Skip to main content

Momentary lapse of insanity.

Well, I just had a moment. Well, a sorta moment. Fine, it was a moment. You happy?

It was nothing special, even possibly something I'd realized before and forgotten. It was one of those things for which other people in the program might give me a polite smile, an understanding nod, and say "Jeez, you're finally catching on to that one?".


I woke up this morning a little before 10am knowing I didn't have work until 6pm. Having been recently sick, I reasoned, I wanted to get as much rest as I could before heading in. So I decided the best thing to do to get me back to sleep was jerk off, smoke a cigarette, and then set my alarm for, like, noon.

So I'm heading back downstairs to set my alarm, and what do I set it to? 10:30am. Nothing crazy out of the ordinary there in terms of effort (aaaand it just went off...) since it was originally set for 6:30am. Bump it up a few hours. Easy as that. And I thought something like, "There, that's more reasonable...responsible...."

But then I thought (almost to that alleged 'moment') that I did have some stuff to take care of. I wanted to work out. Talk to my dad about student loan shit. Clean my room. Other stuff.

And, also, that sleeping now would probably rob me of time to do it later (Jesus, I wish I were actually that rational when I think to myself...), and that, most importantly, I was already awake now (then). And that I wasn't really all that tired, either.

See, what it boils down to is that I am secretly (gasp!) lazy. And avoidant, but laziness makes a good cover for that. See, I don't wanna do this shit in part because it requires effort and I'd rather laze, but also because it somehow scares me (yes, cleaning my room scares me. shut the fuck up.) and the more thoroughly I can avoid it and avoid thinking about it the less it has to scare me. Napping, for example, is an excellent if unsubtle diversion\.

I'll talk more about all that later (fruitful subject), and get back to this presumed 'moment'. So I'm lying there, intending on getting my nap on, when I realize I'm at the same point I've been at all week (all my life, to be honest, but this week's been especially pointed about it).*

As this past week testifies, when I face these kindsa moments, my own willfulness usually only leads me into lazy shame. Er, shameful laziness. Something like that. Maybe it won't happen like that today, or tomorrow, or even all that badly when it does, but it sucks and I don't like it.

Point is, when I stood at this turning point this time, I didn't just recognize it for what it was--an opportunity, a choice--and I chose. I prayed.


There's plenty of ways of describing that moment, as well as what happened in it. For those who're "higher power" averse, you might see it as "committing myself to an action plan/decision". Seems a fair enough estimation.

But as far as my own, best understanding of these things, it's best if I phrase it in terms of the third step:
3. Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood Him.
I'll talk more about my higher power later, like maybe after this second 2nd step I'm doing, but the point is I didn't just make a decision, I took some action--"right action", as we'd say. I prayed. (Or "committed myself", but that sounds a little weird out of context. Yay crazies!)

And now I'm gonna go take some more action, and trust I'll be in the care of this higher power while I do it. Hooray for loan consolidation..... XD



* Better Big Book quoters might cite How It Works--"We stood at a turning point...." Yeah, wish I could say I thought of that then, but, no, only now as I'm writing this.

Comments

Other things that might interest you...

This moment: A tattoo.

So I read Mrs. Dalloway in high school, and it was perhaps the most beautiful thing I'd ever read. One passage in particular, very early in the book, hit me hard with my first experience of the sublime, and stayed with me—and led at last to my first tattoo.
In people’s eyes, in the swing, tramp, and trudge; in the bellow and the uproar; the carriages, motor cars, omnibuses, vans, sandwich men shuffling and swinging; brass bands; barrel organs; in the triumph and the jingle and the strange high singing of some aeroplane overhead was what she loved; life; London; this moment of June.  (Emphasis added; full paragraph included below. From the full text of the novel as made available by the University of Adelaide.)

The paragraph this is from, the 4th paragraph of the novel, is the 1st passage with the stream of consciousness the book is famous for; although self-limited here, the flow is no less gorgeous. In the passage, Clarissa is walking on a street to get those famous flowers herse…

Losing Doolittle.

I recently got to spend a few days at the lake house my family used to visit through most of my childhood; we no longer own it, and it turns out I missed it more deeply than I realized.

Anthony and I both got the week before NYC Pride off this year, so I contrived to get us a little time there. The cousins who own Greenshore gave Anthony and me permission to relax there for several days rather than just the 1 or 2 I had expected. Good god, I'm grateful for that.

I missed this place. Standing on the balcony, the porch, or the dock and looking out over the lake, I was reminded of the beauty and tranquility this lake represents for me. The meaning and memories, too.

This was always a place of solace and stability for me. We moved around a lot when I was a kid, but we always came back to this place. It had been in our family for generations before I was even born—if we'd been able to keep it, it would have been a solid 4 generations including mine. This was where I figured out I w…

Gardenzia carnivorus.

I recently got back into horticulture after a bad moment of burnout, and wouldn't ya know it, I'm back at it with carnivorous plants! Despite tweeting about it endlessly, I haven't actually explained how or why this started.

Back in middle school, I helped my science teacher set up a carnivorous plant display. Nothing elaborate, mind you; a terrarium with a bunch of sphagnum moss and some pitcher plants, a sundew or two, maybe a Venus flytrap? Didn't leave much of an impression, except maybe that they died and that sucked. shrug.
A couple years later, I was in a bog near my grandmother's lake house, when things changed forever. I was in the back end of the canoe, and as my dad pulled the front end out of the water, I glanced to my right and spied, on a stump with some moss, sundews (Drosera rotundifolia, to be precise).
Of course I recognized therm instantly—they're hard to mistake, with those the sparkling tentacles and all. I gathered 3 or so of them (I know