bluets bluets bluets
she keeps talking of bluets
this is going to be dark - very dark, and twisted and strange and maybe should signal red flags to anyone reading but i was just really realizing it today, as I was setting silverware in my empty restaurant and i thought "hey. you've thought about this more than a few times. perhaps you should examine it".
so here it is: do you ever imagine a loved one dying, suddenly or tragically, and almost fantasize about it? not about you doing them in, but about how it would affect you afterwards? i'm talking the dearest of people to you, sisters, partners, parents. how it would give you a sort of - release, i guess. not that you would ever wish harm upon them and you would be devastated, crushed, bearing grief beyond all you could imagine. but still when i think about that, i have noticed that silently, muted but present, i posses that soft smile that happens sometimes when people are talking about tragedies. that certain subtle relishing of tragedy and the selfish ways it may benefit you - even in just the catharsis of going through that grief. i find myself scolding that part of myself quickly after I have that thought and return to my normal empathetic self. but still, it's there. the evidence of the truly wicked and selfish part of me.
but maybe...not so wicked? perhaps just looking objectively?
when something happens to me, or I imagine a situation happening to me - i react instantly emotionally, and then look at it as if it's not happening to me at all, and i'm holding this object in front of me and studying the landscape of the human experience and letting it just be. the second tier of my processesing, we'll call it, allows for anything to be permissible - anything to exist - horror, betrayal, incest, flesh eating cats that take over your home. and not just all terrible things, but ambiguous things too - material is nonexistent, love is a facade, colors are vapid. but then the emotional/rational part of me returns to collect it's things, shakes off the "ridiculous" and comes to the conclusion that all is well and all will be well and ordered and it's fine. it's fine, oh it's fine.
and this all happens in a matter of .5 seconds. and i don't ever realize it until i catch it. and then i realize i think things like somewhat fantasizing about the deaths of loved ones.
i used to call this, when i was younger, "double thinking". i spent a lot of time with myself - i'm realizing more as i get older how much time i spent by myself. i created quite a rich inner life, one i'd like to come into contact with again sometime soon. I remember specifically thinking about this "double thinking" while i was in our dining room which consisted of three completely tall mirrored walls and one wall of tall windows. i remember standing in that room, as I often did, in the corner where two mirrors met, and talking to the other "me"s. i would instruct different "me"s to do different things and discuss different ideas and one day i was thinking about something we learned about the pope in class and I was telling a "me" to do something - I would do this either silently or whispered, and i can't remember which it was then. but i remember thinking - I was just now thinking about the pope and where he must live and where he would be going that day while at the SAME exact time i was thinking that i should have one of my "me"s go on a mission somewhere else in the house. so i would test this. and i would try to think two things at the same time. one would be a lot slower than the other, like a direction to do something, and the other would be like the thought about the pope. and it's like i would see it as a banner going across my mind, one layered on top of the other. and i was fascinated with this. "double thinking".
well, i also thought i had a secret super power because i would see colored spots over my eyes sometimes - until later i realized that this is what happens when you stare at lights too long...
but this "double thinking" concept has stuck with me, and it's been a long while since i caught my unfiltered thoughts, until that moment at work. one of my highest values is honesty - truth. integrity of the human experience. whatever it may be. and i think i've forsaken a lot of that in the past couple of years and exchanged it for the brimming awkward handbag of : being preoccupied with being the person/partner/friend i should be, distancing myself from religion/christianity and therein withit much of the soul searching i equated with my faith, and just trying to figure out if i should be a caring part of humanity or resign myself to being an inanimate object slowly shrinking forever on my couch until i die and then dissolve and someone sweeps me up.
on the last week that i was in college, my advisor had given all of her advisees a badge of sorts, that had one word that she chose to signify something we were either good at or stood for or valued. mine was "honesty". i was slightly shocked, but felt very seen and understood when she gave it to me. we had never explicitly talked about how this mattered to me, and i don't think i ever really talked about it in general, i just sort of sought after it. so the fact that she handed this to me at the end of a whirlwind of a college/faith experience meant a lot. i wasn't like the others in the program - they had set ideas about how they would use art within the community. they had visions, goals, skills. and all i had were questions. all i still have, i feel, are questions. but i treasured my questions. to have anyone who doesn't know me well and know my narrative understand what this means to me, i'll have to try to write it out for myself here sometime, perhaps.
but i want to return back to the actual thought that brought me here and try to understand where that comes from. or why the biggest thing i feel is release? why would there be a part of me that feels release when a loved one dies?
i think it could be the same way i felt when my parents separated.
it was sudden. Literally in one day my mom had us pack up the things from our house and move in with our grandparents. i had recently, as a birthday present, redesigned my room. i bought a whole new bed frame and vanity set that were cherry wood and a cool stand up lamp in the corner that looked like large vines and flowers coming up. I had a whole new lavender bedspread i was so excited about. i had been dreaming of this room for months. and now, it didn't matter. i packed one small bag, barely cared about what i put in it, and headed out.
there was something relieving about not having attachments or things to worry about. was it things to decide to care about? was it relief over not having to decide what colors looked best anymore? because in the back of my mind i was insecure about it anyways?
and how does this relate to the first thought? does it all?
i'm really not sure.
perhaps when you think about the aftermath of the death of a loved one, it changes you. it makes a choice for you, in a way. and if there's one thing i simultaneously crave and become anxious by, it's choices. when i don't have a choice out, or in, for that matter, i freeze up. can't deal. but when there are too many options, i also freeze up. cannot deal. so perhaps in somewhat fantasizing about what it would be like after the death of a loved one, it's really fantasizing about a choice being made for me. like, i don't have to choose a certain career, or place to live because i have to respond to this tragedy that has happened to me. i don't have to choose where to live if one of my sisters suddenly dies - i will move home. because then i will be with my family. and then i don't have to think about how to craft my own life, i will be a support, and i will have a banner.
i'm not saying i would actually do these things. because in actuality, i don't think i would - forsake my own career or choices of lifestyle or what have you. maybe. maybe not.
the main point is - i thought it. and isn't that interesting?