This guy I know, Butcher Bradley, won't post my dreams even though he specifically asked me to share some for his blog. I suppose it's because my dreams are more interesting than his and that would emasculate his dreams. I'll be posting the coherent dreams I have here, as well as everyday thoughts. I've never blogged before, other than the occasional post on the modern relic Myspace some years ago. The mental illness still applies of course.
Day 1: Listening
Something I've found to be difficult to come by is a person who really listens.
There's a scene in the film Fight Club where the Narrator is explaining to Marla why he fakes terminal illnesses in support group meetings. He says that when people think you're dying, they really listen to you, rather than waiting for their turn to speak.
All too often I get that feeling from the way someone's body moves the air or how they are looking, or not looking at me while I'm talking.
Recently I had a close personal friend of mine, a teacher, talk at me about my issues and why I'm failing so wonderfully in school. She wouldn't stop even for a moment to let me explain myself. This person has always been on my side and looked for the best in me, but that doesn't stop her from being judgmental. I know my faults, I know why I fail, but at this point it really doesn't matter.
It had been a long and taxing day when this little conversation transpired, and when she dropped me off at home after an hour's worth of driving and talking, I went to my room and completely lost it. My only relief was a friend who called me up on Skype and listened to my desperate, exhausted weeping until I fell asleep. I'm sure that he didn't know what to say about my night but it felt good to just have someone listen rather than wait for his turn to speak.
In conclusion, Butcher Bradley hates me forever and Fight Club's da best.