Blankslate

http://blankslate.tumblr.com/post/45315941069/what-it-is-like-to-live-with-an-anxiety-disorder

Mixing Heroes with Humans

I wanted a hero so bad, I wanted someone to remain that mythic figure forever.   Someone who tumbled through life, never took a straight path to success.  This in and of itself seemed the straight path; Living a life that was open and raw to the complexities of being human. Not just stoically moving forward for the sake of moving forward because going back was either useless, futile, or not acceptable.  As much as I'd admired and felt utterly and completely eclipsed by people like that-admittedly I, more or less, admired anyone who wasn't myself-theirs' was not a life I could identify with, therefore somehow that disqualified them from being a hero to me, which is probably fucked up on some level.  Awe-inspiring and memoir worthy, yes, but I preferred my heroes to be unpredictable and  volatile, personifying a life I felt I thought could only exist in movies. A glorified character interrupted version- a life I kind of thought stopped for me when I submitted to therapy.  Characters, my heroes were characters.  

I guess my problem is separating reality from fiction.  Endlessly, and rabidly searching for movie characters for my heroes.  An Icarus complex?-or the Hollywood version of an Icarus complex. No, there is nobility in my heroes. Hollywood isn't noble.  To play the game was not noble, my hero didn't play games, at least not in my eyes. Skirting the edge of fame, but rejecting it because it somehow didn't feel human or right or just.  They were noble and had a heart. If fame found them, so be it, but they weren't human enough to let it phase them and plague them for to too long.  Walking to the edge, basically (maybe) falling off, and then getting back up and walking back to point A.  A little worse for the wear and wrinkled, but back where they started, physically, none the less.

But being both a human and a hero is a tangled web.  I learned a lesson there. I guess that's the rock star thing...but there's Hollywood again...maybe beating the system was infiltrating, dispatching, and destroying from the inside.  Being a human in the pod people.

We know major toms a junkie

Cellar Door

I tend to be a rather serious person.  However, when I find something amusing I hold on to it and cackle hysterically and randomly for hours. Even carrying the little guy with me for weeks and months at a time. He pops out and whispers into my ear, and pretty soon I'm holding my stomach in laughter in aisle 3 of the supermarket.  A true child fueled by the fire of self help, leaning on my self prescribed behavioral therapy, I muse "Amelia, is this desire to hold onto amusing thoughts some sort of reflection of your inherent vessel of sadness?  Has this thought become some sort of pirate, sent to hijack the U.S.S. Melancholy?!"

And then I just think, nah, your probably just being too serious, pick up some onions and continue walking.