Under The Microscope

Hi, I'm Jaded, and I'm a control freak.

Everyone: HI JADED!

Picture a time when you were so in love- not lust, not smitten, not strong like but LOVE- that you just knew in your heart it couldn't possibly get any better than this. I mean, even after the newness has worn off and you've had your first fight and hit some bumps, you KNEW this was RIGHT and worth fighting for.

Then, one day, it's snatched away from you and you were never given or never acquired the coping skills to deal with such a loss. It makes you bitter and guarded and you develop this sadness deep in your bones that you cover up with sarcasm and humor and casual sex and drugs and Buffalo wings at 4AM. You lose your ability to trust your own judgment because you're afraid it will be wrong. You'd rather the answer be handed to you.

But of course it won't ever, so you resign yourself to being this distrustful person (and that never works of course) and think you can be happy this way.

So you go on with your life as best you can with this inability to trust until one day it occurs to you: this isn't working. But DAMN if you know what's what!

And most importantly:


Obviously I have a birthday looming and it's making me overthink EVERYTHING, and after analyzing my life to death, because that's what us science nerds do, my close friends and I deduced that not only do I have an unhealthy obsession with being in control of everything, but I also have a problem letting things go.

Let's not forget how I almost let my longtime friendships with Irene and Cathi go to pot because I couldn't let go of what I considered a disappointment, or the fact that I refuse to make peace with my grandmother's passing, or that I still haven't really forgiven Mami for many things. It only makes sense that I not be able to undo the damage that initial broken heart caused, which in turn keeps affecting my ability to recognize, seek out and be open to a romantic relationship and instead find comfort in the physical pleasures.

But let's call a spade a spade here: I'm not getting any younger. Pretty soon it will be me, my Fiestaware collection, my John Cusack DVDs and a slew of cats living in a studio apartment in Bushwick.

Won't THOSE blog posts be fun: "Today, as we watched Better Off Dead for the 3,000th time, Mitzy coughed up the biggest hairball in the history of hairballs. I would've taken a picture for you but that bitch-ass Robo-Maid swept it up before I could grab my camera."

*smooches...frantically searching for my body's instruction manual*
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if I can fix this I'll be ok
if I can fix this I'll be ok
if I can fix this I'll be ok
if I can fix this I'll be ok
if I can fix this I'll be ok