Sometimes things don't quite make sense.
Pains and aches pop up out of nowhere, and surges of energy appear randomly. My psyche sometimes falters without a cause, and I fail to find a chain of events that could possibly have caused the shift.
It lets me wonder, what if there's something else? A future I already know but don't think about. A past I can't quite remember that hasn't forgotten me. An alternate dimension that needs me. Or has rejected me. Or is ambivalent, but affects me all the same.
And with the far-fetched mystical glimmer, there's the hope that nothing is truly impossible. That dreams, no matter their wildness, can come true.
Saturday, November 16, 2013
Tuesday, November 5, 2013
Fantastic People
I know many of them.
It's almost uncanny. The amount people I know well that are absolutely amazing. I know some who have gone through some terrible times and have come out a hero. I know others who seem naturally gifted with a glorious personality. I wonder what I am to them. I wonder if they feel like I'm as wonderful as they are. I also wonder why I know them. Why am I placed in the path of amazing people? It is a happy thought that I might be there to uplift them, and together we can increase our already incredibly potential. However, it is equally likely that I'm just the opposite. Every hero needs a villain, and a sympathetic one makes an even better story. What if, in the grand scheme of things, I'm simply a problem to be solved? A tangled mess of thorns along the path of life, whose only purpose is to ensnare the feet of the destined. An existence made solely so that others can have something to overcome?
This path of thinking is just as self-centered as the previous hope of inherent glory. Maybe it's better to believe that I don't have a purpose at all. There is freedom in such thought. Yet with such freedom, I am devoid of a basis.
Meh. I'm tired. Tomorrow things will be normal as ever, and woes of theory and imagination will be swept up by the quietly incessant tide of monotony. Goodnight all.
It's almost uncanny. The amount people I know well that are absolutely amazing. I know some who have gone through some terrible times and have come out a hero. I know others who seem naturally gifted with a glorious personality. I wonder what I am to them. I wonder if they feel like I'm as wonderful as they are. I also wonder why I know them. Why am I placed in the path of amazing people? It is a happy thought that I might be there to uplift them, and together we can increase our already incredibly potential. However, it is equally likely that I'm just the opposite. Every hero needs a villain, and a sympathetic one makes an even better story. What if, in the grand scheme of things, I'm simply a problem to be solved? A tangled mess of thorns along the path of life, whose only purpose is to ensnare the feet of the destined. An existence made solely so that others can have something to overcome?
This path of thinking is just as self-centered as the previous hope of inherent glory. Maybe it's better to believe that I don't have a purpose at all. There is freedom in such thought. Yet with such freedom, I am devoid of a basis.
Meh. I'm tired. Tomorrow things will be normal as ever, and woes of theory and imagination will be swept up by the quietly incessant tide of monotony. Goodnight all.
Tuesday, October 29, 2013
Imminent
"The end is near!"
A funny statement, and potentially always true, since near is relative. Given that there is an end worth of being deemed "the" end, it is closer now than it ever has been, assuming linear time progression.
But honestly, I don't think that's what we really fear. Most people don't fret about the final moment. Instead our waking nightmares are visions of that wobbling first domino. That event that indeed happens soon, and said occurrence will logically cause a cataclysm. With our limited ability to predict, it's hard to see other paths existing at all, much less being probable. Additionally, we cannot flesh out the entirety of our existence at any given future time. As much as the devastation we fear could become a reality, reality will likely give us some unforeseen compensation, even if it's only as small as a bar of chocolate.
Other times we feel that the chain of events has already begun, and we are now simply carried through it to it's final conclusion. This is the "never" of our doubts. The things that will never come to pass because the trail we are on does not go there. However, paths do diverge in yellow woods, and there are choices still to be made.
The inescapable truth is, life will always have its sorrows, and will always have its joys. No person is devoid of all, for in depravity the smallest of blessings is magnified, and in bliss perfection cannot last. Even so, the general has never barred the specific. Hope and dream for things yet to come. Worry and plan against what might go wrong. If you find your mind starts to unwind, return to what you know, how you feel, and something specific you want.
A funny statement, and potentially always true, since near is relative. Given that there is an end worth of being deemed "the" end, it is closer now than it ever has been, assuming linear time progression.
But honestly, I don't think that's what we really fear. Most people don't fret about the final moment. Instead our waking nightmares are visions of that wobbling first domino. That event that indeed happens soon, and said occurrence will logically cause a cataclysm. With our limited ability to predict, it's hard to see other paths existing at all, much less being probable. Additionally, we cannot flesh out the entirety of our existence at any given future time. As much as the devastation we fear could become a reality, reality will likely give us some unforeseen compensation, even if it's only as small as a bar of chocolate.
Other times we feel that the chain of events has already begun, and we are now simply carried through it to it's final conclusion. This is the "never" of our doubts. The things that will never come to pass because the trail we are on does not go there. However, paths do diverge in yellow woods, and there are choices still to be made.
The inescapable truth is, life will always have its sorrows, and will always have its joys. No person is devoid of all, for in depravity the smallest of blessings is magnified, and in bliss perfection cannot last. Even so, the general has never barred the specific. Hope and dream for things yet to come. Worry and plan against what might go wrong. If you find your mind starts to unwind, return to what you know, how you feel, and something specific you want.
Tuesday, October 15, 2013
Oh, the Flames that Warm the Heart
Today, I was mad.
Twice actually. The first was a simple simmering: a defensive reaction to an unpleasant situation. It lent itself to smart remarks and sarcasm with just a bit of bite to it, and although it was fun, it wasn't superbly satisfying and left me unsettled in the end. Yet it left no scarring marks in its swift departure.
The second was the return of an old friend. Again an unpleasant situation with no one to blame, but as the conversation drew on my will to protect myself grew, and fire grew with it. In all fairness, there was no fault. We were operating under different assumptions. Under his, I was wrong. Under mine, he was. And with neither taking on the assumptions of the other, no progress was made, as is to be expected. I appreciate his attempt to rectify what he sees as a problem, as I hope (but do not believe) that he is grateful for my attempt to demonstrate that the problem lies elsewhere.
The point of this post is not the discussion, but the walk home. On a chilly fall night, the light wind slipped through my jacket, but I could not feel it. I was warm. My core was alight in defense of self, and nothing could dampen it. My veins coursed with glowing heat, and my brain buzzed with a taste of invincibility. Could such a feeling lend itself to trouble? Most certainly. It has many a time in my past. But now I see that I was blaming the wrong sentiment. Anger is most certainly my friend, one of my truest. It sticks by me no matter the rationality. It maintains the belief that I am not only worthwhile, I am fantastic, and with head held high challenges all naysayers to defy it.
