Mr. Addict
Sometimes I write outlines.
They’re not supposed to be outlines. Actually, they’re not outlines, they’re skeletons. I can feel better about writing skeletons, but not a lot.
When I was in young school, as opposed to the school I am in now, I found outlines and paragraph structure to be the most terrible affront, and when that happens I tend to lose objectivity and stare at the wall in protest. For long periods of time. These periods aren’t voids in the continuum, they are situation rooms in which, usually, Mr. Rational negotiates with The Horde over the disposition of The Hostage, which is Time.
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What shall we do with the time? It’s a rational question. We all understand the context as we discuss it several times a day, and we make agreements, covenants, concessions, deals, barters, plans, outlines, schedules; we define goals and we pinky swear that we’ll see them realized, and yet.....and yet here we are in The Situation room again, not getting anywhere.
Or are we?
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Mr. Emotion, would you like to join us at the table, or do you prefer to have your back to the wall like that? And could you put the knife down, please? You look cold, you want a blanket or something, no? Too hot? Right, ok, well you just try to relax. Mr. Practical, how are you? Recovering well? No, I think you should leave Mr. Emotion be, at least until you’ve healed up. Why don’t you go assist Mr. Creative? No, I don’t know what he’s up to now, but if you could just go keep him on track, that would be great. How? I don’t know, try hiding stuff, just not whatever it is he needs. I don’t know, I really don’t know, just do your best. Mr. Responsibility, you look stressed. What’s going on? How are Mr. Talent and Mr. Intellect doing with the school work? You all getting along? Where are they anyway? They’re sleeping? Go wake them up, will you? My, those two are lazy, they always seem to get the job done in the nick of time, though! Why are you crying? Ah, well, off you go then, and bring back something nice for Mr. Emotion, and Mr. Creative needs a guitar pick, and oh, he’s got another supply list; buy only the essentials, please. Mr. Work Ethic, would you please get up and help Mr. Responsibility find Mr. Talent, and Mr. Intellect? I’d start in Mr. Dreamer’s room. They’re always hanging out in there, watching...whatever it is he come up with. Please catch up with Mr. Responsibility, I don’t want to lose YOU in there as well! Haha! And do try to patch things up with him, you two used to get on so well. Here, let me help you with those crutches. Now, Where’s Mr. Addict? Mr. ADDICT? Oh! There you are. You really do need to stop sneaking up on people, you’re making everyone quite nervous. And what is that? No, what IS that? You have to show me, we all agreed on this. It’s ok, everyone, Mr. Addict and I are just having a little chat about what he’s holding. No, it’s not like that. Mr. Emotion, please return to your seat. It really is difficult to talk about you without stirring up a terrible fuss with everyone after that explosion in the lounge Mr. Addict, so please, what have you got there? Oh! Well, that’s quite good. Did you come up with this all yourself? That’s very interesting. I have a job for you. When Mr. Talent and Mr. Intellect return with Mr. Dreamer, Mr. Work Ethic, and our poor Mr. Responsibility, I’d like you to work with them. Don’t try to take over again, just take an easy seat on the sidelines, and offer what you can. They could use a little bit of your ability to focus. Just make sure you let them sleep, and don’t go to Mr. Dreamer’s room or I’ll never see any of you again. Just sit with them, and, I don’t know, try to be mild. I’ll explain things once you’ve assembled. You’re very welcome, Mr. Addict. I’m glad you’ve decided to be a part of the team. They’ll come around, don’t worry. Show them what you can do, just not like before, know what I mean? Hahaha! Yes, Mr. Emotion, that really is wonderful, but please settle down, you’re distracting Mr. Creative! Ahem, where were we? You’re welcome, Mr. Addict, and I’m not Mr. Rational, though we get confused for each other all the time. My name is Rationale.
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I eventually became pretty good at writing outlines. I’d write them after I was done the writing assignment so they’d be perfectly matched to the content. I also tend to take instructions quite literally when I feel insecure about understanding the nature of what’s been asked of me, especially if I don’t want to do it. If I have to drag no less than 500 words out, you’re definitely not getting more than 502. That kind of thinking and process wastes a lot of time, so it’s really healthy for me to have directives and deliverables, and timelines to work with, but they’re an awful lot like outlines, and I can’t stand outlines, or, at least, that’s what I thought in grade school.
I think it’s probably a good idea to move forward some, and if I look at things rationally, I can. I love order. I love it when things are squared away in little boxes so I know where they are, where I can fit them if I decide to move them, and how long that would take. When I work, I can break an entire house into tasks, and arrange them in order of priority, and accomplish them. I can do things like that, and I do, easily, just never for very long. Not without help; not without order, not anymore.
I miss work. I miss building houses. I miss framing and finishing and hammering and throwing and yelling and laughing and lifting. I miss not being afraid that the pain will never go away. I miss the comfort of a plan, and a linear progression. I miss the tradesman’s nod that I was able to give myself every day when I looked at what I had built with my own two hands. Fuck yeah, we did good.
I feel weak now, and all the characters that I never used to be able to hear for 8-14 hours a day as I struggled under the weight of duty, have articulations.
But this is still the adjustment period. I’m not weak. I’m not weak at all, I just can’t work like a born in the 70’s 18-year-old anymore, and it’s about fucking time I learned some temperance, some moderation. I’m recovering from a 3 decades long beating, and I’m actually acclimating to this new reality pretty well, all things considered, because I do consider all the things, at least I think I do, and that’s becoming a problem, or it could, if I let it. I just wasn’t used to stillness in the absence of exhaustion, nor focus without physical exertion. I’m not sure if it can be called a lesson, or if it’s just the inevitable progression of a life. Maybe it’s all the same. I don’t know, and I don’t need to think about it because I have homework to do, because I have an old life to exchange for a new one, and I want it to be directed by my ideas, and gained by my movement. I want it to be fun, too. I don’t think that’s too much to ask of myself.
I have an outline for this. It’ll probably have to adapt, but so will I.
