Day 13- As it turns out, my hips do lie.

So I am fighting an uphill battle right now. And I realize that it’s all entirely in my head, which makes it so much less satisfying when defeat is imminent. Sometimes I just feel like I need to pull my head from posterior depositing. 

I am really unhappy with a number of aspects in my life, and I’m wondering, “when is it going to get better.” I feel like I like the courage and aptitude to make real changes and I am terrified I will live my whole life without ever realizing my full capacity- spiritually, physically, emotionally, mentally…

I hope I am not the only one who feels hopelessly unable to fend for themselves. I just don’t feel strong enough to do what must be done. 

Sort of pathetic really. Pathetic, and cowardly. 

I think I am just making excuses. 

Anyway, I got through half of “The Things They Carried.” I actually had a break between my two jobs, so I was able to just sit and vegetate with the book in front of my face.

Now, there are times when passages are so grotesque and beautiful at the same time. I don’t really know where to begin. 

“They carried shameful memories. They carried the common secret of cowardice barely restrained, the instinct to run or freeze or hide, and in many respects this was the heaviest burden of all, for it could never be put down, it required perfect balance and perfect posture. They carried their reputations . They carried the soldier’s greatest fear, which was the fear of blushing. Men killed, and died, because they were embarrassed not to.” 


I’ve never been to war. I probably never will. Yet, half the things I do or don’t do is out of embarrassment of the consequences. What will my family think? What will my friends think? Somehow I feel like I could deal with all my problems the embarrassment of it all wasn’t very public.

“I sit at this typewriter and stare through my words and watch Kiowa sinking into the deep muck of a shit field, or Curt Lemon hanging in pieces from a tree, and as I write about the things, the remembering is turned into a kind of of rehappening. Kiowa yells at me. Curt Lemon steps from the shade into bright sunlight, his face brown and shining, and then he soars into a tree.” 

A little bit later O’Brien writes, “The parts were just hanging there, so Dave Jensen and I were ordered to shinny up and peel him off. I remember the white bone of an arm. I remember pieces of skin and something wet and yellow that must have been the intestines. The gore was horrible, and stays with me. But what wakes me up twenty years later is Dave Jensen singing ‘Lemon Tree’ as we threw down the parts.” 

Naturally I am attracted to the gore parts. I’m not sure why. I’m also not sure why I think it’s funny. 

I know it’s awful, but I laughed. 

I’m not sure what I’m feeling tonight. I should feel successful, working two jobs today and getting though half of a book. I just don’t. 

I’m pretty sure this funk came to me after watching Shakira videos and realizing that my body is not strong like it should be. I’m 23 and I’m letting it rot. I’m not even brave enough to fix the problem. 

I am seriously letting my whole world go topsy turvy because of Shakira music videos. 

Why do I let myself do this to myself. 

Well, I guess that’s enough whining for now. 


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