The true culprit is impulse. However, impulse isn't always bad. As it is, impulse relies heavily on luck, and thus it has a fickle success rate. When tied to any powerful emotion, it considers greater risk. While the reward could potentially be great, the loss that often follows is devastating. As a child, impulse control is feeble, but as we grow, we learn to better rein in our instant desires. As an adult of sorts, I can welcome the presence of emotions and of impulse, trusting myself to handle them well.
Maybe this means I am not as good of a person anymore. That I have withdrawn myself from the porcelain man I have revered: he who is kind and calm in all things, is slow to judge and quick to assist, strength combined with meekness, the daring soul with a heart of gold.
I have given up on seeking that kind of perfection. Instead I live in reality, where I am flawed, and there are many things I cannot do, or at least cannot do well. Where I will not rise to immeasurable success because of my inabilities. Where some will dislike me. Some will not care about me at all. Where there is no escape from the harshness of how things are.
Surprisingly, I've found myself happier now than I have ever been.
Welcome back, Fury. I've missed you.
Twice actually. The first was a simple simmering: a defensive reaction to an unpleasant situation. It lent itself to smart remarks and sarcasm with just a bit of bite to it, and although it was fun, it wasn't superbly satisfying and left me unsettled in the end. Yet it left no scarring marks in its swift departure.
The second was the return of an old friend. Again an unpleasant situation with no one to blame, but as the conversation drew on my will to protect myself grew, and fire grew with it. In all fairness, there was no fault. We were operating under different assumptions. Under his, I was wrong. Under mine, he was. And with neither taking on the assumptions of the other, no progress was made, as is to be expected. I appreciate his attempt to rectify what he sees as a problem, as I hope (but do not believe) that he is grateful for my attempt to demonstrate that the problem lies elsewhere.
The point of this post is not the discussion, but the walk home. On a chilly fall night, the light wind slipped through my jacket, but I could not feel it. I was warm. My core was alight in defense of self, and nothing could dampen it. My veins coursed with glowing heat, and my brain buzzed with a taste of invincibility. Could such a feeling lend itself to trouble? Most certainly. It has many a time in my past. But now I see that I was blaming the wrong sentiment. Anger is most certainly my friend, one of my truest. It sticks by me no matter the rationality. It maintains the belief that I am not only worthwhile, I am fantastic, and with head held high challenges all naysayers to defy it.
The true culprit is impulse. However, impulse isn't always bad. As it is, impulse relies heavily on luck, and thus it has a fickle success rate. When tied to any powerful emotion, it considers greater risk. While the reward could potentially be great, the loss that often follows is devastating. As a child, impulse control is feeble, but as we grow, we learn to better rein in our instant desires. As an adult of sorts, I can welcome the presence of emotions and of impulse, trusting myself to handle them well.
Maybe this means I am not as good of a person anymore. That I have withdrawn myself from the porcelain man I have revered: he who is kind and calm in all things, is slow to judge and quick to assist, strength combined with meekness, the daring soul with a heart of gold.
I have given up on seeking that kind of perfection. Instead I live in reality, where I am flawed, and there are many things I cannot do, or at least cannot do well. Where I will not rise to immeasurable success because of my inabilities. Where some will dislike me. Some will not care about me at all. Where there is no escape from the harshness of how things are.
Surprisingly, I've found myself happier now than I have ever been.
Welcome back, Fury. I've missed you.
Sunday, October 6, 2013
Split Decision
Conference has a way of bringing about emotions and deep reflection. Thus: blog posts. Deal with it.
People all over the world have tragedies to deal with. Death. Powerlessness. Pain both physical and mental. I have been lucky. I've never been in want of physical necessities; very few of those near me have perished, and those that have were already in decline; my independence has only increased at each stage of life I have encountered. My "tragedy", if it can even be called that, is a simple decision between metaphysical factions. Unfortunately, this is apparently not an easy choice to make. So troublesome, in fact, that I have avoided making it my entire life. The reason being: one pleads for happiness, the other pleads for what is right.
These two concepts are often pitted against each other when discussing philosophy, and for good reason. Can something be right if it doesn't bring happiness? Are things happy because they are right? The relationship between these two (if indeed one exists) is heavily debated, and no certain proof has come about. In myself, both sides assert their own main quality, and assume the other comes as a result. Indeed, if one is assumed to be correct, the other is manifestly false. Outside of the two, no argument surfaces to discredit either, and I would venture to say that I've put a lot of effort into rationally proving and disproving both of them.
As logic has failed, decision making often falls to a matter of practicality. Yet again, the factions prove equal. As I believe, there are literally only two things that motivate people to do anything. You guessed it, these factions each claim one.
In one, I've found truth. The world as time moves it is explained. Absolutely everything makes sense. When doubts or questions arise, the method of searching for an answer is straightforward and assured. The framework provided gives a sure foundation for everything else in life.
In the other, I've found joy. Positive emotions I felt nowhere else arise and fill my soul. The misery and despair that threatens to destroy is vanquished instantaneously. Hope is never far. Life is a marvelous thing. Life is worth living.
Either would make a more than suitable choice. Losing either would be a great detriment. And I am punished for my indecision. Sometimes they are both brought before me in great force, and as I do not choose either, I lose the promise of both. I suffer in illogical agony.
Next, why not consider the detriments, and take the side with less? Again, I hit a snag. I fear both.
In searching for truth, I will find falsehood. I must correct it and move on. The learning process is eternal, and thus I will never have all knowledge. Instead I have the promise of never being left wanting, for there is always more I can be taught. And the greatest fear is that it is all wrong. That my search for truth will lead me further into darkness.
In searching for happiness, I will find sorrow. No matter the circumstances, bad things will happen, and I cannot stop or mitigate them. This, too, is a continual process. Always working to gain more happiness, and to share it with others. To work through all the problems we have time for, growing after each one. And the greatest fear is that it's all hollow. That my search for happiness will leave me in despair.
Hmm. Maybe someone else has figured it out! Why don't you look at what others say, and see if anythings has been established? Many people have figured it out, with or without the struggle itself. Their results and conclusions have all been established. It's all crystal clear, except for the fact that the results don't agree. Both decisions are hard. Got it. The right decision... depends on who you ask. There is no lack of vehement arguments for whichever side you choose. In that I can be comforted.
