So I was driving home from work tonight and started thinking (keep your shocked faces to yourself), I write in metaphors a lot. Okay, now that I really think about it, actually similes more than metaphors.
Going back to elementary school English for a quick second: a simile is a comparison of two different things using the words “like” or “as”. A metaphor doesn’t use “like” or “as”.
So why do I use similes and metaphors so much? I have no fucking clue.
I start writing about a topic then I liken it to something that has nothing to do with the topic at hand yet it seems fitting. Then I get so wrapped up in the metaphor and go off on so many tangents within the metaphor that I forget what the fuck topic the metaphor was suppose to even relate to in the first place.
Phew.
I understand my own similes and metaphors, and their tangents, I’m not sure anyone else does. I don’t send my mom a lot of memes because she admittedly doesn’t get them.
Are people too nice to say they just don’t get what the fuck I’m talking about? This is assuming anyone is reading any of this shit in the first place.
Then I had another thought (more shock) – this is all my anxiety talking. What in the goddamn fuck?
As I’ve said, anxiety is doubt, and it’s also the need for clarity.
I’m fucking writing this to you right now at 11:14 on a Saturday night when I should be going to bed because I have to get up at 7:00 am for acupuncture (thank god for acupuncture–worth losing sleep over even on a Sunday I assure you).
So why am I not nestled in my bed right now and instead spewing out this verbal vomit?
Because my anxiety is an unfinished jigsaw puzzle, always there laying on the coffee table, staring at me, begging me to put the pieces together to make a clear picture.
But the beauty of using metaphors is that their symbolism and nuance shouldn’t need to be explained. See, I’m fucking up my own writing by even clueing you into this.
Fucking things up all over the place I am. Talking like Yoda I am.
Oh! Sidenote: watched Star Wars: The Last Jedi last night and was reminded of the cutest fucking made-up animals ever, porgs. I only saw Last Jedi once before hence why I didn’t remember them, unlike the original Star Wars movies which I quote along the way, out loud mind you, while I’m home parked on the couch by myself on a Friday night.
I’m a female, frog-snacking Jabba the Hut.
What can I say, I fucking love Star Wars.
Don’t you? Okay, moving on then.
Anyway porgs! Cutest fucking things ever, next to sloths.
Welcome to my legit, should-go-to-bed-but-have-to-clarify-first way of thinking (and also the crazy tangents I go on). And this my friends is what anxiety looks like, for me at least.
What does your anxiety look like to you? Have you ever tried to articulate it?
I’ll take this way of thinking though. I’m okay with being haphazard puzzle pieces everywhere.
I’ve always said being a roller coaster of thoughts and emotions is better than being a robot. Shit I’ve been on figurative Freefall more times than I can count. Freefall? Anyone with me here? That ride at Great Adventure in New Jersey? Is that ride even still there? I haven’t been to an amusement park in a long time. Needs to go on the list.
Re-cue the Lumineers quote: “it’s better to feel pain, than nothing at all. The opposite of love’s indifference.“
Geez, tangenty much am I? Talking like Yoda again I am. Where does it end?
Anyway, I just used an amusement park ride metaphor and I didn’t even mean to. I just typed it, couldn’t stop my fingers. This shit just flows out of me sometimes.
Anyway, let’s re-center.
So I talk in metaphors a lot (and seem to go off on tangents a lot–overthinking does that to you. I just hope you all get my metaphors, at least sometimes.
Supposedly they help you be a better writer according to “professionals”. I don’t do it to help my writing, I do it because that’s what I’m thinking. Because I feel I can’t express myself correctly all on my own so I need some kind of analogy to do it for me.
Or am I just a turtle talking about myself without really talking about myself from the confines of a shell?
I talk to people through this blog without actually talking face to face with anyone about any of these feelings. And God forbid I talk to anyone about the feelings I have that I don’t even put on this blog. Now that’s some scary shit. Ms. Slowsky would go into hibernation for years after exposing such feelings to anyone.
She’s not just a slow turtle, she’s a scaredy cat.
I can metaphor all day long. Anything you’d like expressed in metaphors? I got you. I should sell my services (that’s what she said).
Instead of a llamagram, a metaphorgram! Someone comes to your house and gives you a message in the form of metaphors for you to decipher. It’s like a murder mystery dinner, minus the dinner (I can bring pizza though) and the mystery is you’ll have no fucking idea what the metaphor is saying. Or will you?
How clever are you? Clever girl. As clever as a velociraptor? Gotta respect velociraptors.
I’m not looking for respect or a velociraptor (I’ll take a porg though). I’m just hoping people at least kinda sorta understand me.
Damn, I just fucking “hoped” myself. Do I not learn my own lessons? Hope is the worst thing you can give someone. I just gave it to myself. I’m so dumb. I need to re-read my own shit.
Hope from the Universe = okay. Hope from humans = meh. My hope is a sad porg looking into Chewbacca’s eyes.
Need a metaphor for your own anxiety? Call me. Metaphorgrams by CM – first one is free!
Wait, what is phone-anxiety-me saying? Don’t call me. Text, e-mail, carrier pigeon even (carrier porg!) but no call. Thank you.
CM
1/8/23
