This second draft is already taunting me; I wrote such an eloquent piece not but one week ago, only to have it smitten by the hand of poor internet connection and erased from the database in one swift motion like none of it mattered in the first place. Well. Chances are it didn’t matter anyways–my thoughts are but thoughts and not motions for change or solutions to world problems; they are merely my thoughts. And that, alas, is usually the conclusion to all my ‘eloquent pieces.’ Nonetheless, since the thoughts are mine, I have full reign to use and abuse them with language and exercise analytical tools to mold them into what I think are constructive and interesting blurbs for the public to point and laugh at. So, without further adieu, I’ll keep wasting your time with an effort to recreate (and hopefully revamp) my lost genius.
I have been caught in a world of judgment. This is an odd place for me to be in, since I’ve never lived here nor have I ever wanted to move here. It’s a strange land really, filled with criticism and disdain and generally dark and muted colors, which if you ask me suits no one in this beautiful weather we’re having. What the fuck are you talking about, Rachel? One might ask. Ah, but don’t you always? What I mean to say, or what I say to mean, is that I’ve been judging every mother fucking person around me like it’s my righteous duty.
This is the part where I go through a self discovery through deep writing and pretentious punctuation in order to uncover the true meaning behind my judgmental bitchiness, but since I already wrote this blog and I have a head start, let’s cut the bullshit.
I have this notion that everyone aspires to be a good person. In my twisted, sexy, super smart, mysterious, genius, hot, awe-inspiring (dare I go on?) mind, the people around me and the ones I haven’t met and all else that is holy are on a quest for benevolence. So, in consequence to this way of thinking, I perceive people’s actions as either intention or neglect to being good. Now, before I move forward in my authority to deem who’s actin’ good and who’s not, let me define ‘good,’ for this is where my second error lies. Next to assuming everyone strives to be ‘good,’ I’ve assumed everyone’s definition of good is equivalent to mine. So, just so you all know what I’m talking about, I will define Rachel’s Good:
Rachel’s Good adjective (ræ/chülz/gŭd) : Generally compassionate, attentive to other’s needs, considerate and timely, generous and selfless, kind and understanding (especially when bitches are going through PMS and they be rippin’ hoes heads off ‘n shit), inviting and unjudgmental, fair and willing to compromise, philanthropic and honest, and of course, hot and sexy. Example: “Rachel Godbe is so good.”
Everybody get the gist? Here’s the thing: I’m not all good—according to me. I suppose for myself, Rachel’s Good is what I aspire to be, so when I’m not up to standard with one of my all holy traits, I get out of flux. I.E. I put myself in a pickle by using my own idea of perfection against me: I’m being a judgmental slut. In such a Rachel-like cyclical-sick manner, I’ve imposed my idea of ‘goodness’ on everyone around me and used severe judgement as a means to do so. Well, congratulations dummy, because now not only are those around you not Rachel’s Good like you so irrationally want them to be, but neither are you, and that’s the real problem.
Yesterday I spent an hour with a student at Romeo & Juliet rehearsal working a monologue in which Shakespeare so brilliantly writes, “Thy wit, that ornament to shape and love, Mis-shapen in the conduct of them both, Like powder in a skilless soldier’s flask, Is set a-fire by thine own ignorance, and thou dismember’d with thine own defence.” Alas an old white guy once again has prophesied mine own demise; that my wit–my mind–the very thing that I hold so dear and value over everything else (yes, even over my stunning figure and adorable chuckle), is the one and only thing that gets in my way; I use it against myself. Why oh why do I do this? Why do I preach a way of being and then so blatantly accuse other people of disobeying an imaginary set of ideals I created, when by making such accusations I’m shattering these ideals myself? What hypocrisy! Lunacy! Heresy! Dare say! Drag race! What I do believe occurs in this magical place that I call my brain, is that where I unconsciously lack an ideal/moral/value/whathaveyou that I hope to see in myself in constant–i.e. the metabolic resting state of my moral being—I subconsciously impose this lack of character on those around me, finding flaw where they might also not be so ‘good’ so that I’m not the only fuck up.
That’s pretty un-good of me. I have to remind myself that in any relationship, any interaction (with my students, my roommate, the woman who I call about my insane Comcast bill, the guy I shoot heroin with in the alley behind my triplex, or the bitch who’s throat I cut cos she touched my main man), I can behave at %100 of my ‘good’ capacity, and their choice to reciprocate is their own and I should respect it; not only that, but I should be open and aware to the fact that not everyone’s reciprocation will emulate or mirror my ‘good.’ In fact, the majority of the people I come in contact with on a daily basis have priorities far different than mine and I can’t expect them to operate with similar intentions as me. Sort of like Hitler. Just kidding. But not really.
And here I find myself where I always do at the end of a brain dissection: Sometimes I go for weeks without zooming out; I forget to take a step back and remember how much easier it is to just open my mind and accept what’s going on around me. I filter and I filter and sift through events deciphering every detail until I conclude that the world is out to get me and my brain will set on fire if I don’t escape from it. One day-luckily-I remember to step back and say, “this is just your life. It’s nothing more complicated than that.”