I am torn. My eternal fight makes me weary. And when one side rushes in to claim me in my weakness, the other serendipitously presents its gifts and promises. In the rift between these two the failure faction was born. It has no arguments. Everyone is against it. It doesn't promise anything. Actually, it only promises one thing: an end. The end that erases everything. No hope, no despair. No joy, no pain. No truth, no wrong. In the throes of ongoing turmoil, it is quite a good looking escape. Luckily, the minutiae of continued existence often distract my mind from the hole in my chest, and the battles subside for a spell.
But without fail, they return again to rend my heart.
People all over the world have tragedies to deal with. Death. Powerlessness. Pain both physical and mental. I have been lucky. I've never been in want of physical necessities; very few of those near me have perished, and those that have were already in decline; my independence has only increased at each stage of life I have encountered. My "tragedy", if it can even be called that, is a simple decision between metaphysical factions. Unfortunately, this is apparently not an easy choice to make. So troublesome, in fact, that I have avoided making it my entire life. The reason being: one pleads for happiness, the other pleads for what is right.
These two concepts are often pitted against each other when discussing philosophy, and for good reason. Can something be right if it doesn't bring happiness? Are things happy because they are right? The relationship between these two (if indeed one exists) is heavily debated, and no certain proof has come about. In myself, both sides assert their own main quality, and assume the other comes as a result. Indeed, if one is assumed to be correct, the other is manifestly false. Outside of the two, no argument surfaces to discredit either, and I would venture to say that I've put a lot of effort into rationally proving and disproving both of them.
As logic has failed, decision making often falls to a matter of practicality. Yet again, the factions prove equal. As I believe, there are literally only two things that motivate people to do anything. You guessed it, these factions each claim one.
In one, I've found truth. The world as time moves it is explained. Absolutely everything makes sense. When doubts or questions arise, the method of searching for an answer is straightforward and assured. The framework provided gives a sure foundation for everything else in life.
In the other, I've found joy. Positive emotions I felt nowhere else arise and fill my soul. The misery and despair that threatens to destroy is vanquished instantaneously. Hope is never far. Life is a marvelous thing. Life is worth living.
Either would make a more than suitable choice. Losing either would be a great detriment. And I am punished for my indecision. Sometimes they are both brought before me in great force, and as I do not choose either, I lose the promise of both. I suffer in illogical agony.
Next, why not consider the detriments, and take the side with less? Again, I hit a snag. I fear both.
In searching for truth, I will find falsehood. I must correct it and move on. The learning process is eternal, and thus I will never have all knowledge. Instead I have the promise of never being left wanting, for there is always more I can be taught. And the greatest fear is that it is all wrong. That my search for truth will lead me further into darkness.
In searching for happiness, I will find sorrow. No matter the circumstances, bad things will happen, and I cannot stop or mitigate them. This, too, is a continual process. Always working to gain more happiness, and to share it with others. To work through all the problems we have time for, growing after each one. And the greatest fear is that it's all hollow. That my search for happiness will leave me in despair.
Hmm. Maybe someone else has figured it out! Why don't you look at what others say, and see if anythings has been established? Many people have figured it out, with or without the struggle itself. Their results and conclusions have all been established. It's all crystal clear, except for the fact that the results don't agree. Both decisions are hard. Got it. The right decision... depends on who you ask. There is no lack of vehement arguments for whichever side you choose. In that I can be comforted.
I am torn. My eternal fight makes me weary. And when one side rushes in to claim me in my weakness, the other serendipitously presents its gifts and promises. In the rift between these two the failure faction was born. It has no arguments. Everyone is against it. It doesn't promise anything. Actually, it only promises one thing: an end. The end that erases everything. No hope, no despair. No joy, no pain. No truth, no wrong. In the throes of ongoing turmoil, it is quite a good looking escape. Luckily, the minutiae of continued existence often distract my mind from the hole in my chest, and the battles subside for a spell.
But without fail, they return again to rend my heart.
Saturday, October 5, 2013
Dark Eyes
Brown eyes are my favorite. The darker the better. I have been attracted to many a person with bright eyes, but having dark eyes gives you an instant attractiveness boost in my book.
That, however, is not the subject of this post.
The center of everyone's eyes is that same unrelenting black. Thus the minds that overflow with happiness are colored no differently than the ravaged slums of depression when considering the "windows to the soul." Conversely, everything seems different when looked at behind different eyes. This is where argumentation fails: it is nearly if not entirely impossible to make assumptions you don't have. The political climate is drenched with hordes of individuals who all agree what is obviously, precisely, and impeccably clear. While the event itself is certain and it's implications "obvious", these parties don't agree on what these implications are. Unable to accept that the data says that the results aren't as clear as currently seen, the only other plausible situations are that the other side is completely stupid, belligerently evil, or both. Not the best climate for effective mediation.
The same thing happens in dealing with pain. People don't understand each other. I'm grateful for a friend I ran into recently. I told him some of the things I struggle with, and he simply said, "I don't understand what that's like, but I'm sorry you have to deal with it." I didn't need him to understand, and in fact assuming that you can often backfires. Because when you take pieces of their situation and relate them to yours, you naturally will correlate your further experiences and methods of resolving the problem to what they should do. And as you suggest the counsel they know or suspect will fail (because certain things in their actual situation prevent the outcome you ascertained from yours), they withdraw. Pain is enough on it's own. Watching others try and fail to help hurts more.
I'd venture to say I see things differently than others sometimes. And while it is not fair to them to assume that they will attempt to understand and end up failing, I have a habit of withdrawing. I cannot see the light they bask in. They cannot see the dark turmoil I writhe in. In their light, they often wish to somehow thrust it upon me. Yet I have no desire to infect them with my injury. So while they are counseled to talk, to give, to share, and to make friends, I counsel myself to hold my tongue, to withdraw, to avoid, and to build a wall of smiles: reflecting light shone on it, but icy to the touch.
To those, I apologize. I do wish I did see it your way. That I could commune with you, and together we could chip away at our flaws. That as we listen and discuss counsel given, that we would find our burdens lifted and our resolve strengthened. That our hearts would be knit as our minds think on those we can assist.
But that it not what my tired dark eyes see.
That, however, is not the subject of this post.
