It is a little after 1 am. I am at work at the guard shack.
I spent the first hour and a half here talking to my high school best friend. We haven't talked in a while, a few years I guess. He sounded sad and maybe a little drunk. We talked about our dads.
He said that Freud said that a person cannot be fully authentically themselves while their father is still alive.
Then he said that Jung said, sure, that's true, but the father can die a symbolic death.
I feel like I am fairly authentic. But definitely not around my dad, so maybe there is a point there.
But I think that does speak to the feeling of being a bit of a pushover that I mentioned in my last entry.
Which is why I am updating this now. I wanted to close out the story of my girlfriend and her neighbor's dog.
The neighbor is a woman. I didn't mention that in the last entry. And hearing from a few of you delightful and beloved readers, it seems I may have made it seem like the neighbor was a guy.
But no, she is a woman in her mid-50s. A bartender at a country club who moved here from Florida to be with a married man who decided to stay with his wife (but still see her occasionally). When he isn't seeing her, she drinks all day outside on her front porch. She bought the pitbull from some guy who was selling them outside of a bar.
Casey is physically fine from the dog bite. No damage done, just fear. She is more afraid of the neighbor who is almost always home, always drunk, and always looking over at Casey's front porch. Even before the incident with the dog, this lady was always trying to push her way into Casey's life, as well as the other people who live in the building. Just drinking vodka waiting for someone to walk from their car to the door so she can talk to them.
At first, we felt bad for her. She seems lonely. That's why Casey tried to hang out with her once or twice and agreed to watch the dog while she was at work.
But, of course, now we see why everyone in the building completely ignores her. Her anger was quick and vicious. A whole weekend of verbal harassment and rummaging around outside Casey's window in the middle of the night. It's all calmed down now since Casey got the landlord involved. At least for now.
I remember telling my therapist once how I felt like I was a magnet for those kinds of people. The emotional vampires. The walking landfills of trauma and open emotional wounds. I've long felt like, as i-am-jack just wrote in his entry, "an easy carnival prize for narcissists."
My therapist said that people like that actually seek out everyone, anyone that will give them the time of day, and that they stick around and abuse people like me because we let them.
Casey said today that she will never again be anything more than distantly friendly to any neighbor. Which I get completely, but that also makes me sad in a way.
I want to live in a world where we look out for each other and help where we can and always see the best in everyone.
I know how naive it is. I do. I know that there are wolves all around waiting to take advantage of the kindness of strangers. Willing to take and take until everything is a broken mess.
But I still want to be kind and gentle.
I don't want people like that to ruin me. I don't want the world as it is to destroy the seed of the world that can be that grows within me.
1:13 a.m. - 2024-02-06
Recent entries:
A Weird Wash of Metaphors - 2024-04-06
Easter - 2024-04-01
There is a Morrissey song called "Spent the Day in Bed" that is fitting here as a title - 2024-03-28
I don't know - 2024-03-08
Contemplations on a sexless Valentine's Day - 2024-02-15
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