024. Work, the second.

17Jan08

Yeah, in case no one’s noticed, most of the recent titles have been the names of songs. Typically one heard as I write the entry. If there’s no music, it’s either a place I’m at, a one-word summery of the entry or something said in overheard conversation.

Unfortunately, the phone isn’t ringing and the only people who’ve stopped by the office have been small children wanting to use the phone. I never thought I’d long for busy work, but here I am. This is my second deskjob, and all I can think is that at least I had something to DO. Hopefully when postcards go out I’ll feel like I’m being paid for DOING something, rather than being paid to read my email. I’m strange- I like being paid when I actually due work, kay thanks.

Boredom has set in. The room is cold, my lullaby-lyrics for Theory has hit a rather persistent wall*, that clock is ticking rather loudly, snow is on the road while my dad is driving to another funeral**, I have no clue how to console people AT ALL, and did I mention it’s cold?

*Read as: it sounds funky and not in a good way. I can’t figure out how to get the same idea across while following the syllables set down. Basically, “tomorrow is a new day” in seven syllables, the last word rhyming with sweet. Which also may change. That entire verse is in flux.
**His Aunt Penny. I didn’t really know her, but she was a great lady according to tad. He’s doing the five hour drive now, despite the weather.

Things that happened today are very much minimal. Besides the parts with my mom, possible the most entertaining woman I know.

Pip: *gets off bus*
Pip: *walking up and down marketstreet, bundled up and thoughtful*
Pip: … ?
Blue Vibe: *ish parked*
Pip: *gets closer look at license plate*
Plate: *ish my mom’s*
Pip: Hmm.
Pip: *proceeds to write, in the snow on the car windows, “I LOVE YOU MOMMY” and variations of the sentiment. Including hearts and smilies*
Pip: *walks away whistling*
-At the coffeeshop-
Mom: *comes in with a huge smile on her face*
Mom: So. Didn’t know you’d be downtown.
Pip: Yep. *sips latte*
Mom: …I loved my car.
Pip: *grins*
Mom: This guys passed by me, and he saw it and honked, and I gestured frantically, trying to say “My kid did this! I’m LOVED!”

The perks of living in a small town. This was also a nice payback for the time I thought she was in Elmira, and then, after taking a random turn down an alley on an unplanned trip to Market Street THERE WAS MY MOTHER. Sitting in her car in the parking lot facing me. In an alley. Serious twilight zone.

-Getting out at Cedar-
Mom: Hey!
Pip: *looks up*
Mom: *throws snowball*
Pip: *sputters* You have gloves! Not fair!
Mom: *evil grin*
Pip: *makes a small snowball with her hands*
Pip: *throws. Lands in mom’s unprotected collar*
Mom: GAH. COOLD. I call foul! *sputtering*
Pip: *laughs* Turnabout…
Mom: Hmph. You’re a rotten daughter!
Pip: You’re a rotten mother!
Mom: *gasps* I am not! I’m a WONDERFUL mother!
Pip: I’m a wonderful daughter!
Mom: True.
-hug, go our separate ways-

Oh, yes. Hugs. New topic!

I am a touchy person. Anyone who meets me knows that. I will try and respect your space if that’s what you want, but the second I get permission I will hug. This being the case, it’s not unusual for me to be hugging multiple people on a short walk to class. The thing that stood out yesterday, though, was the types of hugs.

-There’s the brief, minimal hug, the kind where they’re hugging you to make you happy. They’d be perfectly content without contact, but feel somewhat obligated to hug you back. It’s not unwilling by any degree- simply not their cup of tea.
-There’s the hello how-are-you hug. This is enthusiastic but short, just hug-release. Contact various from arms/shoulders to a full hug. This can be between anyone.
-The you-need-a-hug-I’m here. Can be short or long, done in the middle of conversation or whenever it is needed. Really, just to say that the person has an ear if they want.
-The standing-hug. The kind that starts as a hug but ends up with an arm around shoulders, walking or standing as the two catch up. Typically done by good friends who stay to talk.
-There’s my sister’s hug. As my dad put it, she “meshes”. It’s a full hug that will last until you break it. Can be painful, never “sad”
-The attack-hug. Where the force of it winds you/ knocks you back/causes pain. Is enthusiastic, sometimes a “OMGIHAVEN’TSEENYOUINFOREVER”. Sometimes people always hug that way, which causes bruises for their friends.
-There’s a billion other hugs and variations on hugs that it’s endless. All of the mentioned have occurred today/yesterday, aside from my sister’s.