The center of everyone's eyes is that same unrelenting black. Thus the minds that overflow with happiness are colored no differently than the ravaged slums of depression when considering the "windows to the soul." Conversely, everything seems different when looked at behind different eyes. This is where argumentation fails: it is nearly if not entirely impossible to make assumptions you don't have. The political climate is drenched with hordes of individuals who all agree what is obviously, precisely, and impeccably clear. While the event itself is certain and it's implications "obvious", these parties don't agree on what these implications are. Unable to accept that the data says that the results aren't as clear as currently seen, the only other plausible situations are that the other side is completely stupid, belligerently evil, or both. Not the best climate for effective mediation.
The same thing happens in dealing with pain. People don't understand each other. I'm grateful for a friend I ran into recently. I told him some of the things I struggle with, and he simply said, "I don't understand what that's like, but I'm sorry you have to deal with it." I didn't need him to understand, and in fact assuming that you can often backfires. Because when you take pieces of their situation and relate them to yours, you naturally will correlate your further experiences and methods of resolving the problem to what they should do. And as you suggest the counsel they know or suspect will fail (because certain things in their actual situation prevent the outcome you ascertained from yours), they withdraw. Pain is enough on it's own. Watching others try and fail to help hurts more.
I'd venture to say I see things differently than others sometimes. And while it is not fair to them to assume that they will attempt to understand and end up failing, I have a habit of withdrawing. I cannot see the light they bask in. They cannot see the dark turmoil I writhe in. In their light, they often wish to somehow thrust it upon me. Yet I have no desire to infect them with my injury. So while they are counseled to talk, to give, to share, and to make friends, I counsel myself to hold my tongue, to withdraw, to avoid, and to build a wall of smiles: reflecting light shone on it, but icy to the touch.
To those, I apologize. I do wish I did see it your way. That I could commune with you, and together we could chip away at our flaws. That as we listen and discuss counsel given, that we would find our burdens lifted and our resolve strengthened. That our hearts would be knit as our minds think on those we can assist.
But that it not what my tired dark eyes see.
Tuesday, October 1, 2013
Serendipity in Meeting Times
Do you ever have those days where you run into everybody? You find ten different people that you never see within a half-hour, and they all seem happy to reconnect for a bit. A very strange occurrence.
It makes me wonder, why now? Why, at this random time, are all these people here for me? Where were they, any one of them, when I needed them most? Why don't they serendipitously find me when I'm lonely and unhappy?
Those times that I cried for someone, anyone, to come help. That the spirit could prompt someone to worry about me. That fate would have my friend accidentally dial my number. That chance would bring my roommate home early.
Maybe it's because my broiling pit of despair should be kept away from everyone else. That in those times anyone who tries to help would only get hurt. Maybe it's because it's supposed to be a trial I face alone. Maybe there isn't really a reason. How often are there reasons for things NOT happening anyways?
In considering these times, my resolve falters. The current plan is to live alone, with a cat. I'd have some small company, and complete control over my living space. I could still live in suburbia, and play with the neighborhood kids. I could have a nice job, and family could visit. I'd have lots of time for things I enjoy, like video games. I'd have no immediate family to worry about. I could always retreat to my solitude when needed. But... when I get sad... it would be nice to have someone around. Someone who was going to stick with me, even though I'm a mess. Someone who needs me too. Someone to live a life with.
And then the thoughts about how that might come about. That I'd happen to run into someone special somewhere. Eventually. Somehow. Potentially. If... And with hope the bright end of an angler fish, I swim back to the safety of a bachelor's life.
It's time for sleep. Back to my single bed.
It makes me wonder, why now? Why, at this random time, are all these people here for me? Where were they, any one of them, when I needed them most? Why don't they serendipitously find me when I'm lonely and unhappy?
Those times that I cried for someone, anyone, to come help. That the spirit could prompt someone to worry about me. That fate would have my friend accidentally dial my number. That chance would bring my roommate home early.
Maybe it's because my broiling pit of despair should be kept away from everyone else. That in those times anyone who tries to help would only get hurt. Maybe it's because it's supposed to be a trial I face alone. Maybe there isn't really a reason. How often are there reasons for things NOT happening anyways?
In considering these times, my resolve falters. The current plan is to live alone, with a cat. I'd have some small company, and complete control over my living space. I could still live in suburbia, and play with the neighborhood kids. I could have a nice job, and family could visit. I'd have lots of time for things I enjoy, like video games. I'd have no immediate family to worry about. I could always retreat to my solitude when needed. But... when I get sad... it would be nice to have someone around. Someone who was going to stick with me, even though I'm a mess. Someone who needs me too. Someone to live a life with.
And then the thoughts about how that might come about. That I'd happen to run into someone special somewhere. Eventually. Somehow. Potentially. If... And with hope the bright end of an angler fish, I swim back to the safety of a bachelor's life.
It's time for sleep. Back to my single bed.
Thursday, August 8, 2013
Chocolate
Sometimes things hurt.
I suppose that is neither a specific nor a novel thought.
The thing I guess I haven't quite caught on to/accepted is that there isn't always a way out. There's no guarantee of a reversal of fortune just around the bend. No friend is going to spontaneously pander to your needs. Furthermore, complaining to your friends won't make anything feel better. There isn't a greater purpose, lesson to be learned, or reward for surviving a trial. It just stings, and nothing is going to stop it.
However, there is chocolate.
I'm gonna go to the vending machines now.
Friday, August 2, 2013
Suckered
EFY kids are nuts.
Working at the info desk today, one of them said a quick "Hi" and hastily dropped a small piece of paper on my desk before running off.
I was slightly worried about the contents, but looked at it anyways.
It said:
"Hey! I just wanted to let you know you're attractive! Have a good day! Pass this on!"
This is most likely most likely a chain that only reached me by dare, and there is absolutely no relationship potential anyways, but I still felt a little twinge while reading it.
My heart's a sitting duck for anyone who says they think I'm attractive.
Thursday, July 11, 2013
Tightrope
I don't know if you've ever tried it, but walking on a tightrope is quite hard.
And if something is difficult, then it's an easy analogy to life!
So here we go:
Life it like a tightrope because...
there's that end goal that you want to get to but can never reach.
it seems like you'll be able to make it if you've got enough momentum.
balance is key.
some people seem to do it better than you ever could.
you kinda feel like a fool for trying so much
no matter how well you feel like you're doing, you're one slip away from falling.
I'd venture to say that the masters of disguise are not chameleons or octopi, but theoretical banana peels. Because no one ever seems to see them coming on the road of life.
And if something is difficult, then it's an easy analogy to life!
