Week 6 of 52 in the rebuilding of Ben Quam

Saturday, October 9 2010

"A Bottle and Fresh Horses"

This is the first week that I don't have to drive to Minnesota to get anything. I feel like mom's trying to take my safety blanket, and I can't nap without it. Going back to the cities kept all of this feeling like it wasn't for real, more like camp. But this is real. Life here is real, the bar is real, and the people here are real.

There's little things here that make me feel like I'm home too...the river, when the wind moves right, gives off the same smell that the sewers on Washington Ave. and Portland Ave. do, people all suck at driving, and surprisingly I've met quite a few Twins and Vikings fans. This brings me to my next point:

I MOVE AWAY AND THE VIKINGS GET RANDY MOSS BACK??

Jeez, I'm out of it for a little while and everyone gets delusions of grandeur. Now all I hear is "Super Bowl this" and "Best team on paper that" while we ignore the 4th post-season dismantling of the Minnesota Twins by the New York (hacks, spits) Yankees. I don't know what it is about that damn team, but they're in our heads. I wanna kick and scream and bitch and cry about it, but I think sadly we all know how that feels.

There's things in this world that will always be in the back of our heads, and it's up to us to rise above them before they drag us down. All the advice in the world from every caring friend out there won't do a damn bit of good if we can't find our own boot straps and give 'em a tug. My big hang up right now is living up to my potential, and the lofty goals that I'm trying to hold myself to. I admit that every day at one point or another I call myself a failure. One part of my brain knows that's not true, but another is just as adamant that it is. Therein lies the struggle. I'm really good at what I do, but it's never enough. I'm flying to Vegas on Friday to film some short films, but I'm not in Hollywood NOW. This is the self-defeating struggle that I deal with.

The saddest part is that my life isn't really that bad. I look at my cousin who is also going through a divorce, but has two kids and a lot more anger to feel the brunt of. I have no idea where her strength comes from...she's a borderline superhero, while I sit at my computer typing away the blog equivalent of a pop punk song. Or even my homegirl Meesh here, working 50 hours a week and single mom-ing it to a beautiful, amazing 2 year old. I watched her take a lecture about how daughters from single-parent homes grow up to be whores and that nuclear family was the American way, and she just smiled and walked away. She's smarter and stronger than that, and knows that if you let that shit (literally, shit) get into your brain, you'll end up with a head full of Louisiana Gulf shore.

Whatever your mental hang ups are, they aren't real. Part of this whole therapy thing for me is reminding myself of that very fact. We project on ourselves, and if we start to believe any of it, fiction becomes fact in the blink of an eye. I don't ever wish a loss like mine on anyone, but I'm so thankful for this experience. I'm so excited to, for lack of a better metaphor, use the same ingredients and yet put out a much better product.

So go Twins, and go Purple. Go "people slogging through hardships", and go "people who are loving life." I'm donning my white Gameday Favre jersey, I'm going to a Packer bar on Monday night, and I'm just going to sit and smile. No failure there, 'cause all we do is WIN WIN WIN NO MATTER WHAT!

I hope we're all toasting each other with a smile from all corners of the world. Skol!

I love you like I love saying "Favre to Moss for the 57-yard touchdown!"
BQ