“Back in the days our parents used to take care of us
Look at ’em now, they even fuckin’ scared of us
Calling the city for help because they can’t maintain
Damn, shit done changed”

“Things Done Changed” THE Notorious B.I.G.

I believe there has been another cosmic shift in my existence. A sea change? Am I mixing metaphors? I don’t care, it’s all tidal effects, can you feel the waves? I like that one. Most of my life I have lived near the ocean, though I have never been out of sight of land.

Sunday night I put on that meditation not knowing I would fall asleep soon after. I don’t remember what information I entered into the mental machine but the output was rage! I woke up at 3am not knowing which end was up. Hence Monday’s rant. I had a lot of anger to release. It had nothing to do with some “not quite real” person on the internet and everything to do with me.

For the last week, I was afraid I was fated. A feather floating by the whim of the universe’s breeze. I was afraid to move. I was afraid not to move. I didn’t want to miss it! Whatever “it” was. “Limited choices, chaotic voices, contradictions telling me which way to go.”

It’s not M=== either. She claims to be in tune with the energy of the universe, or some such shit. But she doesn’t remember half the details of our mysterious “connection.” She thinks I was drawn to her. She has been following me around her whole life. There I was afraid I would have to believe all that crazy shit. There are numbers all around. Today’s date, 11/17/2021, two 2’s and four 1’s. Must mean something, right? I better break out my abacus. Just another part of my universal timepiece.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve still got timing on my side. It just took listening to her bullshit for a few minutes to bring it all back. Basing her beliefs on fictional characters. Denying her mortality by imagining past lives. She has one for every occasion. I’ve got the timing back. The same Grace Jones song just ended as I wrote this, it means something completely different today. I didn’t even realize it was playing until it faded out at the end of the sentence.

I met with my new therapist yesterday and told her bit about this summer and how now I am in remission and don’t need a therapist anymore. She thought it was funny and said after we get to know each other we could work on my goals. It felt like she was telling me she is going to set goals for me. What? I’m going to become an astronaut? I corrected her. Priorities. She compromised. That was nice. She was willing to take a step towards me. I don’t know? Is this another therapist I am going to make my friend? She said she does “talk therapy”, but she meant exactly that. Talk about how my week went. Maybe I will be asking how her week went?

That is what got me to listen to Biggie Smalls. That was a blast from the past. What I had in mind was the line from “Big Poppa.”

“Who they attractin’ with that line (what?), “What’s your name? What’s your sign?”
Soon as he buy that wine, I just creep up from behind (that’s right)
And ask you what your interests are, who you be with
Things that make you smile, what numbers to dial
You gon’ be here for a while? I’m gon’ go call my crew, you go call your crew
We can rendezvous at the bar around two (come on)”

Yeah, I couldn’t listen to that for long. I would have ended up at the bar around two. Reminiscing. But I’m dancing again, letting the rhythm flow through my body.

Where was I? Oh yeah, she said, “goals” again. I let it slide. That’s not one of my priorities. Maybe both words mean the same thing? Time will tell. (Get it?)

But seriously, I could feel the peace creeping through me as I “slept” last night. I feel so relaxed.

One of the first things I did this morning was put an entry in my gratitude journal. I was grateful for me.

2 thoughts on “Pleasantville

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