So here we go:
Life it like a tightrope because...
there's that end goal that you want to get to but can never reach.
it seems like you'll be able to make it if you've got enough momentum.
balance is key.
some people seem to do it better than you ever could.
you kinda feel like a fool for trying so much
no matter how well you feel like you're doing, you're one slip away from falling.
I'd venture to say that the masters of disguise are not chameleons or octopi, but theoretical banana peels. Because no one ever seems to see them coming on the road of life.
Friday, May 31, 2013
So You Say
People say things.
There are a lot of people. There are a lot of things said.
No one ever agrees.
I am weak, flawed, scared. Very scared. Perfection looms, possibility lurks, and the demons of hope bear wicked grins. I don't know. I don't know a lot of things. I cannot stop. Time will not allow it. So I hope.
Failure. Such a scary word, but what does it mean?
Have I failed if I don't live up to someone's expectation?
Have I failed if I don't have any expectations? Or have too many?
Have I failed if I'm not happy? wealthy? good? right?
Can I only fail by not doing anything at all? Is it really possible to fail?
Is it as objective as it seems to be? Can someone be revered by all and still consider themselves a failure? Can someone be considered failed by others but a success in their own right?
I'm a human. Humans have a sense of desperation that works quite well in making them do things. I fear a future in which I'm penniless. Suffering. A drain on society. Friendless.
By the way people talk, it sounds like the job market is horrendous. That only after months of agony can a lucky individual hope to find a minimum-wage job. People are frightened by a 10% unemployment rate. Which if I interpret correctly, means that 90% of people have jobs. In truth, I'm probably not exceptional enough not to have a job. Maybe the complaining is a result of the unrealized American dream. People unsatisfied with their job, even though it gives them a substantial life.
I worry about grad school. I fret about the prestigious colleges that won't accept me, and the mediocre ones that won't either. I worry about disappointing the people who tell me I'm smart. I'm scared by the people who tell me that graduate school isn't worth it. That it will keep me from getting a job, or will land me in a vicious and cutthroat environment in which I'm doomed to waste friendless and stressed until I realize that I'm simply not good enough. I'm worried about the warnings about all the things I need to be to "succeed", the equally mystic opposite of failure. I need to be charming. I need to be brilliant. I need to be diligent. I need to be outgoing. I need to be perfect. I'm not even close.
I wish that I could see the balance. That I could hear people talk about how they like some parts of their job, even if it's not everything they've ever dreamed of. I wish I could hear talk about how getting a job is stressful, but not unachievable. I want someone to talk about the craziness of getting into and through grad school, but also gratitude for how much they learned. I want someone to tell me that people will appreciate my strengths even through my flaws, just like people do all the time for each other. I want someone to help me know that I'll be okay.
And I'd rather that someone not be me trying to convince myself.
There are a lot of people. There are a lot of things said.
No one ever agrees.
I am weak, flawed, scared. Very scared. Perfection looms, possibility lurks, and the demons of hope bear wicked grins. I don't know. I don't know a lot of things. I cannot stop. Time will not allow it. So I hope.
Failure. Such a scary word, but what does it mean?
Have I failed if I don't live up to someone's expectation?
Have I failed if I don't have any expectations? Or have too many?
Have I failed if I'm not happy? wealthy? good? right?
Can I only fail by not doing anything at all? Is it really possible to fail?
Is it as objective as it seems to be? Can someone be revered by all and still consider themselves a failure? Can someone be considered failed by others but a success in their own right?
I'm a human. Humans have a sense of desperation that works quite well in making them do things. I fear a future in which I'm penniless. Suffering. A drain on society. Friendless.
By the way people talk, it sounds like the job market is horrendous. That only after months of agony can a lucky individual hope to find a minimum-wage job. People are frightened by a 10% unemployment rate. Which if I interpret correctly, means that 90% of people have jobs. In truth, I'm probably not exceptional enough not to have a job. Maybe the complaining is a result of the unrealized American dream. People unsatisfied with their job, even though it gives them a substantial life.
I worry about grad school. I fret about the prestigious colleges that won't accept me, and the mediocre ones that won't either. I worry about disappointing the people who tell me I'm smart. I'm scared by the people who tell me that graduate school isn't worth it. That it will keep me from getting a job, or will land me in a vicious and cutthroat environment in which I'm doomed to waste friendless and stressed until I realize that I'm simply not good enough. I'm worried about the warnings about all the things I need to be to "succeed", the equally mystic opposite of failure. I need to be charming. I need to be brilliant. I need to be diligent. I need to be outgoing. I need to be perfect. I'm not even close.
I wish that I could see the balance. That I could hear people talk about how they like some parts of their job, even if it's not everything they've ever dreamed of. I wish I could hear talk about how getting a job is stressful, but not unachievable. I want someone to talk about the craziness of getting into and through grad school, but also gratitude for how much they learned. I want someone to tell me that people will appreciate my strengths even through my flaws, just like people do all the time for each other. I want someone to help me know that I'll be okay.
And I'd rather that someone not be me trying to convince myself.
Friday, May 17, 2013
Laughing at the Fallen Child
I saw a little boy fall down today.
Pain not good. No like pain. This is a very basic and very general sentiment, and thus when we find someone else hurting, our first response is to stop the pain. Often, this is done through sympathy. I remember reading somewhere that when a child falls, they don't actually have a response. They mirror what their parent does. If the parent looks worried or panicked, the child will cry. If the parent is nonchalant or humored, the child will stand back up, completely fine.
Due to this reading, I wanted to help the child by blowing off the situation and offering to help him up. His mother came to him, so I did not interfere.
Today I also read an article that talks about the current child-rearing practice of allowing all children to believe they are above average, and protecting them from uncomfortable things.
While it is good parenting advice to store for the future, it made me think a lot about myself. They're talking about the kids raised in my generation. They're talking about me.
Arguably, my anxious symptoms could have been caused by too much negative stimulus as opposed to not enough, but either way the result is the same: I am slow to make decisions, avoid leadership, and cannot handle painful situations well.
So now what? The article was directed at the parents, not the children. It was certainly no how-to guide growing up after being protected from everything. That's something I have to figure it out on my own, but it's certainly fitting that it should happen that way.
Incalculable data shows that pain is not avoidable in life. It simply isn't. No matter the bubble of protection someone has, or the shelter from bad things, or luck of the irish, life is going to be unhappy sometimes. The point, as I have come to see it, is not to do anything stupid during these times. And maybe I'll have the best chance of making smart choices in these times if I don't hate them so much. Maybe I won't hate them so much if I can learn to be at peace sitting with unpleasantness. Maybe I can learn to laugh at the fallen child. At a fallen self.
