Right now, I feel pretty satisfied.
Usually it just takes a few days to scratch the various itches that are consistently in the spine of my soul. When I go a week or so fulfilling my basic human needs, then a couple of days with decent creativity, I come to this headspace. I welcome it. It's the goal, in a way. The proof in the pudding (words down on paper), as it were.
I always get a tinge of fear, though. Whenever I have a sense of accomplishment, there's a rush of anxiety following up right behind, telling me not to get complacent. It's as reliable as a package deal for a popular guy and his nerdy best friend when choosing teams for a kickball game. You want the popular dude, but the nerdy fellow is louder than he should be, and if he just stayed quiet you would like him way more, plus he smells bad. This doesn't get in the way of you picking Jason (The popular boy, keep up) , because he's seriously a beast, and his positive attitude brings the best out of the rest of the team.
I'll put up with stinky Pete for now, but I always feel the need to complain about him or make him go away. "I wanted Jason!" I scream into poor little Peter's eyes, "You always come along and ruin it!" And that's on me, I don't like feeling anxious. I don't like it when self-doubt springs up as a counterweight to any modicum of success or momentum. I want to kick Peter in the god-damn shins and run away, then call attention to any pretty girls in the area and tell them he tried hurting a disabled boy but got his ass kicked. Is this relatable? You all get me.
But Jason, he's dope as hell man. When I get him on the team he's a freaking all star, hitting home runs left and right and fielding like a true hero. I love it when I get going, where I can keep a steady flow of work and focus for as long as possible. It's great! It's just that after every home run there's stinky Pete, stumbling up to bat with his helmet on backwards and shirt buttoned incorrectly. Why are you dressed up for kickball, Peter my boy? Who else is wearing a helmet? I just shake my head and let him get out, just trying to make it through the shitty moment with integrity in tact. Maybe that's my problem, though. Trying to remove or ignore something that's fundamental to who I am.
There's no way to get rid of Stench master Peter, here. Him and Jason are joined at the hip, and according to Big J, this crap-scented companion is a big reason why he's so happy and successful. Pete pushes him to work hard, to be his best, to focus and perform whenever he can. "Wow, I didn't know that" I say to Jason, as I return his laundry to him, pressed and folded. "These smell great by the way"
"Thanks! Pete reminds me to smell my best" Jason says, trying his best to make sense of the metaphor of which he is a part. "Anyway, back to that volunteer work!"
I sigh as Jason cartwheels out of the locker room. Pete shuffles his way out of a closed locker, then flounders out quickly while trying to keep playing Pokemon on his Gameboy but it won't save and it's running out of battery. I sigh again, but this time shake my head, which means I feel different.
Pete isn't going away, is he? Maybe he's just here to make Jason more appealing, like this popular boy is only cool when paired up with a true beast of a human. Maybe I need that consistent reminder of my anxiety so I know what the alternative is. A Peter without a Jason is just a waste of an at-bat. Jason without Peter might not exist.
Maybe putting up with this anxiety is just not the move. Maybe I need to get used to it, then start to like it, then get it to be a valuable team player. Maybe SP can be shown the way into a productive and attractive human being? I need a metaphorical Queer Eye, I think.
Or maybe extended metaphors are a waste of time, and trying to personify complex human emotions into a ubiquitous high-school experience is just a way of coping with the fact that nobody on earth will ever truly understand what I'm going through, ever, not even those closest to me. This desire I have, the urge to turn 'Pete' and 'Jason' into this idea that's so well articulated that anyone on the internet would connect with it instantly, it's completely unrealistic, and not just because of my own shortcomings as a writer, thinker, and communicator, but also the fundamental error in human language that will limit our ability to accurately reflect our own thoughts and emotions in perpetuity, and that the only way to circumvent the ultimately futile attempt to make my presence known or important in this modern world is to resort to these audacious rants and absurdly long metaphors.
See that? That was all Pete. That's why we keep this guy around.
P.S
Pete Ward, this metaphor was not inspired by you, I promise.
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