Get a job.

Or go on, go on, go on

If you were thinking that the worst is yet to come

Why am I the one always packing up my stuff?

For once, for once, for once

I get the feeling that I'm right where I belong

Why am I the one always packing up my stuff? ~ Fun

The other day I told my significant other that I had had a dream wherein I was, once again, having to look for a place to live.

In the dream, I was begging a girl much more well off than I was to let me be her roommate. I was attempting to persuade her that, while I could not afford to pay her anything close to the going rate in rent, wouldn't it be "better than nothing" to get a small bit of cash from me per month?

You should know that, prior to meeting my boyfriend, my life had been quite precarious for quite some time. It's the price I have paid for being idealistic, I guess you could say, and for wanting to be in the right relationship and the right job. But it has taken a toll.

I woke up full of the insecurity that dream had represented, aware, for the nth time, of how easily my life would crash if anything happened to upset the balance I now have, and which I and everyone know is in great part due to my moving in with my boyfriend.

When I told said boyfriend how scared I was of what would happen to me if anything happened to him, he first asked, "Why?" - which in itself was a bit of an astounding question; and second he said, as a solution, "Just get a job."

Now folks, I have multiple jobs. I do not have a full-time job. The reason I do not have a full-time job is a) due to personal choice of what would be the best style of living for me, after working my a$$ off in a multitude of jobs since I was 12 years old or earlier and b) because my s.o. told me my happiness was the most important thing to him; and so, we decided, together, it would be acceptable for me to leave my last full-time job and begin picking up "gig work" that made me more happy.

It worked. And I'm doing okay, money-wise. But I have no insurance. And if something were to happen to my boyfriend, this lovely life he has made possible for me would disappear. I could not afford to pay for the condo where we live.

I would be back to square one, which is square nowhere.

I couldn't believe how fast my s.o. was to relegate me back to that position in his mind. The very happiness and security that he has provided for me - and which he said was so important to him to provide to me - he saw no problem with that dissolving immediately in his absence. Or he could not imagine that this is exactly what would happen. That my life would plummet. "Getting a job" in the sense that he meant it would in fact ruin the solace I currently have. Honestly, I would not want to live if living meant going back to the "rat race." Yes, of course, that is a viable, practical option - and I have said it myself to others. "Get a job." But to me, that is anathema to everything I value at this point in my life. To have my life be owned again by someone else. To spend all of my time working to make that person wealthier, while I remain in the lower tiers, just making ends meet, and too tired and distracted to do anything for myself.

Like the entire rest of my life up until now.

Do you know what would happen to my boyfriend if I left? Sure, he would miss me. But the worst thing that would happen to his situation is that he wouldn't know where to find anything. That's it. Not being able to locate some pot or pan in the kitchen would be his biggest hardship. The rest of his life, his finances, his job, his spending, would remain exactly the same. In fact, better, of course, because he would no longer be living with me.

My s.o. has a good job - but he has no life insurance and no 401K. He has never thought about that those types of things exist not just for us but to help others when we pass. Or, due to his own experience so far, he doesn't think that someone's passing is that dramatic, financially.

While he has agreed that the condo is mine should he go, he has not added me to his insurance and has not created any kind of safety net, for either one of of us. He has told me that, because of the state of my finances, he does not yet want to marry me. Which I understand. It's scary. And yes, agreeing that I could stay here in his condo is a heart-warming, generous move; however, the actual logistics are that I would be strapped for the months wherein I had to pay the mortgage, trickling away major chunks of what I have managed to save, until I could sell, and then unable to find a decent place I could afford anyway. I can see myself just selling and fucking disappearing.

So today, I'm feeling this mixed message. From this person that actively demonstrates how much he loves me and yet, when posed a certain way, his answer to the question of my existence without him is just for me to return to what my life was like before we met.

Perhaps I fear too much. I know that my boyfriend loves me. I know he is doing everything he feels is right, at this juncture, to help me feel secure, happy, and loved. My fear, my insecurity, my financial problems - my bias that men have it "better" - none of that is his fault, nor his responsibility. I know that he doesn't "own" me. I know I am free.

And I know that he has given me the wonderful gift of breathing room, the chance for me to get my act together so that, if ever anything does happen to him - heavens forbid - I will be okay.

Perhaps love is exactly what makes everything work out in the end.

You can't unsee that

You can't unsee things.

This is probably one of the main tenets of my life.

