The Living Centrifuge

I find myself getting over Ben. You might say "Lordy loo, Matthew, it's about bloody time!" but I am glad of it. And if you think about my modus operandi for this one, which was to not deal with it until I got back to Toronto except for the initial pain, then it's not that long. About six weeks, plus the three weeks of pain over the holidays. Not bad. I find myself still thinking about him, but the thoughts are less "I miss him, I loved him, I kind of want him back," and more "that was really beautiful while it lasted. The time I had with him was very romantic and lovely." I was on the streetcar yesterday, going down to my first life modelling session (which was fantastic by the way), and we passed Nassau Street and Kensington Market. On our first date, Ben and I walked through Kensington, and so when the driver mentioned it, I thought about him, and then I realised that the nature of our first date (that is, nomadic) means that there are landmarks through the city that will make me think of him. What this does is increase the texture of the city for me. I have a personal and intense connection to Kensington Market, that I didn't have when it was just a place to get groovy beads.

All this to say I will probably continue to think about him, but he has melded a little more into the landscape of the city for me, which makes the thoughts not depressing, as they have been, but instead "shimmering and lovely and sad."

Two discoveries today:

1. My mother is an alcoholic.
This is one of those discoveries that I already knew. It's more that I discovered how to name it today. Same sort of thing with the abuse history. One day I just continued to think about it, and a little bolt of lightning hit me, and made me say "oh! That's what this is!" My mother is what some people call a functional alcoholic. She drinks on her own time - she doesn't get drunk at work or do anything like that, but will get drunk as soon as she gets home. When I visited her in Cleveland in 2001 for Christmas, she invited a co-worker/friend over one night. We all got to talking and in the meantime my mother passed out on the floor.
It affects her cognitive abilities. She is paranoid about me, and I suspect also about the other people in her life. She doesn't listen to logic, because I don't think she understands it as fully as she would were she lucid and sober.
I think I have had something to do with this. I used to fix drinks for her when we were all living together. They were strong. Obviously I am not able to do that for her anymore, since I am not in her vicinity, but I think that by neglecting to name the problem, I am helping to facilitate it. I think I should tell her that I think she has a drinking problem. Suggestions on this?

2. Men need exclusive activities or spaces so they can practice being men for the world. I was at the gym today, and there were no women in the weight room, so the room took on that all-male energy. I noticed one fellow practicing dancing in a mirror. It's an activity that I associate with aloneness, and then I realised that the man (admittedly, a young man) considered himself to be the equivalent of alone: the purpose of the room (a sports activity), and the makeup of the population (exclusively male) made him feel safe enough to check himself in the mirror to see how he was doing at activities that would attract women in other contexts. This is why "others" are not welcome in these sorts of contexts - because they alter the safety of the space for activities (like dancing in front of a mirror) that men don't generally want to admit that they do. If the people for whom you are practicing are present at the practice, the practice is no longer that. It is now a performance. Men practice for performances with the "other," and they're conditioned to think of women, gays, and academics as "other." Men of different colours or creeds from the subject are less problematic in this case, since the population of the neighbourhood includes a great range of different cultures and backgrounds. But you can see how Boys' Clubs and secret societies would enact racist, sexist and heterosexist exclusionary rules - it provides an insight into who the members of those clubs feel their performances are directed toward.

Here's a picture of me in 2004 in Sakuntala.

That costume adeptly hides my fat belly. :D

We are what we repeatedly do; therefore excellence is not an act, but a habit.
~ Aristotle

Freak. There's a reason the whole of Western Civilization is built on that man.

I also love this, from Jerzy Grotowski:

"Individuality is the very opposite of half-heartedness."

Freak.

I've also come to think that one makes art by training, working and trusting. Both consecutively and concurrently.

I was talking about the body with a boy today, and I discovered this: Through dance, I have started to see the body as a beautiful thing. All bodies - mine included - take on a potential as a transformative tool.

My mother my mother my mother. You know, I'm going to do this post first, because there's a lot to be thankful for. But my mother is not one of those things. Or maybe she is, but not in the joyous fashion I'm thinking. She's worth my thanks to God insofar as she appears to have been put on this earth for the purpose of trying my patience. She is God's gift to my patience. She continually cites the business deal that this condo sale, and the past four years have been. I asked her to consider a 60/40 split with me so I could pay off my student loan in its entirety. She replied that this was a business deal and I should be grateful to be getting anything at all.

Yes.

But we can take that as a given. I'm glad I'm getting any income out of this deal. Yes. However, when I ask for a 60/40 split, I am asking for enough money to be able to pay off my student loan in its entirety. Here is what I said to her - the last paragraph of my latest letter to her:

"And once again, you're reading into my arguments a lack of appreciation for the fact that you put your hard earned cash into this deal. Of course I appreciate your help. And of course I'm happy to be receiving funds at the end of this deal. However, you're not just my landlord, and this is not just business - you're my mother, and I would hope that you would be happy to see me succeed, or at least be happy to see me pay off my student loan in its entirety so that I could move on with my life.

