what's that word again?

the oxford-delena dictionary

ambivafuddled
adj.

1. a hybridazation of two words: ambivalence, and befuddled
2. the exact state of being in which delena exists today, due to the point in a particular friendship cycle in which she finds herself

ambivalence
n.
1. the co-existence within an individual caused by a simultaneous desire to say or do two opposite or conflicting things.
befuddled
adj.
1. perplexed by many conflicting situations or statements; to be filled with bewilderment


i find myself yet again in this place with greggo, and i find myself filled with the same mix of bewilderment and ambivalence. he's my best friend, and he's been a rather good friend for the (holy crap!) eight years we've known each other. and yet, every time i say, "greggo, honey, she's treating you like crap and you deserve so much better than that," i'm always smacked with "delena, sometimes i get the feeling you don't understand me."

he's lucky i don't live right next door, because if i read those emails and he did live next door, he'd be smacked so silly by the time i got done with him, he'd be walking on his hands and wearing his hat on his ass.

no, i understand him too well. i see so much of one of the versions of the old me whenever i think of him. richard bach once said "argue for your limitations and, sure enough, they're yours." but i can't make him see it. we go through this same cycle.

1. i tell him what's up
2. he bites my hand, insults me, and tells me i don't get it
3. i give him a verbal bitch slap and tell him to wake the fuck up
4. he bites my hand again, harder, and throws a tantrum
5. i sigh and say whatever. after all, you can lead a horse to water, but you can't make him drink. even if you siphon out the other end.
6. he pretends it never happened
7. i focus on things worth my time
8. he comes back later and says, "wow, dee, i think you were right."
9. he thinks a bit, then says, "no, i know you were right. wow, sorry i was such an ass earlier."

of course, trying to explain to him this cycle --so we can cut the crap and just move on to steps 7-9-- is hopeless. i've tried so many times, in so many different ways, i'm almost at a loss. of course, how to help him see that he's worth so much more than he's putting up with right now? he keeps saying, "but delena, i'm not you, i will never be you, i'm just little me," and all i can do is close my eyes and envision myself slapping the shit out of him because i can't do it in real life.

i see the treasure in the trash, the jewel in the junk food, the gold in the lead, and that's why i'm still his friend and still give him 100% of me, and my love and my effort. but i'm getting tired again. he makes these little leaps of progress so he can avoid making some of the real growth, the funkywild freedom fighter kind. and he keeps saying that he's not like me, but he is! dear gods in heaven, he is!

we all are! every single one of us is a part of every single one of us! and no, i'm not spouting free-love-everyone happy-happy-joy-joy hippie bullshit. it's the Divine Wow-honest truth! we are shining beings! heavenly bodies! angels on earth! second-generation star stuff come alive! once upon a time there was this bitty little speck of matter bobbing around in nothing, and the MultiVersal Jiggy Snake opened its great big eyes, yawned, and decided to play 'pop goes the weasel' with that bitty bit of matter. so it wound up its great big tail and smacked it. and that speck of matter went "BOOM!" and the Jiggy Snake went, "Wee!" and it was good.

and we floated around the known universe, hung out as super-heated gases awhile. then we got together and threw a huge, bangin' funky party and called ourselves stars. then one day, we decided the party was over, and as stars we went "BOOM!" and the Jiggy Snake went, "Wee!"

then we looked at each other, star stuff going nova. "hey," we said, "let's say we get together and have lunch in about sixty billion years?"

"planet earth?"

"yeah, meet you there."

"groovy!"

and it was good.

i don't get it. after having played 'pop goes the weasel' with the Supreme Funk Itsownself, and having played around as planets and stars and comets, how can anyone say that they deserve to settle for anything less than what an angel-come-to-earth deserves? of course, if my greggo truly believes he deserves to be used as a doormat and friend-of-convenience, as well as an extension of a cold fish of a dead-inside wife who only keeps him around so she can ignore her own feelings of insecure inadequacy, then who am i to argue? i must love the idea of him like that, and i must love it more than i love it. i must celebrate it.

that might take some getting used to.

of course, if he truly believes that, then shouldn't he be celebrating it? shouldn't it be making him happy and funky and "that much closer" to the Divine Wow? a little growth every day, because a little growth into something new means a little death to something old. i strive to die a little every day, because countless little deaths is the secret to neutralizing the Great Anihilation that awaits those who don't die.

i dunno. maybe this point of view is too much for greggo right now. i just hope he wakes up soon, because if he doesn't, then that means i will wake up. i will wake up to the realization that our friendship is nothing more than a dry streambed of potential and growth, and we all know what delena does with relationships that are dried up. i don't want to get up and walk away so i can focus on those relationships that are worth my time and caliber, but i will if i have to. and i'll chalk it up to one more little death, and celebrate it because death means growth!

c'mon, greggo, i pray. c'mon and die so you can live.