I stand on tip toe when using the can opener. I don’t know why. I have to assume my body has an innate sense on how this enhances my upper noodle strength and why the hell would I allow my brain to interfere?
Consider the relationship between intelligence and culpability. Am I the only one thinking no fair? No worries...there's always the insanity defense. Maybe smarter does mean guiltier. Maybe guiltier means crazier. I can't believe guiltier is a fucking word. Ridiculouser.
I once had a 4.0 report card where the teacher still couldn’t resist adding “not working up to her full potential.” and “needs to improve time management” in the comments section. Now there’s a mind fuck for a kid; don’t you think?
There‘s this unrelenting pressure in me. This rigid spine of right my muscles and soft tissue can’t escape. I’ve always had that. As long as I can remember anyway. It’s not just about “right” it’s about potential and debt. This longing for approval made bitter with the desire to be free of it has colored my entire life. I can’t seem to shake it or make it my own. You can’t abandon your bones but they can leave you a pile of mush.
February 28, 2010
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