Voila. There's my two cents."

I'm proud of the way I'm handling myself with her. She has been taking liberties with me since this deal began, and treating me with a strong disregard. I suppose I am getting so graspy about money because I'm trying to get what I can out of this transaction before it is completed. I always feel like Kathleen (my mother) would "sell the spectacles off my face" as soon as look at me - just as she would with anyone in her life. When it comes to money, she is ruthless and underhanded and I knew this when we started this deal, but I hoped that because I was me and we had a special bond when I was a child, that she would look past her acumen and see that she was dealing with her son. But that has definitely not been the case. She has treated me in the same manner that she treats all people involved in business transactions: with cold and inhuman calculation. And I have let her. I will come away from this whole thing with a chunk of my student loan paid off. But I will also come away from it smarting personally. I already smart. I am mystified as to how I can interact with this woman after she has treated me with such a lack of parental generosity. I will need to take some time away from her, which will not be too difficult as there is no communication between us unless I initiate it.

I just read The Gospel According to Jesus Christ by Jose Saramago, and the relationship between Mary and Jesus was particularly resonant, insofar as it was a very tempestuous one. That is how my relationship with my mother feels. I might have to cut her out for a while.

Man, I'm totally out of control. I was on some stupid gay website, and came across an old profile of Ben's, that he had on there, and that he hadn't visited since October. AND it said that he was single, and he wasn't! He was seeing me! and who really cares anymore? who cares!!!! I'm soooooo tired of listening to myself whine about this, and yet, I'm totally out of control. And rudderless and I don't think he's online any longer, which just makes me think that he's probably entered into some sort of connubial bliss, which is wonderful for him, you know, like bully for you, ben. it's not so much about him, it's about the fact that it's a repeated pattern in my life that I don'tfjdkal;f have any control over. Like with my first boyfriend, Don and I. We started seeing one another at almost exactly the same time that a friend of mine started seeing her girlfriend. And that was like a HUNDRED years ago now. Okay, without exaggeration, it was exactly 9 years ago. 9 years! And what have I done in terms of relationships in the past 9 years? Like NOTHING. Just nothing. And Don went on to have some sort of blissful relationship. I don't know the destiny of the relationship, but he got out of the relationship with me, and the guy he started seeing next - they moved in together. You know what? good for you. Totally happy for you. M.John. same. broke up with me, played the field, while trying to make me think that he wanted me back so we could have sex together (a transparent ruse which I saw through, and used till I was finished with him), but you know, ended up dating some girl in his masters program. Fantastic. Like, great, good for you. It's what he always wanted - some girl to make his parents happy. So good for you. then ben, you know? Like same freaking thing. Fell out of love (!) with me, and directly into love with someone else, and great. Good for you. I want you to be happy. But fjdklas;fjdkl;asFUCK!!! I just can't help but compare myself to these people, and see that they've moved on from me. I don't seem to have stopped anyone's heart dead in its tracks, you know? but on the other side of the fence, I'm in a constant state of heartbreak. Like my heart stopped about ben. m.john. don. everyone. and everyone appears to be able to function in the world without me. there is no one in the world who would miss me if I was gone. I realise that's an exaggeration, but that's what it feels like. Oh, so dramatic, Matthew. So overdone and victorian. so invalid and convalescent of you. but it feels true. I know my father would miss me. christine. the world would go on without me. of course it would. it goes on without lots of people. but I want it to stop! I want to be ..... I dont know. I want someone to love me. god how pathetic. and tiresome. the problem is this: I'm not convinced that earthly love is unsatisfying. I keep hoping and hoping that someone will actually feel that for me, but it doesn't seem to happen. jfkdslssssssssssssssssssssssss. could someone that I love say it first? why is that so much to ask? god I'm exhausted.

I think I'm losing it again. I should probably go back to my therapist. I'm such a gigantic gigantic phony. I feel so lost and helpless and I don't know what to do. I don't know how to survive on my own. I am strenuously avoiding everything. I'm even avoiding writing this right now. I'm avoiding dealing with the fact that I'm hurt by the Ben thing still and it appears to have interrupted my ability to get close to anyone. Anyone. I'm avoiding going back to dance. I'm avoiding getting my apartment ready for sale. I'm avoiding looking for a job. I'm avoiding transitioning into an independent human being. I'm avoiding discussing the financial plan with my father. I'm avoiding my mother. And I'm avoiding ....I don't know. I don't know what type of help I want, and I'm avoiding asking for any help at all because I think I'm already such a needy useless sack of flesh that asking for any more aid from those around me will confirm for them the fact that I'm a gigantic emotional black hole and they need to avoid me at all costs.
I was on such a positive wave for so long, I guess this crash was inevitable, but it's not without its merits. If this is temporary, I'll look at this in a few months and be mystified. I need to somehow be able to investigate this state more fully and with more respect, as opposed to just trying to get out of it. Maybe then I'll be able to address the crap that's causing it. The fact that I'm still a screeching infant, when it all comes down to it, and I'm just terrified that someone is going to figure out that I have no life skills whatsoever