The blackout poem is a perfect metaphor for most of my social interactions these days. I don’t know very many people here and most people I meet, I meet for work or through poetry related venues for some sort of pointed purpose. Read: I am working for them, volunteering for them, doing bitch work for them, need them to like me to keep me on with them, need mo money, etc. poetry venues or dating venues. whatever.
Basically, I have to package myself and prove myself with the packaging, and expect to be judged on first impressions of whether or not I’ve succesfully proved myself as intelligent and capable and sociable and fun to be around well rounded package with a bow. and a cherry. and whipped cream you can lick off. won’t even make you fat, Swear On My Life.
its all motherfucking exhausting.
Think of me as a page crossing the parts of myself off that I anticipate won’t interest you. Think of me as a drunken blog post I delete half of the next day for quality assurance and embarrasment avoidance purposes. For each new interaction, I pick and choose what text what information what personality to showcase, arrange it just so, and voila, ready to order personality, lets get down to business. DO you like me, huh, huh, huh? Are you picking up what Im putting down? ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME?
The point is trying to make someone care enough about you to invest their time listening to you which then leads to job offers or mentorship. The best way to ensure either of these is by chance meeting or long time confidence. Hence the incalculable value of THE CONNECTION.
Connections and Making Connections is not nearly as corrupt and fucked up as I originally thought it to be. Sure, it can be abused in the form of handouts or undeserving foot holds…but most of the time, connection based decision making makes sense. Es La Confianza. A decision based on connections means the person you’re investing in does not want to swindle you, but is, in fact, obligated to you personally from the get go.
If I prove myself as a consistent, relentless poetry freak in the poetry communities of Seattle…people will take notice. Eventually. I go to these things because they are the one true consistent joy of my entire life. and this will become a connection of sorts. Even if Im not licking the bootlaces of some hotshot poet fuck. Connections mean consistency and a reliable social contract. I can get on board that. I need to work in an environment where there is poetry. Wherever there is poetry and art, there is happiness. I want to be happy. I am most creatively productive when I am happy. I am absolutely the happiest when I am sharing beauty found in poetry and art and music with people I love. LOGIC for the non-logic brained. I think it makes sense.
Either way, the process of MAKING YOUR OWN CONNECTIONS is like making a blackout poem. its about making someone pay attention. its about intrigue. its about making a scrap doll of yourself with a small pile of cuttings.
and a lot of the time, people will pay attention to less than 10% of what you have to say. Because Who The Fuck Are You? So you better make it count. but not like a blow hard. BUT MAKE IT COUNT.
Since most of these interactions necessitate ME PROVING MYSELF AND MY WORTH AND MY QUALITY AND MY NOT TALKING OUT OF MY ASS-NESS
any real live friend making or date going has this one deal breaker for me: I WILL NOT PROVE MYSELF TO YOU. I have nothing to prove. I know what I know and I treat people the way I treat people and I look for the good in every single person I meet, and if you don’t do the same for me, I don’t have fucking time and energy for it. THE END. fuck you.
This is a recent adjustment to my life style. This is a necessary adjustment. In my family, we’re constantly neurotically proving our worth to each other and to the world…and quite simply, its EXHAUSTING. I expunge this maniacal instinct for affirmation via accomplishment. I don’t need or want to conquer the entire world. Just most of it.