Pain not good. No like pain. This is a very basic and very general sentiment, and thus when we find someone else hurting, our first response is to stop the pain. Often, this is done through sympathy. I remember reading somewhere that when a child falls, they don't actually have a response. They mirror what their parent does. If the parent looks worried or panicked, the child will cry. If the parent is nonchalant or humored, the child will stand back up, completely fine.
Due to this reading, I wanted to help the child by blowing off the situation and offering to help him up. His mother came to him, so I did not interfere.
Today I also read an article that talks about the current child-rearing practice of allowing all children to believe they are above average, and protecting them from uncomfortable things.
While it is good parenting advice to store for the future, it made me think a lot about myself. They're talking about the kids raised in my generation. They're talking about me.
Arguably, my anxious symptoms could have been caused by too much negative stimulus as opposed to not enough, but either way the result is the same: I am slow to make decisions, avoid leadership, and cannot handle painful situations well.
So now what? The article was directed at the parents, not the children. It was certainly no how-to guide growing up after being protected from everything. That's something I have to figure it out on my own, but it's certainly fitting that it should happen that way.
Incalculable data shows that pain is not avoidable in life. It simply isn't. No matter the bubble of protection someone has, or the shelter from bad things, or luck of the irish, life is going to be unhappy sometimes. The point, as I have come to see it, is not to do anything stupid during these times. And maybe I'll have the best chance of making smart choices in these times if I don't hate them so much. Maybe I won't hate them so much if I can learn to be at peace sitting with unpleasantness. Maybe I can learn to laugh at the fallen child. At a fallen self.
Monday, April 29, 2013
Crippled
That's the thing about disorders, they are a commonly targeted weak spot. The right combination of words from the right person. The visual stimulus of a particular creature. The imagined potential of physical harm. Things that are normal to dislike, but are strange to cower from. And what's more, the fear of the thing can enlarge and start to envelop circumstances in which the thing could appear. No meetings with people who could say those things. No environments where the creature might reside. No activities involving anything like that contraption. The mental block raises anxiety levels to above average on normal circumstances, but the real problem arises when confronted with the thing itself. The utter surprise cannot be correctly handled by the mind, which sputters and stalls, unable to move on, unable to understand. Terror runs like poison through the veins, paralyzing as it goes. One can only hope to recover soon.
I'm not sure what the official diagnosis of me would be, but here's how I explain it:
I'm terrified that everyone, without exception, does or will hate me. I'm so afraid of doing something wrong, and I'm mortified when it happens. Tonight, for example, I was talking with my new step-brother about Eve online and battlefield, two games he plays. I honestly thought it was going rather well. I was trying to politely make my exit by saying, "Well, I'll let you listen to the sounds." (He had previously let me hear through headphones the good sound quality of battlefield, which he was presently playing, and had commented on how much he enjoyed that aspect of the game.) To which he replied something along the lines of, "How generous." My brain locked. I couldn't tell if it was sarcasm. Was I not supposed to leave? Was there something else he had wanted to explain to me? Had he not wanted me here all along? Was I annoying? Had he said something the suggest this before and I just didn't catch it? I couldn't function well enough to properly process his "'Night", so I mumbled "same to you" and walked out.
Now I'm downstairs, 40 minutes later, still freaking out. I really hope he doesn't hate me. I mean, it doesn't make sense that he would HATE me just for being annoying. But then if in one day I've already gotten on his nerves he probably doesn't like me. I really don't like when people don't like me. I want my step-brothers to like me. Both of them. I think the other one doesn't like me, but that's probably just me being paranoid. He wasn't avoiding me, he's just busy. Surely. The my-age/older brothers I've wished to have my entire life don't hate me. It's just... just... I don't know. I really don't like my head sometimes. What if they find out? What if they think I'm obsessive? Creepy? Crazy? What if that makes more annoying, and they never want anything to do with me?
What is WRONG with me? Why am I so unsettled by two words? Why can I still see his face when he said them? Why can't I decipher it? Why do I CARE?! It's never going to be mentioned again. He'll just hate me and never let me know. He'll just hate when I'm around. He'll still act nice, but only because he doesn't want to cause problems. What was I thinking. We'd never have been friends anyways.
..... so yeah. Sometimes, like nowtimes, my brain does things. This is enough of a demonstration methinks. It makes me worried sometimes. How am I ever going to be able to live a life with someone else if I'm always on my toes about doing things wrong? As hard as I try, I can't be perfect. I'm going to do stupid things unintentionally. I'm going to get hurt a lot and get paranoid without them doing hardly anything. Two words. That's all it took tonight. Sometimes it only takes a facial expression. And this issue is not my only one. How can I do that to somebody? Even if I fulfill a few needs, I don't think I could honestly burden someone with taking care of me. That's why I'm going to live alone with a cat. Because I'm emotionally crippled.
I should really be able to get a license or something to carry around a comfort cat.
I'm not sure what the official diagnosis of me would be, but here's how I explain it:
I'm terrified that everyone, without exception, does or will hate me. I'm so afraid of doing something wrong, and I'm mortified when it happens. Tonight, for example, I was talking with my new step-brother about Eve online and battlefield, two games he plays. I honestly thought it was going rather well. I was trying to politely make my exit by saying, "Well, I'll let you listen to the sounds." (He had previously let me hear through headphones the good sound quality of battlefield, which he was presently playing, and had commented on how much he enjoyed that aspect of the game.) To which he replied something along the lines of, "How generous." My brain locked. I couldn't tell if it was sarcasm. Was I not supposed to leave? Was there something else he had wanted to explain to me? Had he not wanted me here all along? Was I annoying? Had he said something the suggest this before and I just didn't catch it? I couldn't function well enough to properly process his "'Night", so I mumbled "same to you" and walked out.
Now I'm downstairs, 40 minutes later, still freaking out. I really hope he doesn't hate me. I mean, it doesn't make sense that he would HATE me just for being annoying. But then if in one day I've already gotten on his nerves he probably doesn't like me. I really don't like when people don't like me. I want my step-brothers to like me. Both of them. I think the other one doesn't like me, but that's probably just me being paranoid. He wasn't avoiding me, he's just busy. Surely. The my-age/older brothers I've wished to have my entire life don't hate me. It's just... just... I don't know. I really don't like my head sometimes. What if they find out? What if they think I'm obsessive? Creepy? Crazy? What if that makes more annoying, and they never want anything to do with me?
