i come from a house of abbreviations and nicknames and wordplay. so it shouldn’t come as a surprise to my friends when i start calling them names or making up phrases or coming up with some new sort of “thing” i say.
to wit: i met this man who is a friend of my friend, k back in january. i remember names and faces very well. freakishly well, to some extent. so, i know what the man’s name is and i did after i met him. however, he is and was very tan. especially for a guy who lives in wisconsin in january. so, i started calling him ‘the tan man.’ now, it also helps that ‘tan man’ is wonderfully assonant and rhyming. who doesn’t love to say that!!??
everyone does, that’s who. now. about the tan man. i met this guy in january. he’s an older man … but frankly, i can’t tell if he’s my dad’s age (62) or if he’s older than that. he looks good. he’s in good shape and is quick witted and most of all … has a sense of serenity about him that i so crave. i’m sure the guy gets pissed off. i know he has a crazyish head — he and i are alike in that we’re ‘bodily and mentally different from our fellows.’ so, i get his kind and he gets mine.
one of the reasons i became all enamored of this guy right off the bat was his demeanor — easygoing, but serious. very lighthearted, but kind. there’s a gravitas to the guy — you feel like he’s really paying attention to what you have to say. who knows. maybe he’s thinking about what he’s going to have for dinner or what the drive home is going to be like. i don’t know. but, i really enjoy his energy and his company.
i guess i have one more story to tell you about him and it will weave in with one story that happened to me tonight. they’re stories about the same old story that has been being told to me and for me and about me forever. it’s my story about money. this week, on facebook and twitter, i had a status that said “i’m royally fucked.” it was because i had gotten myself in a real fucking spot with money. in a place i haven’t been in a LONG time. a ‘how the fuck am i going to pay the rent’ spot. i believe i have the same disease with money that i do with booze. it’s something that i’m powerless over, and if left alone, will get progressively worse. this has been proven to me out of my own experience. and unfortunately for me, it could lead me back to a drink, because that’s also who i am. and for me, to drink is to die.
so, i believe through a variety of means (whether it’s law of attraction things like ‘the secret’ or christian stuff or straight up AA or what-have-you) that the reason this haunts me is because of the crap i have in my head about money. that i’ve got resentments about it, towards it, against it. about people who have it, the circumstances surrounding it, etc. and i learn in AA that ANYTHING i have a resentment about is fatal for me. because ultimately, it blocks me from my higher power. and secondarily, that blocks me from people. who are also manifestations of my higher power. and if i’m blocked from god, i’ll eventually drink. spirituality is my medicine for the thing that ails me … the fact that i’m inherently ‘restless, irritable and discontented.’ that i’m anxious, scared, fearful, depressed, whatever.
anyway … back to money. i seem to have this weird thing that i don’t seem to ever have money, but i have champagne tastes. i seem to attract people who have a lot of money to me, but who are totally chill and down-to-earth and don’t act like they have a lot of money. i was talking to one of these people today (i really don’t even think i had a clue) and he was talking about how he will go home for the summer and be an escort for debutante balls down in texas.
i was flabbergasted. first of all, i didn’t think they did that anymore. i thought that was something that was done in the 1950s. at this point, i wasn’t even thinking money. i was thinking feminism. like, how gross to parade around your daughters in an effort to marry them off. but, my attitude toward this led my friend to feel weird and embarrassed and it was apparent that he was worried about how it looked, money wise. that it was about society things and he didn’t want to look that way. but i hadn’t considered that aspect of it. i was more upset about the cattle show thing. but, then as we talked some more, i got that part of it. oh wait, i thought. .. they DO still do this. because this is a high society thing and people want to match up their people according to money and status and make sure everything gets where it ‘should’ go. then, i started to get more mad. and as i got more mad, he got more bummed out.
and that wasn’t my intention at all. at all. but of course, when i am in self-centered fear, i don’t really have time to consider someone else’s feelings. i’m all wrapped up in mine. but i realized that i was feeling totally inadequate. i was never going to be a part of that … even though i didn’t want to be. i was never going to be considered cool enough or rich enough or fancy enough or whatever enough to be a part of that sort of american royalty. and there is a part of my soul that is so deeply offended and rejected by that. i don’t know what happens, but i just get so pissed because inside i feel so low and sad and so dirty. like i would never ever be good enough for them. i’m some sort of lowly maid in this life. like it’s some weird fairytale or something.
and i feel like i’ll never have any abundance when i live in that sort of literal and figurative scarcity. when i’m always seeing myself as too poor or too empty or too lacking. it’s a struggle to be sure. it’s something i’m working on. especially, since that attitude not only hurts me, it’s hurting others by my immature and sad reaction to life that i carry with me as a result.
in comparison, we drove to dinner the other night in the tan man’s new BMW convertible. this thing was HOT. i loved it. and it was just one of many possible dream cars i could have. the thing is, he owned a nice car. but his car didn’t own him. instantly, he offered the keys to my friend and told her she should drive. boom. i thought — wow. how great. he’s just not tied to it. he’s not worried or paranoid or anything. he’s willing to let go and let someone else enjoy it. it was a powerful lesson. the man obviously has some material things. but they don’t consume him. he enjoys them, they don’t take over his life.
i hope i’m that way someday. i hope i have nice things and go nice places. but i also hope that like clive owen likes to chant in ‘the croupier,’ i can “hold on tightly and let go lightly.”
man, what a shitty blog post. sorry, friends. i’m getting back into the swing of things. forgive me.