said...

Goodness me you have been busy blogging up a storm lately. I don't know where to start but will here.

Trust the Baker if he knows you so well and he seems a sensible fellow. Unfortunately you don't just find someone because it seems like the time to settle down. It has to be the right someone and maybe you're not ready yet anyway. Doesn't sound like it to me.

Anonymous said...

Catharsis is a miraculous thing. Sometimes the mere act of composing a post when I am feeling my most dismal, the act of putting it into narrative form, seems to be enough to put it all into perspective.

Anonymous said...

Oestrebunny- Usually there is nothing more likely to rile me than people taking active steps to involve thmselves too far. I won't give my home phone number OR my mobile to my grandmother and always call her through 1471 for exactly that reason.

In his case, I make an exception, because after all, he is gerally looking at the world from the stance of being programmed in a very similar way to me.

Welshcakes- I guess. I think the Baker thinks now would be a good time, so we can be a set of couples. That might seem bizarre, but I think he thinks it would round off our little family nicely.

jmb- :)a sensible fellow. In many ways, he's as reckless as I am (I have NO idea where his money goes), we enjoy the same things. Often we can be a terrible influence on eachother, because we both drive eachother to excess.

But that is also why we can trust eachother, often we understand situations the other one is in.

The right someone, that's a difficult one. This is really is it, I keep meeting people who just make me heart leap, it really is true, but then, sooner or later something turns out to be not what I was hoping for.

Princess P- Yes, you're right there. But I don't think that should be abused. I don't think it's fair to just vent rage on a subjective basis.

Often my posts are actually responses to something idiotic I've heard someone say (sometimes seen written) and I feel I need to burst that perception.

It is cathartic, sometimes. That recent post I did on the realities of poverty and drug addiction in the UK, I found quite cathartic to write.