What is WRONG with me? Why am I so unsettled by two words? Why can I still see his face when he said them? Why can't I decipher it? Why do I CARE?! It's never going to be mentioned again. He'll just hate me and never let me know. He'll just hate when I'm around. He'll still act nice, but only because he doesn't want to cause problems. What was I thinking. We'd never have been friends anyways.
..... so yeah. Sometimes, like nowtimes, my brain does things. This is enough of a demonstration methinks. It makes me worried sometimes. How am I ever going to be able to live a life with someone else if I'm always on my toes about doing things wrong? As hard as I try, I can't be perfect. I'm going to do stupid things unintentionally. I'm going to get hurt a lot and get paranoid without them doing hardly anything. Two words. That's all it took tonight. Sometimes it only takes a facial expression. And this issue is not my only one. How can I do that to somebody? Even if I fulfill a few needs, I don't think I could honestly burden someone with taking care of me. That's why I'm going to live alone with a cat. Because I'm emotionally crippled.
I should really be able to get a license or something to carry around a comfort cat.
Thursday, April 25, 2013
Unfathomable
Have you ever thought about how incomprehensible someone else is?
So many memories and experiences. A lifetime so big they can't even remember it themselves. How they were raised. Regrets they had. Assumptions they didn't even know were there, and the moments when they found out they were wrong.
I like stories from people. Sometimes, people talk to me and I realize just how much I don't understand them. I don't understand anything. Not only do I not know the feelings they go through, I don't know how they think. How they see. I have no clue how their mental perception patterns function. I want them to be happy, because I know I hate being sad. And I also get sad when people don't like me, but people like me when I want them to be happy. Win-win. No depth. I don't know what happy means for them. I don't know pain either. I have my emotions and I've tagged them with words that mirror the word choice used for other people's similar situation. Awkward. Angry. Ashamed.
Maybe we're lucky. Maybe we do all see blue the same. Maybe our emotions are as in sync as we expect them to be. But even then, I've found in the last little bit that I am capable of emotions that I didn't know existed. Me, the buildup of years, with only a slight change in circumstance, can find something new. How new, then, would be the plethora of feelings that are experienced day by day, and year by year, by someone who is different than me? And as everyone is unique, everyone is different from me.
The magnitude of my potential lack of understanding is overwhelming.
So many memories and experiences. A lifetime so big they can't even remember it themselves. How they were raised. Regrets they had. Assumptions they didn't even know were there, and the moments when they found out they were wrong.
I like stories from people. Sometimes, people talk to me and I realize just how much I don't understand them. I don't understand anything. Not only do I not know the feelings they go through, I don't know how they think. How they see. I have no clue how their mental perception patterns function. I want them to be happy, because I know I hate being sad. And I also get sad when people don't like me, but people like me when I want them to be happy. Win-win. No depth. I don't know what happy means for them. I don't know pain either. I have my emotions and I've tagged them with words that mirror the word choice used for other people's similar situation. Awkward. Angry. Ashamed.
Maybe we're lucky. Maybe we do all see blue the same. Maybe our emotions are as in sync as we expect them to be. But even then, I've found in the last little bit that I am capable of emotions that I didn't know existed. Me, the buildup of years, with only a slight change in circumstance, can find something new. How new, then, would be the plethora of feelings that are experienced day by day, and year by year, by someone who is different than me? And as everyone is unique, everyone is different from me.
The magnitude of my potential lack of understanding is overwhelming.
Sunday, April 7, 2013
Constant Change
The only constant is change.
A strange but true statement. It's funny how much we're scared of things happening. Especially at the college age there are so many happening to fear. Relationships? Job? Career? House? School?
The funny thing is that we've been told over and over again that these happenings really don't matter. The initial high/low is real as real can be, but even large events like winning the lottery or becoming paraplegic have little if any effect on our overall happiness. Evidence here.
So within this paradox, we can always be assured that these events that make us so anxious before will have a small impact on how we feel after. Additionally, we will likely make the "best choice" regarding said events when we are level-headed enough to think things through, instead of letting our worry push us to act rashly.
On a similar note, the constancy of change means that any immediate deviation from our normal mood is temporary. The exhilaration you enjoy at any given moment will fade faster than you want. The depths of despair will kick you out soon enough. Given this knowledge, we can always guess what's happening next.
"I'm so happy. This has been an absolutely fantastic birthday."
"..."
"Something is likely going to go wrong soon. Oh well, no use dwelling on something I can't predict."
A few days later
"I don't think I've ever felt quite this much pain all at once. It's interesting because I've never had any feeling that is close to this one. It's a different kind of pain, but it hurts so very bad and I just want it to stop. I have to wait. It'll be okay. It will. I'll be fine."
Lo and behold, some time and a bit of complaining later, and I'm on the mend. I coulda guessed it. I did. For anybody else reading this, it helps. It doesn't mitigate any of the agony, but it helps in keeping me from doing drastic things, which is really all that I can hope for in the unhappy moments. And it doesn't make the happy times any worse knowing that they won't last, so it works pretty well.
Just a thought.
P.S. My dad got me 50$ to itunes for my birthday. I love music so very much.
A strange but true statement. It's funny how much we're scared of things happening. Especially at the college age there are so many happening to fear. Relationships? Job? Career? House? School?
The funny thing is that we've been told over and over again that these happenings really don't matter. The initial high/low is real as real can be, but even large events like winning the lottery or becoming paraplegic have little if any effect on our overall happiness. Evidence here.
So within this paradox, we can always be assured that these events that make us so anxious before will have a small impact on how we feel after. Additionally, we will likely make the "best choice" regarding said events when we are level-headed enough to think things through, instead of letting our worry push us to act rashly.
On a similar note, the constancy of change means that any immediate deviation from our normal mood is temporary. The exhilaration you enjoy at any given moment will fade faster than you want. The depths of despair will kick you out soon enough. Given this knowledge, we can always guess what's happening next.
"I'm so happy. This has been an absolutely fantastic birthday."
"..."
"Something is likely going to go wrong soon. Oh well, no use dwelling on something I can't predict."
A few days later
"I don't think I've ever felt quite this much pain all at once. It's interesting because I've never had any feeling that is close to this one. It's a different kind of pain, but it hurts so very bad and I just want it to stop. I have to wait. It'll be okay. It will. I'll be fine."
