Reflections

I'm watching Margaret Cho's stand-up DVD I'm The One That I Want and it got me to think about myself. Like I don't do that enough already. But really, I started thinking a little more instead of my usually surface skimming that gets me no where.

When it comes to rules and boundaries I tend to get claustrophobic. I just don't follow well. It's like telling a blind kid to color inside the lines. It's nearly impossible.

I live in an apartment, as most people my age do. I have the same rules as most apartments. No painting, no holes in the walls, no re-flooring (This was added as I asked since the flooring is a dark brown carpet), etc. Well I tend to be artistic and feel that I need somewhere I can just let it out.

So I have a wall. It's in my living room. It's a decent size. It is completely covered in posters, photos, random quotes, condoms, ads from Germany, hotel room cards, etc. I find it beautiful, like a years worth of living.

It is held up mostly with staples. There is some tape, thumb tacks, and glue also, but mostly staples. That is alot of staples.

I'm not sure what would happen if my landlord decided to take a tour of my apartment. I would probably shit myself. I could just imagine a surprise visit. I would probably start rambling about how I found it and it wasn't me.

"Seriously, I was cleaning one day and was scrubbing REALLY hard! I mean, white was coming off everywhere. Then I saw pictures coming through so I kept going. This was there. I don't have a clue where it came from. You should talk to your repair men about this. It looks like they just painted over it. Besides, that wall was made by a faggot. I ain't no faggot. Ignore those picture in the bottom left...."

I would be saying this while shoving a hand down my pants, itching my arm pit, and spitting.

That's what happens when I'm put on the spot. These outlandish things just flow from my mouth.

Boss: Why are you late?
Myself: There was road construction in front of my apartment. Then some homeless guy walked in from of a cement truck. The driver slammed on the brakes which caused the cement barrel lever to come loose. It tipped over and started spilling on the brand new BMW behind him. The homeless man was apparently drunk because he wobbled over to the BMW and asked for change while the woman was screaming about being in labor. I had no clue what to do. Luckily, I took those classes on delivering babies and cement clean up, so it was all taken care of. But I know, that was irresponsible, I should have come straight to work. I'll know better next time....

But back to boundaries and rules. They are not for me. Even with relationships. I know nothing about these so called boundaries. On first dates I will poke his penis while at IHOP. I move across the country for boys I meet online. We could mention that "online" is code for Myspace, but that would make me look even more sad and pathetic.

I also tend to be clingy. So when one is clingy, one doesn't respect boundaries. One doesn't even know they exist. Boundaries to a clingy person are like car seat manuals to Britney Spears. They might as well be in Portuguese because you know the bitch isn't reading them. No see, boundaries to me are far too confining. But if you do have boundaries, you best know that my ass will be inside your boundaries too.

I sit here and admits these faults. I realize this. But don't tell me I don't know rules or boundaries. Don't punish me for not following them either. Do not write me a ticket. So what? I barely ran that red light! I will bitch and complain about it until it goes away. And then when it does, I will tell you how screwed up the it is that it happened in the first place. Don't tell me I complain too much.

Oh no. Do not do that.

I will go Naomi Campbell crazy on your ass. But it won't be a dainty little cell phone coming at your head.

No.

I will be throwing a telephone booth in your direction. Because, not only do I not understand rules and boundaries, I also do not like to be corrected.

I have also been told I can be a tad bit crazy. But I just blame that on my gayness...