Ramblings... hopefully sensible ones.

I looked up my analytics. God that sounds so personal. Like your weight, BMI, cholesterol level, sex inventory, or GPA. And it, like everything in life seems to fall in the grays and not extremes. It is neither overwhelmingly popular or crickets chirping. It is surreally awkward. Like sneezing and tripping and farting in front of the guy you have a crush on. You can’t fake it didn’t happen and hope they find you endearing and adorable and like able in spite.

It also makes me think of the perimeters I have set for myself while doing this. And makes me glad that I have them. LM Montgomerry’s magnus opus Anne of green gables is my all time favorite series ever. I relate so much to Anne and her youngest Rilla, heroinne of the last of the Anne. Anyway, the last book is Rilla’s diary from her experience of WWI. She touches on the sensitivity between an honest recollection of thoughts and feelings versus what she would like posterity to read or know about her interior life. My reading my analytics make me think of this. I have so many snap judgements and opinions that are not nice and how I would like to be or thought of.

Perhaps this is the paradox. Or my paradox: how to be thoughtful and honest without being catty and bitchy or prim and prissy. 

I am beginning to see the work I have done paying off. And that is making it easier to read people and situations and make conclusions. Which is great! Except... except that I have an ego like an elephant and believe I am always right and should be perfect (held to different higher better standards and still hit a home run)  and THAT is where I have to be so careful. So and so is a so and so. So and so should be doing this because they’re stuck on that. So and so really needs to.... and it goes on and on and on.

I had a conversation with a friend last night and we were talking about group ethics. And this is me restating the convo in my words through my lens. It was whether one has to be 100% in, drink every drop of Koo Aid, decide the earth really is flat. And if it turns out the food coloring in purple Kool Aid gives you a rash and you abstain can you still be active with the groups mentality.  (clearly this was a conversation I had with a fellow alcoholic.)

It has made me think a lot about being an addict and how the disease really does want us to always be pushing the edge of the extremes. And that my expectation is it will be a lifelong dance. Find the middle push to the edge, stop, refocus, recenter, return to the middle and restart.” And thinking back on our conversation that something we probably need to accept is that it is not just alcohol we are powerless over. We also should accept the measuring sticks used to measure a quality life are different. And alcohol is no longer something that helps define a memorable moment. 

So in my long ciruitous rambling way that is it- in giving up alcohol and accepting that we are powerless over it we are also giving up that we could lead a “normal” life and that it is the collective we, the individual Ego, that must be brave and humble enough to strive to find a life that works for us in which we have cotton walls that can breathe and expand and contract as needed. That we need to work to see ourselves and how and where we can fit. I want to be a famous artist whose work and memory is looked at and cited for centuries. I want to be the 21st century Ruth Duckworth or Eva Hess. And what I am is someone who makes and thinks and asks and teaches and engages. Which may lead to just a life lived with no memories of me being passed on for eons. 

And goodness. Being humble. I was buying two new flannels from Lands End at Sears and there was a 15% off for teachers. I was asked and said “yes, I am a teacher.” I was trying to explain my credentials and how value/rate me isn’t in a title on an ID card and the lady said “well I have always thought of Ceramics as craft and not educational anyway.”

BOOM.

Pfffft. 

Splat.

 *sigh*

I just wrote a paragraph and got even more preachy and self righteous and just vomited a bit in my mouth and got the desire to punch myself.  Im an over thinker. An obsessor. A neurotic artist. A Pisces who likes long walks on the beach. And a natural blond who’s hair is brown and cannot roll her tongue. 

I am ridiculous as is this program I am trying to do and be a part of. This crazy life I am working to make sense and successfull. And I don’t know too much other than if I drink I will die soon. And that as I am overthinking all of these deep thoughts I need to laugh. And laugh hard! As this is a funny lovely ridiculous life that I am having so much fun living. 

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Christina Osheim