It’s Not Me Baby

I was just downstairs getting free coffee when I met this guy.  I didn’t meet him really.  He just complained about the coffee and I thought he was miserable and that this was a patterened way he had worked out to approach girls.  Complaining.

But now I’m thinking about patterns in my own life, the many things I do that don’t serve me at all, in relationships in particular.   Like the fact that I want to be with the person I love all the time, to the point where I can’t focus on my own life, to the point where I’m riding along on worthless errands and falling asleep to TV buzz.  Yuck.

Other things I do that I hate are eating milk and cheese, twittering or facebooking in that vain sort of way- not in a networking way, more of a “look at me” kind of way.  I don’t like when I watch TV.  I don’t like walking too far.  It makes me worry that I’ve chosen the wrong city.  I don’t like when I smoke while drinking but I really like smoking during the day.  It makes me aware of the way my breath moves through my body.  It makes me thankful.  I don’t like that I PMS, but what the fuck am I supposed to do about that?  I don’t like when I don’t say what I want, I usually don’t recognize my wants until I can’t have them.  Like I’m not really afraid of dying, not at all.  I could have gone to Afghanistan with Pete.  I could live in France.  I could stop talking for a week.

Patterns are so heavy because they don’t feel like patterns, they feel like my personality, inescapable.  But I know better.  And I hope that complainer guy does too.  And anyway, I really like the coffee.  It’s tasty and the machine it comes out of is a lot of fun.

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