Crossroads: some thots about relationships, feelings, and communication, as an exercise for assertiveness group.
3/23/07


None of the questions seem to fit, or at least its been a long time since they fit, and I haven’t really worked out about other things, and im exhausted, so im just gonna free write here for a while, riffing on each of the questions, 100 words here or 200 there, inelegant little knots of lists and half digested working thrus.

Describe yr feelings prior to yr first date

my first date ever, or my first date with a new man…can I talk about sex here, because really, if you want my honest feelings, they center around, will I get laid, first tings first—its not does he like me or will he like me or will I stain my shirt on soup or sauce (those things come later, and I don’t eat soup or pasta at a restaurant for that reason, because im afraid of getting messes everywhere) but the first thing, is will I get laid…am I too fat, or too obnoxious or too boring, or don’t I fit well enough emotionally that fitting in physically wont happen. So, first feelings, sizing myself up, literally, metaphorically, sourcing history, sorting contexts, about the possibility of romance, and the pracitical elements of romance, do we have a place, a rubber, am I clean, will the conversation go smoothly enough that we can lead it into other directions…(and then there is the ambiguity of meeting handsome men for coffee, and thinking it’s a date, but its something else, hes not queer or hes only interested in a being a friend, so I mean, where you are going is impt too, movies, no chance, dinner, chance, coffee way to ambiguous. If its my first date ever w. a boy, then it was a click, a this fits and this will be okay, and an exurbance, like that morrisssey line I sing before going out every time now, date or not::
“im going out tonite/but I haven’t got a thing to wear/im going out tonite/and im too handsome to care…

prior to an impt exam.

I go to the washroom, puke in the toilet, sweat like its august in beaunos aries, sit down (any exam, pop quiz, or impt one) and blank out, I do t he short answer, the multiple guess, and then my stomach seizes up, I excuse myself, go back to the bathroom, and puke again. High school, university, thruout my academic career, exams would be puking in the beginning, puking in the middle, and then convinced I failed, black hole at the end, in uni that meant everyone went out for g and ts, which often lead back to the first question (I have also stood up in the middle of an exam or two and just didn’t finish, couldn’t finish, any idea that was in my head, left—I failed exams regularly, tose I studied for and those I was lasizez fair about.

Job interview.
I don’t puke, but I spend hours obsessing over my clothing to the detriment of anything else. I can b/s sufficiently to g et a job, or could until they ended up making you take elaborate pysch tests for stocking shelves at wal mart or being a wage slave at video update. Then the exam worry came in, I never knew how to answer them, negoiote the trick questions, not be too honest, the one at wal mart was 156 questions. Most of the interviews themselves, either way, were cursory, and general nervousness seemed relatively normal.. I didn’t really freak out until they started including pop remixes of the Minnesota multiphasic.

Try out for a team…
I didn’t. im not a joiner.

Prior to a confrontation.
Either I want to rip out their throats like a lion and a wildebeest in one of those mutual of ohama specials, or I want to run as far away as humanly possible, I try to get to the run away (physically removing myself from danger) before the lion stage, because im weak, blind, and end up hurting myself rather then vice versa.

Intimidated by someone
This one, I learnt just to suck it up, get the butterflies, and try to avoid it, but working thru curatorial tasks, finding artists for shows and things, you just gotta ask, sometimes it gets incredibly exciting though---theres this show im having based on a drawing by ed ruscha, and it took me months, and a few emails/phone calls, and I finally got permission, now this is the thing that you’ve got to understand about the ruscha thing, is that the work ive been creating professionally (the truck book, the saint thing, my photographs) are mostly about his work, hes my hero, hes the dude I want to be, its like a pond skater asking gretzkys agent for a favour, but when I finally did it, and it turned out well, all of my anziety about asking disappeared.

Rejected yr request.
I got 5 rejections this week, one gets used to it. Im disappointed, a little frustrtated at the lack of information that people give w. rejections, but right now, its just something that happens. (the information is a big thing, I don’t know what it is, but I like to know the answer, and I get angry at just because, have since I was a kid, and when its something that I don’t have to be professional, some puissant csr or something like that, then im a lot less patient, a lot less willing to engage on a human level…which most likely makes me a fairly major jerk)

Refused someone elses request.
Guilt, endless guilt, for days. A gnawing sense of obligation in my stomach, a little monster fed by my mothers deep beliefi n politness, and my grandmothers continued belief in the protestant work ethic. I will spend weeks working for free, for no beneifet, go out of my way, and then break down when I cant do something for someone.

Blamed for someone elses behaviour
I assume its cosmic justice, I mean it upsets me, and I feel sometimes crushed by the injustice, etc etc, tending towards the melodramatic, which is silly, and needs to be worked on, but I also think, ive done enough pretty heinous stuff in my life. That if I get caught for a, its kismet for doing b or c.

Betrayed you…
i give a lot of rope for them to hang themselves, partially b/c of jesus’ 70x7 commandment, partially because I don’t think that I’m worthy, partially b/c I have been forgiven so often for betraying others, and also because of much of what I assume to be betrayal is a paranoid fantasy…so caution, is caution a feeling here?