19. Accept Loss Forever
Jun. 21st, 2011 10:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mallorys_cameraSo I haven't been able to afford to keep up the payments on the CA storage unit -- it's just too much money, and I'm always running weeks behind. And Marion called me to tell me that unless I can figure out a way to get $XXX quick, the unit was going up for auction.
I was at DeWitt park with Reuben when I got the call from Marion. Reuben was reading out loud to me from that YA book about Tibet. If I thought Bolormaa was having a hard time with sin and holy, it was only because I hadn't yet tackled the subject of reincarnation with Reuben.
Naturally the moment I got off the phone I burst into tears.
"What's wrong? What is matter?" Reuben asked.
I shook my head. "I can't -- I won't -- I don't --"
Eventually -- predictably -- I did tell him.
And just as predictably I suppose, he offered to give me the money.
"I can't take your money," I said. "That would be incredibly unethical."
"No, no problem. I have the money, you don't. It's no problem."
He kept offering. I kept refusing. And eventually his offers made me feel better -- no, not for the reason you might think, because (swoon!) somebody cared But because... Well. If I really, really, really wanted to keep the stuff, I would have taken Reuben's money, unethical or no -- honestly there were no strings attached, I would have been out nothing. Reuben just really likes me. The fact that I wasn't willing to do something unethical meant that I could deal with the loss. Because if it had been a survival thing, I would have done whatever it took, I would have stopped at nothing. Would have dined on shit and champignons at the very top of the Eiffel Tower; would have crept into the White House to stab Obama in his bath.
I'm sad. But it's just stuff
In other words, FJ tried to kill himself. M feels horribly guilty because a couple of months ago FJ -- well, not confronted him, FJ is not confrontational. FJ said, "It doesn't feel like we're friends anymore." And M said, "Maybe we're not."
90 Ativan.
I once wrote a paper about the difference between real suicide notes and fake suicide notes. Of course all the people whose notes I read had ended up dead so in the most important sense I suppose they were all real suicide notes. But see, not all those people had intended to end up dead. Many of them had intended to be found before they died -- only the supporting actors blew their cues.
Here's the difference: In a fake suicide note, every single reference is explained, almost to the point of footnotes. In a real suicide note, on the other hand, the crazy references just hang there, the writer doesn't give a fuck whether the reader understand them or not. He or she is writing for eternity's eyes alone.
I was at DeWitt park with Reuben when I got the call from Marion. Reuben was reading out loud to me from that YA book about Tibet. If I thought Bolormaa was having a hard time with sin and holy, it was only because I hadn't yet tackled the subject of reincarnation with Reuben.
Naturally the moment I got off the phone I burst into tears.
"What's wrong? What is matter?" Reuben asked.
I shook my head. "I can't -- I won't -- I don't --"
Eventually -- predictably -- I did tell him.
And just as predictably I suppose, he offered to give me the money.
"I can't take your money," I said. "That would be incredibly unethical."
"No, no problem. I have the money, you don't. It's no problem."
He kept offering. I kept refusing. And eventually his offers made me feel better -- no, not for the reason you might think, because (swoon!) somebody cared But because... Well. If I really, really, really wanted to keep the stuff, I would have taken Reuben's money, unethical or no -- honestly there were no strings attached, I would have been out nothing. Reuben just really likes me. The fact that I wasn't willing to do something unethical meant that I could deal with the loss. Because if it had been a survival thing, I would have done whatever it took, I would have stopped at nothing. Would have dined on shit and champignons at the very top of the Eiffel Tower; would have crept into the White House to stab Obama in his bath.
I'm sad. But it's just stuff
In other words, FJ tried to kill himself. M feels horribly guilty because a couple of months ago FJ -- well, not confronted him, FJ is not confrontational. FJ said, "It doesn't feel like we're friends anymore." And M said, "Maybe we're not."
90 Ativan.
I once wrote a paper about the difference between real suicide notes and fake suicide notes. Of course all the people whose notes I read had ended up dead so in the most important sense I suppose they were all real suicide notes. But see, not all those people had intended to end up dead. Many of them had intended to be found before they died -- only the supporting actors blew their cues.
Here's the difference: In a fake suicide note, every single reference is explained, almost to the point of footnotes. In a real suicide note, on the other hand, the crazy references just hang there, the writer doesn't give a fuck whether the reader understand them or not. He or she is writing for eternity's eyes alone.
