Day 69. My Dark Passenger.

Two nights ago, while drinking a pint of beer, I thought that I might be regaining my sense of humour. Earlier that morning I had an ironic thought. Like, is there a 12 step program to quit the power greater than me, i.e., the love of my life? Or am I just supposed to drink?

But of course therein lies the problem: this is undeniably “my” sense of humour which is rather on the dark and depressing side. I have always considered my sense of humour to be one of my greatest assets even though I have not always used it for the power of Good and have managed to alienate some people. That sense of humour based on my rather negative worldview has been my “dark passenger.” In Jeff Lindsay’s books about the serial killer named Dexter Morgan (I believe there was a mildly popular American television series based on those books as well), the protagonist refers to his inner darkness – the essence that makes him the serial killer – as Dark Passenger. We’ll my sense of humour is my dark inner essence. I wonder if it will stay…

Day 67. A New Perspective?

After a lot of thinking I am starting to see Her in a more realistic fashion as opposed to putting her on a pedestal. I realise now that She treated me with contempt, disrespect, and a complete lack of consideration, and with disregard for my feelings. She has chosen to be angry at me for whatever it was that made Her angry rather than be my friend. She has abandoned me in my moment of direst need.

And yet, somehow, my feelings for Her are just as strong as they were three months ago.

Day 59. Getting Emotional.

Warning: improv nerdery!

So as part of my super busy week, I am taking a number of improv workshops. One in particular has really resonated with me. It was rooted in a number of emotional acting techniques, such as those pioneered by Lee Strasberg, Meisner, and Stanislavsky.

One of the exercises consisted of two improvisers on stage acting out an emotion. No words – sounds and body language only. Of course, the one I got was love. I got through it without getting too weird. I think.

And then, as they say, shit got real. We did a Strassberg exercise called 12345. The idea is that all you can say is 1, 2, 3, 4, and 5 in any combination or order. The actual message is emotional: the improvisor has to tap into his own feelings and emotions and bring that out. But because the actual text is just digits which allows the improvisor to think of something that he/she feels safe and comfortable to unload whatever was weighing on their souls.

So I unburdened myself. It felt liberating, cathartic even. After the workshop, a feeling of easiness and warm energy filled my core. It did not last for the whole day. But it felt good and positive to do that. Even though I have been doing a writing equivalent of this here for the past two months, doing a vocal exercise gave me an extra dimension of the sharing experience.

Not sure what this will mean for the future but I’m interested to keep finding out.

Day 53. Calm Before The Storm.

This is the last calm weekend for a while. Starting Tuesday, my life will become a whirlwind of photography, improv, more photography, etc. I am hoping to score some gigs; even if they are unpaid, it is fine as I am being paid in access, opportunities, and waved cover  charges.

I am hoping not to forget to keep making the posts but I might. Peace out.

Day 52. Keeping Busy.

Today was supposed to be a quiet day followed by an evening of improv greatness. I was planning on catching up with my photography and prepping my autobiography blurb and setting up a portfolio for the blog that I want to photograph and write for. (Preferably without ending sentences with prepositions.) However, a good friend of mine needs help moving (his earlier apartment burned down) and I shall gladly oblige.

One of the things that came out of these recent times is that I do not really have any close friends that I could call at any time to talk about my shit. I do have those kind of friends but they live thousands of miles away in a very different time zone. As my mind tech has noted, this is a long time without true emotional intimacy. A perfect example: I am not sitting at home, typing this post on my computer. I am at a bar where I came to see an acquaintance that is moving to New York. I feel so insanely uncomfortable because I do not know anyone else here that it is actually preferable to sit alone on a bench than try to interact.

So,
image

I raise this glass to old friends and hopefully some new ones.

Sláinte.

Day 51. Trying To Relax.

On the advice of my mind technician I have tried some mindful relaxation during lunch break. Thank fully the weather is nice and I went to sit in my car and listen to the sounds of wind while trying to repeat a mantra that is supposed to quiet my worried mind.

This is harder than I remember it being when I was younger. Granted my mind has been far more perturbed lately and in my younger days (prior to being diagnosed with ADHD and discovering Methylphenidate) I spent a lot of time shutting and locking down my emotions. Still though, this is ging to be far harder than I initially assumed.

The thoughts that plagued me the most were the self-aggrandising daydreaming kind and the ones about Her. I guess no matter how much I am trying to gain some emotional peace, the memories of Her haunt my every thought for I do still love Her.

Day 50. Picking Up.

Well, this is no good. Between the pain in the wrist and in my blogging thumbs and just generally feeling sick, I have completely forgot about blogging.

To be honest though, I have been feeling a bit better lately and as usual I deluded myself into thinking that I am better.

But I’m not. In the past, I have tended to latch onto an idea or a goal that would get me feeling excited and optimistic. And I would latch onto it with the thinking that it would make everything better because the problem was outside of myself rather than inside of me.

I have got to stop doing that!

I need to work on getting myself better. I have to work on changing my patterns of negative and defeatist thinking. Otherwise, I will not get healthy and will continue to carry this pain inside.

One of the reasons I am so fucked up right now is because I have thought of my last relationship the same way as I did about my other obsessions: this will make everything right. So when She left me, the sense of loss of my greatest love was perversely intertwined with the sense of loss of my better self. Even though that was never the case – that relationship, nor any other relationship, would have “cured” me – I still can’t help but mourn the loss of that future.

And regardless of everything else, I still love Her and think of Her constantly.