happy blog post

There’s a character from this cartoon I watched a tiny bit back in the day. Her form shifts to match her emotions, so when she’s angry for example she turns into a big amorphous sort of dragon thing. I’ve always wanted to have that power, so then some days people could see me as a small malnourished mouse and know not to be even jokingly mean that day yknow?

I’d settle for wild shaping too, I’d probably spend most of my time as a mouse or a small bird. This morning at work the boss at my bakery spoke to me and I flinched. She seemed very confused and asked if I was okay. That’s fair enough, she had been right in front of me for several minutes it’s not as though she suddenly appeared. I wasn’t sure how I’d go about explaining to her that I’m afraid of her hostility, that she gives me a lot of anxiety. In fact, so does the head baker, despite being incredibly kind and gentle the entire time I’ve known her. It’s particularly bad with her, she doesn’t even have to speak, if I catch her walking in my periphery vision I will jump. It always makes me remember my first stay in a psych ward, that’s when I noticed for the first time how jumpy I was, it became a bit of a meme with the residents and employees. One day someone made ????? I’m remembering a rooster noise for some reason???? I don’t think that’s what happened, but when I try to remember it I see in front of my eyes the head of a white rooster, with its red crest. Anyway there was some sort of a noise down the hallway and I jumped in my “cell”. I peeked out of my door and the employee we all called “Booms” said “really? all the way down there?!” we laughed about it.

There’s a story in the rolodex of anecdotes I have at the ready for having to contribute to human interactions. I was seeing my art school’s therapist and they asked me if I considered myself an anxious person

“of course not, I actually don’t even know what anxiety feels like, I can go up to anyone on the street and make friends with them instantly!”

All of that was genuinely true, I truly wasn’t familiar with what anxiety was supposed to feel like.

“Really? I would describe you as an incredibly anxious person”

They responded.

(I’ve just remembered that during one of our fist sessions I admitted that I always end up wanting to fuck my therapists.

“Well that won’t be a problem here” they joked in a laughing, self deprecating way. The punchline was that I would never be attracted to someone of their physicality. It’s not true though, I really liked the shape of their eyes. That was enough for me. )

Apparently it’s not normal to feel like you’re about to vomit, like you’re just generally sick 24/7, go figure!

When they explained that to me I was genuinely stunned. I’m thinking about all this because after the boss asked me if I was okay, I started wondering what they must think of me and how that differs from the first impressions they had of me when I first came to interview for the position.

I cut quite the figure with my black turtleneck, dress pants and balenciaga adjacent shoes. It also helps a whole lot that people seem to think I’m good looking. What sort of assumptions do you make about a person who dresses that way, looks good, and has so much confidence being projected outwards? and then what is it like to realize slowly over the course of months that they are absolutely a mess. Indeed a malnourished mouse. A kangaroo mouse I think. A thousand scars on my arms, constantly flinching, a hundred ailments and ten thousand harrowing stories. What would I look like if I really looked like me? I imagine myself as a shriveled, evil looking creature, not quite human. There are traces of beauty, marked up and perhaps covered by scar tissue. A big toothy smile, long stringy hair, you can see every section of my

spinal column.

I had a moment today where I was thinking about what it must have been like

to transport camels, elephants and other such creatures on ships traveling great distances. How whimsical and daring of humans. For a few seconds I was glad

to be a human being to be able to share in a history of such whimsy, but I would like to go back to being a mouse now. I’d like to hide in a hole in a corner, I’d like to chew on a seed, I’d like to listen to the human that lives here playing violin at sunset.

A nice mousy life. An ex girlfriend used to call me “goose”, isn’t that funny?

I like being a mouse better.

Small mouse small mouse, I’d have a preference for smoked gouda cheese, I’d look forward to seeing my small mouse wife. I’d enjoy the autumn the most.

I’d close my eyes and sleep in a match box.

I’d like my life as a small mouse.

I’d think about the public library I used to live in as I drift off.

post script.

i’m only just now remembering, one of the little characters i keep in my head from so long ago, they were named mouse. how quaint, how lovely. i love you too mouse! i’m happy to be insane.