Say what you will. I firmly believe that our brain records every single thing that we see. There is some research that corroborates this. I'm not going to find it for you, but it's there. It's part of how dreams can be explained. All the weird shit and random people. It's not random at all. It's something or someone you saw during the day. And you don't remember. But your brain does.

It's why I hate movie previews on TV and think that horror movie previews, especially, should have a warning at the beginning. I object to being subjected, against my will and without any notice, to alarming and disgusting imagery. Because it doesn't go away. Ever.

That creepy frog suit in that Japanese movie that one time? The one where some asshole hired a prostitute and then tortured her with a hair dryer? Yeah. That's not going away. Ever.

Once upon a time I was an older sister to a brother ten years younger than I am. He was of a sensitive nature and he did not know, for a long time, the difference between what was real and what was on TV. Scary stuff was seriously scary to him. Creepy things were real. It was all real. It used to tear me up inside when other members of the family would make fun of him and completely disregard this condition. It makes sense to me now. Nothing "sensitive" was allowed in our household. He was taunted, told to get a grip or whatever. I don't remember the exact words used, but no one ever made an effort, let's say, to avoid scary, violent, or gross things so that this kid could catch a break.

My little cousins of about the same age as this brother thought that horror movies were funny. Yeah, I know. Tons of people do. Haha. Hilarious. I do not. I despise anything gratuitous and 99.9% of horror movies fall into that category. We do not need them. They open doors we do not need to open. And we cannot unsee them. At my grandparents' house, my deranged cousins (we are talking less than 10 years old here) would turn on a horror movie - my grandparents would do nothing - and my cousins would laugh while my little brother would witness in, well, horror. I would beg for them to turn it off.

Mostly, my pleas fell on deaf ears.

And they still do.

Ya'll. You can't unsee this shit. Ever.

My boyfriend watches YouTube and I told him I don't appreciate the video compilations that do not give you any indication if you are about to see something funny, weird, gross, violent, what? I asked him not to watch them around me. I don't like being surprised with something abhorrent and degenerate that I cannot unsee. I can't help this. It's the way I've always been. Keep it away from me.

Once upon a time I lived in California. A boyfriend and I went to San Francisco and walked through the Haight-Ashbury district. At that time anyway, there was a string of seedy shops selling demonic-type merchandise. You know, I can handle some of it, skulls and dragons and whatnot, but the way these items were presented, it was grungy and scary. I had to stand outside with the homeless people.

This was years ago but I've never forgotten it. I can see the store displays in my mind's eye. That night, we went to a club. It must have been close to Halloween. It was the first time I ever saw someone wearing those very realistic devil's horns. Creeped the shit out of me. As it was meant to, I get it, and in the flickering orange and black light of the club, with the music pulsing, it was very effective. I admire a realistic costume, yet at the same time I apparently have a stronger belief that costumes should look like...costumes. Not real. Maybe it's that same line that my little brother had trouble crossing. They merge together, the real and the unreal, and it's too disturbing for me. The first Halloween I spent with my second husband (yeah, just don't even try to keep up), he warped his face into a zombie costume. It was so effective, he completely transformed his appearance with just a couple of devices, and no longer looked at all like the man I'd married just a few months earlier.

It did not do wonders for our love life. Not then and not after. I couldn't get that out of my head.

Most of you think this doesn't bother you. I know. You agree or disagree that your brain records and remembers everything. You think that the violence and gore and creep factor present in our daily lives is not damaging and does not affect you in any long-term or negative way.

I think you are wrong. 

Now I do not put sex into this. Rape scenes, yes, of course. Forced sex, yes. But consensual sex, no. I'm not a prude. And I think that those parents that freaked out when their children saw two seconds of porn on a highway billboard are stupid and ridiculous. Part of the problem with this country is how we shield our children from sex but flood them with violence. How is that okay? It's sad, is what it is.

But that's leading into a whole other topic.

The message here is. Be careful what you see. You cannot unsee it. To that end, think about what it is we as a society are allowing ourselves to see, what we think it's okay to see and for our children to see. Think about the huge mental health problem we have, the kids in juvie, the people on the streets.

Connection?

Why not choose beauty?

Plato believed that humans were so pliable that we should only subject ourselves to things that encouraged us to be our best selves. He believed in censorship. I don't want anyone determining what I can or cannot see - but I do want to be able to make the choice and not have it made for me.

My little brother has led a troubled life. And I will always remember those days when I begged my family to turn off the horror movie on the TV. I don't say that I knew best. But I knew better.

You can't unsee those things. Ever.