In Which I Wistfully Contemplate Life With a Spine
And I can get one on eBay, cheap! Then I could stand behind all my passionate outbursts without backpedaling and whimpering and trying to make nice. Fuck that. I do hate hurting peoples' feelings unintentionally, though.
Mostly because it makes me look like a dick.
Have any of you seen the Australian movie Lantana? It's a good one--not a bottle rocket, but a solid drama with a twinge of mystery. One of the lead characters, Jane, struck a chord with me and it wasn't a comfortable one, as it resonated a little too close to my core. Not because of her personal situation, since I am neither estranged from my husband nor am I having an affair with someone else's, but on account of her choices.
Jane thinks she's a good person, that she tries to do the right thing, but each action is rooted in selfishness or self-righteousness. She always makes the wrong choice; she fucks up everything she touches--in large part because there is nothing purely good or giving about her.
Nor is there in me. Not really. Except possibly my adoration of my family and friends, though I can't express this without that self-serving filter. It's true. I am resident in my own head, and can verify this absolutely.
So, I have decided to set out additional disclosures for my three dearest local friends, so that we can proceed on less fettered footing:
Ep: No, really, I am that vapid. I choose not to read the daily newspaper. It's not that I don't have the time--if it was important, it would happen. You needn't make excuses for me. I am jealous of your diplomatic and writing talents.
Jo: I miss all your stories. I hope your blogging isn't getting in the way. I am jealous that you have two girls, and that they have a real sibling relationship unencumbered by neurologic barriers. Sometimes when I choose not to make eye contact with you and look scowly, this is why.
Badger: I don't trust our friendship, not entirely. Because I know that eventually after all that digging you will hit hardpan and realize that yes, I really am that shallow. Sorry. I am jealous of your fabulous freewheeling, sponge-like brain.
If I had a spine, I would say this in person.
Writing it down was probably the wrong choice.