Earthquake.

I get this stubborn pressure in my head, bullheaded like how I used to want to be, sometimes trying to make a situation harder than it needs to be so that everyone will make a big wide space for me. I do exist and I am important, dammit. I get this really subtle, quiet and violent anger welling up in my throat and eyes, it wants to make itself known somehow, in some small way. Get out of my way, get out of the way.

Things never turn out the way you plan them. Something comes into my hands and I mess it up in an effort to declare that I am alive, breathing, existing like all the rest of everybody everywhere. This is how I feel. This is what I am feeling today.

Jane, at Vipassana, told me this story about her boyfriend. He was walking down the bridge of flowers with a teacher-couple and their young son. The son darted away from the parents, straight to a flowerpot, dug his hands into the soil and started unearthing the stems and blossoms. The father was furious, and reproached the young son for his destructive outburst. Jane’s boyfriend quickly nosed in, and suggested to the upset father that perhaps the son wasn’t acting out in an effort to destroy – perhaps he was simply trying to make his mark on something, anything. “I exist and I can prove it by changing something, by having an effect on something. It is different than it was before, and the difference is because of me.” Yes, yes. That’s what I’ve been doing lately.

But my flowerpots have been people and my unearthing has not been of blossoms and stems, but of emotions and awkwardness. You will know that I am here because I will give you no choice. You will squirm and be angry and feel uncomfortable and remember that I affected you. Stupid, stupid life sometimes.

But, I’m meditating and I’m working through it. (I can still be kind, compassionate, it really all depends lately.)

Reading: CHE, his biography.
Viewing: Rupert Murdoch’s War on Journalism.
Listening to: Sean Lennon.

These influences are all conspiring to make me one angry, angry Putchie.

(I am getting married this weekend.)