It takes an army of highly-trained medical professionals to deal with Dirtbunny and all her weirdness, and what we’ve learned recently is that is it possible that she is not beyond help. It’s no surprise that her mind is officially highly warped and demented, but here’s what is a surprise. That alter ego? The one with the desk job in an unfeeling bureaucracy, the soccer mom haircut, and the 100 pounds of self-hatred? Dirtbunny has always been told that person is the dominant person and Dirtbunny is the unwanted, intrusive other personality.
It’s the Dirtbunny who is real. That other person is what happens after decades of constant re-education along the lines of Dirtbunny is very very bad and everyone’s problems would be solved if only she would just learn to be good, i.e., not be such a bitch, i.e., not be such a Dirtbunny. I HAVE BEEN OPPRESSED! The medical term is “severe sustained stress.” That’s right, bitchez. Allowing yourself to be persuaded that your authentic self is bad and then actually trying to be someone else practically your whole life will fuck you up. I am OK exactly the way I am and I know this because a variety of other crazy people and mental health professionals say I am The Bomb.
I am lucky in that Dirtbunny was never successfully killed off and managed to
eke out a meager existence in force her way angrily into the imagination of Shut Up Girl, where she kept up a colorful imaginary existence. She doesn’t have to wander around suburbia and wonder where she is like she’s been buried in a time capsule or something.
Yeah, so the work is ongoing. Being brilliant, Dirtbunny realizes that the world cannot handle a full-on Dirtbunny, and that she will have to socialize some of her urges, especially as regards things and persons that/who are stupid, because prison is something generally to be avoided. Shut Up Girl is like English Ivy. She gots roots and runners all over the place so you may think you have ripped her out, but you have to be ever vigilant to make sure she isn’t trying to sneak back in and take over again.
And the blog? Isn’t it cute how I pretend that there is actually someone out there reading this that I didn’t have to beg and prod to come here? If you don’t want to be here, then go away. I don’t want to be lied to and you have better things to do with your time. Oh yeah. I don’t know what happens to the blog. I like to write. I don’t always have handy topics or photos I can use. My immediate market for footie stuff is basically gone, and the movies thing is fun for me but apparently horribly dull for everyone else, assuming there is anyone else. There’s the doggies and the yarn, there’s the recovery, oh there’s plenty of stuff, but I put myself out there and make myself vulnerable and don’t even know whether anyone is reading except for marketing robots. I’ve been giving chunks of myself away and that’s fine, but if I decide that what I get out of it doesn’t make up for what I put into it, I’m probably going to give this up entirely so I can throw myself at other uninterested people.