The hug that alarmed me and caused this rant: The I-need hug. Full body ‘meshing’, to the point where there is no distance. (Note: Not sexual or creepy. Very, very childlike). I was alarmed because, simply by a hug, I could tell something was wrong. It wasn’t much different. she hugs like my sister, so the mesh factor is always present. It wasn’t painful or tight, just- desperate. Not letting go and needing to stay in contact for as long as possible.

I don’t know how to help her, and I hate it. I’ve never cut. I’ve thought of it, yes. I can understand it from a limited perspective. But- I do ink. I draw intricate designs that are a part of me and a symbol and that give me the release I need. From boredom or pain.

And when people know what they are doing, I actually don’t mind. My opinion. Their bodies, their lives. They scars have meaning to them, and they go on with life. It’s the people who have no clue what they’re doing, who are crying and desperate and feel alone and need an escape and can’t figure out any other way, the ones who don’t understand themselves or their limits or even their body- them, I object to. It’s one thing to slice yourself on tiles for a project. It’s another thing to slash your arm with a fucking pencil and not get anything, anything at all, out of it. It’s another thing to be addicted.

I don’t know how to help. I’ll keep giving her a hug, listening every day I can, and judging her day by how she hugs. She has professional help. She has parental “support” (no clue if they’re helping, but it’s there) And she has many good days. I’m worrying about the bad ones now. It’s really up to her to pull herself out of the damned thing, to stop making excuses and tough it out. Not easy. Not easy to watch. Hopefully it’ll all work out.

Jazz is pouring through the thinnish walls, and the temperature feels like it’s dropped again. Joy. Better do some sort of round.

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5 Responses to “024. Work, the second.”

  1. 1 raalla

    hey Pippin! I’ve been lurking on your blag since…a long time (whenever Leah linked to you)…and figured I ought to comment by now, also because I have something to say now…I remember once this summer in batik you said you wanted to be able to say it was bad, but you couldn’t, because you didn’t believe it. I see you believing “slashing your arm with a fucking pencil and not getting anything, anything at all, out of it” is bad, and that makes much sense…but what about being addicted? I mean. generally addictions are bad. but we get ourselves to that place, so…just wondering because I’m confused.

    -rachel

  2. *hugs* Hey Rachel! And, well, it’s complicated (what isn’t?). it varies person-to-person. Addictions, in general, are “bad”, mostly because you can’t stop yourself when you mentally know you’re at your limit. Yet, at the same time, I feel that it’s your life and if you understand what you’re doing, I have no right to stop you.

    The person I’m talking about in the post is decidedly addicted, and is seeking help, asking us to stop her. She sometimes gets that she’s doing it for attention, sometimes fails to remember. In general, it’s not terribly healthy, and by asking for help and trying/failing, she’s effectively given permission for me to try and stop her.

    And, yet, I can honestly say I don’t have an issue with it. It’s like piercing, or other body modifications, when done with intent and knowledge. Not a popular idea, but hey. My opinion. An addiction where you can pull yourself back from the edge and recover isn’t the same as the addiction that runs of cliffs. That restraint makes it more of an informed choice, the display of willpower. Again, it’s individual by individual, case by case.

    Hope that clarified something, doll!

  3. 3 raalla

    much so. mwah!

  4. 4 bylandl

    I would like to add:

    the this-is-going-to-turn-into-a-kiss-just-be-patient hug, complete with slow head turning

    the hug that, when you come out of, you’re still holding the other person’s elbows, and s/he’s holding yours

    the hug-of-general-joy, administered when a friend gets home from somewhere or you’ve done something awesome together, the kind that happens at airports, and backstage

    the ever-present “congratulations” hug

    *hug*

  5. *hugs back*

    The internet hug where you can’t actually hug but want to send the same love and comfort as a touch.

    And the first hug you mentioned is so. damned. amazing.


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