I’m sort of down on myself lately. I write something then I look at it, I turn it upside down, I dissect it, I picture it being read by someone who knows me and I think

Yeah right, you’re full of shit

I fear saying something argumentative or incorrect. I fear sounding phony when really EVERYTHING will eventually sound phony if you think about it too much. It’s like playing that word game where you say a word over and over again, and it starts to sound absurd. The same can be done with thought. And it damn near cripples me at times.

So what is real? What can be a certain idea? I watched Audition on Saturday. It’s a Japanese film about a woman who has a terrible past and is completely deranged because of it. She cuts off a man’s feet with a small bone saw and stabs him with acupuncture needles. You’re not sure if it’s a dream (like that of a David Lynch film) or if it’s real and the director intentionally leaves it that way. While she’s acting out these acts of gore, she says something along the lines of,

Pain can be trusted

While, I feel, the film may appeal to perverts (who are a step up on level triple porn) and people who (still) aren’t totally tired of ‘shock value,’ this is not the point. The point she made, that I agree with (and have thought about A LOT as of late), is that pain is one of the only things I can’t seem to let my mind undo (so to speak). If it physically hurts, I can’t talk myself out of it. Anything else can be deduced to false, or at the very least, the lowest divisible of the original problem. When the problem is based totally on emotions and/or learned behavior by way of one’s past it can be reduced, not forgotten (hence my battle) but reduced.

It’s driving me mad.

Is this why


  1. Sounds like you’re in a rut (please don’t be saying “no shit.”) All I can say is that your thoughts sound normal to me, and I don’t think you’re crazy. You’re just verbalizing it, which many don’t do.

    And if you ask me, I think it’s hard for women to think they deserve good things in their lives. I don’t know why it happens, but it pretty much explains why we end up either doing shitty things to ourselves (ie. continuously staying in a job we hate) or dating bad men. It’s not the easiest to stand up tall and be “the bitch” every now and then.


  2. i dunno if i just overstepped my grounds by saying that, or if I was totally off from the point you were making. Either way, if i did, sorry ‘bout that.


  3. you’re a teeny bit new to mihow…..

    Rule number 1 is be honest.

    Rule number 2 is NEVER ever do you have to apologize. All is good. :)

    (unless you’re just being mean, which you’re not. But then I just pay a visit to the person’s home and I throw poo at them).


  4. Poo. Bwa ha ha ha.
    Sounds good.


  5. You can even be a former frat guy!



    Mihow, you actually raise a good point about petty little problems. I won’t say anymore because I have no clue about the context.

    Instead I’ll go put on my baseball cap backwards and funnel a beer.


  6. ALIAS GUY!!!!

    You rule.

    Gimme some of that funnel, boy. Want a jell-o shot? Let’s play beer pong.


  7. Mmmm. Jello shot. Most dangerous thing in existence. From eating dessert to stumbling around like a fool in one hour.

    I lived w/6 guys in a house senior year with a beer pong table. Productive times.

    Lesson = alcohol is always the answer (well, until you hit 30 and hangovers begin to really suck).


  8. You big dork

    did you play Asshole too? I bet you did. I bet you played “Asshole” AND “I never” :)


  9. First rule of – Don’t talk about

    Second rule of – Don’t talk about

    Things can only get better, my dear. It’s almost time to go to the beach. I am hoping for some Mihow time, sitting on the deck watching the sun go down, sucking down Coronas and eating good food and laughing like idiots.


  10. Indeed. Good times will be had by all.

    And it appears I still have my vacation time. ;)

    You may need to smash my head with said corona bottle a few times, but otherwise, paint me there and silly.


  11. Played asshole once or twice. I never played I never. Really.

    Hey, I went to school in a very small and rural town. It wasn’t like I was passing up the opera. Or even a cool concert.

    But no. I didn’t go cow tipping (Heathers flashback).


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