I am Jughead

It’s been months since watching Netflix. My partner and I had made the swap to Foxtel but then when change happened in my life, I found myself camping out in a mate’s home. With his TV. And Netflix. But no chill.

I mean, I needed to chill. But not in the sexual way. I just needed my own time so when I turned on the TV I saw Riverdale was on offer.

Archie was a great comic book when I was little. I mean, I didn’t know many people who were into them. And I can’t remember much about them except the main gang. And what the plot was really about, I have no idea. And I’m even clueless as to how I even had the comics. They were just a presence. Mysteriously obtained from under the floorboards.

I don’t binge watch a show, but I was close to doing that with Riverdale. As much as I could. I’m in love with Veronica (oops did I slip that in there). The 10th episode, The Lost Weekend, was the last aired and I’ve finished that tonight.

Now. A brief description that is a SPOILER ALERT but I’m trying to keep it vague.

Jughead is homeless and has a troubled childhood and has father issues. His girlfriend is hot and kind and he’s a lucky guy. But he knows that. Now. It’s his birthday, and his girlfriend decides to organise a small birthday party for him (I mean, what else was she to do?). Which gets unexpectedly larger to no fault of the girlfriend.

Now. Jughead is furious. He’s angry at his girlfriend Betty. He says that if she knew him she would realise the party was not what he wanted. That it was just to prove she was the perfect girlfriend.

It’s harsh. It’s moody. It seems unfair.

But I’m getting what he’s feeling. And yet I’m in the middle and watching and understanding Betty as well. It’s unfair he’s treated her this way. And it’s been done because he’s emotionally overwhelmed.

Is this an excuse? Mmm. No. It’s a red flag on their relationship but it’s a concern for Jughead himself.

Because making it through a crap childhood doesn’t mean you’re an ugly duckling becoming a swan. That swan from the Hans Christian Anderson story has insecurity.

But I wish more people knew that.

Jughead hates celebrating his birthday and his reason is that one day of the year shouldn’t a pretence of a perfect life. It should not be a break from how crap the other days of the year are.

To have all that attention on him for one day, for him to feel special and cared for properly is hard. He was self-conscious. The insecurity issues came pouring out. And he took them out on his girlfriend.

That relationship shouldn’t last. Not because of Betty doing anything wrong, not because Jughead is a terrible person, but because both of them have emotional needs to be filled. And they can’t fill them together.

 

 

Frieza, meds, terrorism

SO MANY things to think about when you’re in Year 6. Oh man, it was wild back then.

The parties you’re not invited to.!

The girls that freak you out for various reasons

The mean Irish teacher who is fucking insane 

Medication you have to take which supresses your hate for middle class society and the demountable school buildings and terrorists the hate is still there you’re aware of it but first you have to fight through the haze which hides the switch to your vocal cords so that you can’t make them scream

War on Terrorism – which begins later in the year.

George Bush, who I didn’t know existed until he announces War on Terrorism

Wheatus.

Dragon Ball Z. What if I sleep in or the aerial stuffs up the day Goku finally kills Frieza?

Frieza meme

What if my crazy teacher is a terrorist? 

My scary psychologist has three nipples

How the hell am I going to find and read all the 54 Animorphs books in order?

Impressing my friends who are more athletic and don’t invite me to parties because my socks don’t match. 

Being possessed by an alien slug

Making sure I get dressed in time since my foster mum threatened to put me on the bus in my PJs. Like she did to my foster brother.

Making sure my socks match.

Feeding the horses.

Homework.

Vampires. Do they exist? Or are Joss Whedon and Blade big fat liars? 

High school. Those kids look mean. What if I go to high school one day and I get knifed or flushed down the toilet or overlooked because I’m less than average in ability and looks and the teachers don’t care because their classrooms have too many students beyond capacity and I don’t learn long division properly?

What if I get tricked into smoking cigarettes, and before you know it the addiction strips my soul away and I become a total psycho like Christian Slater in that movie Heathers.

My foster mother gave me a visualisation exercise one day. She said “when there’s too many thoughts in your head, imagine a box.”

Okay.

“Put all your thoughts and fears and worries in the box.”

Makes sense.

“Close the box and put it under your bed. Come back later when you need them. Keep two or three with you and manage those ones.”

Okay! I’ll keep the epic fight between Goku and Frieza, the mean Irish teacher, and trying to sleep my way to popularity.

I find it difficult to think more than two or three ideas or thoughts now. Family, work, social life, it’s all been compartmentalised to when I need to access them. When something or someone tries to climb out the box I chop them up with an axe and swallow some medication with alcohol and  I put them back in and promise myself I’ll work on it later.