Don't Panic / Grace in Small Things / Wellness

Of Lifestyle, Dates, and a bit of Fluff to Sprinkle on Top

One of my many problems with living in Kansas City (Independence if we are going to be exact) has been a severe lack of “my kind of people”.  I didn’t think of it like that at the start of course, I have never been the Goth who must only associate with Goths or anything like that.  I just knew I missed…something.  Of course I missed my friends and my family, but I have spent my LIFETIME missing those things.  An Air Force brat learns to pen pal, e-mail, and let go early on; otherwise the hurt of friends moving every two years is a constant wound.  I still keep in Morgaine-Brand contact with all of my friends.  This is random e-mails and text messages and the act of picking up conversations days, weeks, and occasionally months later.  I don’t tend to call or say anything to people unless I have something to say, and all my close friends know that this does not diminish the love I feel for them just because they don’t hear from me daily.

I recently drug Sacco to see The Devil’s Carnival.  He spent the ENTIRE time just staring at the screen and the audience, wondering “what the fuck is going on here?” and generally not really enjoying himself at all.  People were dressed as various carnies, his wife had dug out her spiked dog collar, and these people were on stage who were apparently famous…and he was boggled.  The disappointment I felt with my husband not getting something SO AWESOME was balanced out by a surge of feeling that made me OK with living here.  Finally.  I saw “my people”.  I saw people who were amazingly Goth dressed in outfits I would DIE to have the money for, people who were obvious metal heads, hell….just everyone in the Repo Army as it were.  They sang and danced and made this movie experience a bit of a home coming for me.  I did not need to feel alone in KC anymore.  I don’t want to rush out and force these people to be my friends; I just needed them to EXIST.

I am OK.  I am OK living here.  I am OK with my doctor’s here, who are TRULY a hell of a team working on my brain and self-image.  I am OK with the house we are in the process of buying.  I am OK with my family growing.  I am OK with saying home is wherever my family is together, instead of just saying we live in fucking Misery.

With my newest sense of OK, comes a level of ease with life.  Remember, this is MY level of ease, which is everyone else’s level of keyed way too fucking high.  I still have OCD freak outs.  I still have panic attacks that come complete with repressed events.  But, Sacco and I have started to go on dates again.  To places WITH LOTS OF OTHER PEOPLE.  This…tended to be impossible earlier in our lives.

Last night we went to a Comedy Club.  We did not really know much about the stand up style of the main act; I knew he was adorable and I got two tickets for $4 (sign up for promotional e-mails, ya’ll.  Date night will RULE from that point forward).   The first guy blew (as always) and the second chick Erin Jackson was funny as HELL.  I loved her.  Her set TOTALLY needed to be longer.  The headliner Tommy Davidson…not so much.  When he stuck to funny shit it was amazing, but he did this thing I HATE.  I HATE it when over half of an act is “this is what black people do” and the rest is “this is what white people do”.  So, I was in a comedy club, listening to an act I really did not like, surrounded by people shouting about how it was all true.  This would have spelled absolute panic and a possible graceless escape a year ago.  This time, I sat and smiled and waited for the funny bits.  Progress.  Win.

For the record: I REALLY hate it when a comic asks “who here voted for Obama” and then follows it up with “awww…look at all the white people pretending!”.  That makes me wanna punch you in the face JUST AS MUCH as the weird racist jokes I hear about the “horrible” things going on in the White House.  One echoes segregation as much as the other in my opinion.  Flame me till I am no longer pink in the middle, but I feel that one is just as fucked up as the other.

AND NOW SOME FLUFF!  I got tickets to Rockfest here in KC.  So I am running off to that as soon as Sacco gets home.  I wanna see Hell Yeah soooooo bad.

Have a kick ass weekend, my friends…


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