This is what alcoholics call a moment of clarity.

I drove west this afternoon. And considering the ridiculous bullshit I am putting myself through, I had a little chuckle. I was thinking about James Joyce, Dubliners in particular and the hours I spent reading that book with the map of Ye Olde Dublin to try and second guess whether or not the boy was going to have a fruitful experience (in most modern literature going west is a symbol of prosperity and new beginnings blah blah blah.)

I was also driving into the sunset, another image I treasure--mostly because of my tendency to permanently peace out at will. All circumstances in my overfilled brain, combined with the squinting from my light sensitivity and the afternoon sun and rediscovery of the songs Dixie Chicken and Long Long Time, sent me on one of those classic Erin, "I was thinking while I was in the car today" jags.

And here it is:

Nature, Nurture, experience, and History have combined to make me what I am--Fucked up. And there are a lot of people to thank for that. Too many to count or realize. And now I'm becoming something I hate and am trying desperately to change that path.

I swear I was a mostly sane non-hosebeast for a very long time.

And now all I can do is be pissed at myself for my own gullibility.


+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++


I was catching my dad up on life the other day. His response was something to the effect of, You are not a real Basler Woman. You haven't broken his windshield yet. Basler's don't do this diplomacy crap.

So I do come by it honestly.