Lo and behold, some time and a bit of complaining later, and I'm on the mend. I coulda guessed it. I did. For anybody else reading this, it helps. It doesn't mitigate any of the agony, but it helps in keeping me from doing drastic things, which is really all that I can hope for in the unhappy moments. And it doesn't make the happy times any worse knowing that they won't last, so it works pretty well.
Just a thought.
P.S. My dad got me 50$ to itunes for my birthday. I love music so very much.
Sunday, March 10, 2013
Hurts for Better; Hurts for Worse
I cried tonight. It was great.
Don't get me wrong, these were not tears of joy. It hurt a lot and made me sad to realize the things I was thinking, and that is why I cried. But after I felt it, I was okay.
I get sad a lot. I'd venture to say that I get sad more frequently and more intensely than is healthy. The problem is that most of these times, I shove it down. I'm not supposed to cry. I'm supposed to be strong. I'm supposed to be stable. I'm supposed to be happy. So I yell at my feelings to shut up and stop causing problems. I shut down everything because if I don't then my emotions will start hurting other people, and then those people will hate me. So it keeps hurting until sleep repairs me, and sometimes it still lingers the next day. And soon enough I start hurting again. The process repeats itself, and the problems don't get fixed and I create more internal issues by yelling at myself. I fabricate escapist ideas to block out pain. I fall into despair because I can't face the unhappiness but I can't deny it either.
But sometimes, someone goes beyond the polite and acceptable, "Are you okay? Well, let me know if I can do something," and simply says, "You are sad." At that moment, my barriers break and it all comes crashing down. The flood of sadness sends tears rolling down my cheeks. The fear behind it all screams to be realized. Over and over it shouts its existence. But in this time, the falsehoods wash away. I don't really want everybody to forget about me. I just want to be loved, when I'm scared everybody hates me. Being forgotten is much easier than being hated. I don't really want to leave everybody. I just want to love them, when I'm scared I don't really know what love is. Not being there at all is better than loving falsely.
It hurts. It hurts a lot to have the things I've been avoiding for so long staring me in the face. It hurts a ton to be visibly experiencing the emotion that I'm ashamed of having. But the tears don't run forever, and the fear stops yelling once it's recognized. My heart is still wounded from all the injuries it has taken, but it feels better and so much warmer now that it has thawed. Nothing has really changed. The past is still the same. I'm still Avoidant. I still have to turn in homework tomorrow. But because I was able to be okay feeling these things, I'll be alright. Better than alright, I'll be well. I'll be happy.
TL;DR - This "grin and bear it" thing is nonsense.
Don't get me wrong, these were not tears of joy. It hurt a lot and made me sad to realize the things I was thinking, and that is why I cried. But after I felt it, I was okay.
I get sad a lot. I'd venture to say that I get sad more frequently and more intensely than is healthy. The problem is that most of these times, I shove it down. I'm not supposed to cry. I'm supposed to be strong. I'm supposed to be stable. I'm supposed to be happy. So I yell at my feelings to shut up and stop causing problems. I shut down everything because if I don't then my emotions will start hurting other people, and then those people will hate me. So it keeps hurting until sleep repairs me, and sometimes it still lingers the next day. And soon enough I start hurting again. The process repeats itself, and the problems don't get fixed and I create more internal issues by yelling at myself. I fabricate escapist ideas to block out pain. I fall into despair because I can't face the unhappiness but I can't deny it either.
But sometimes, someone goes beyond the polite and acceptable, "Are you okay? Well, let me know if I can do something," and simply says, "You are sad." At that moment, my barriers break and it all comes crashing down. The flood of sadness sends tears rolling down my cheeks. The fear behind it all screams to be realized. Over and over it shouts its existence. But in this time, the falsehoods wash away. I don't really want everybody to forget about me. I just want to be loved, when I'm scared everybody hates me. Being forgotten is much easier than being hated. I don't really want to leave everybody. I just want to love them, when I'm scared I don't really know what love is. Not being there at all is better than loving falsely.
It hurts. It hurts a lot to have the things I've been avoiding for so long staring me in the face. It hurts a ton to be visibly experiencing the emotion that I'm ashamed of having. But the tears don't run forever, and the fear stops yelling once it's recognized. My heart is still wounded from all the injuries it has taken, but it feels better and so much warmer now that it has thawed. Nothing has really changed. The past is still the same. I'm still Avoidant. I still have to turn in homework tomorrow. But because I was able to be okay feeling these things, I'll be alright. Better than alright, I'll be well. I'll be happy.
TL;DR - This "grin and bear it" thing is nonsense.
Saturday, March 2, 2013
That Someone
I like to pride myself thinking that if someone were to need someone to talk to who wouldn't judge or be offended, I could be that comforting unbiased person.
But I'm not really sure.
Would I really be okay if they told me I was annoying? Could I start lying to them because I want to sugarcoat things for them, when they've been so kind as to share what they're really feeling with me? Could I handle things well if they told me they liked me? Would I respond well to them telling me they think I'm attractive? What if they tell me they think I'm ugly? What if they wanted to do something I thought was dangerous and stupid? Could I support them? Would I really be okay with someone else's conflicting ideas and desires? Even if they completely contradicted my own?
Am I supposed to contradict them at some times? When? How? Am I supposed to fix the problem, or just listen to it told? Repeatedly? Every day? What about when they change their mind? And change it back? Am I supposed to always agree with whatever they currently think? Does that make me a liar? Or does it make me unstable? Should I make decisions for them? Is that too pushy? Should I let them make all the decisions on their own? Is that unhelpful? Am I being extremist? Is there a middle ground that still allows me to be that someone?
Maybe I shouldn't try to be one.
In which case, I probably shouldn't hope to find one either.
But I'm not really sure.
Would I really be okay if they told me I was annoying? Could I start lying to them because I want to sugarcoat things for them, when they've been so kind as to share what they're really feeling with me? Could I handle things well if they told me they liked me? Would I respond well to them telling me they think I'm attractive? What if they tell me they think I'm ugly? What if they wanted to do something I thought was dangerous and stupid? Could I support them? Would I really be okay with someone else's conflicting ideas and desires? Even if they completely contradicted my own?
Am I supposed to contradict them at some times? When? How? Am I supposed to fix the problem, or just listen to it told? Repeatedly? Every day? What about when they change their mind? And change it back? Am I supposed to always agree with whatever they currently think? Does that make me a liar? Or does it make me unstable? Should I make decisions for them? Is that too pushy? Should I let them make all the decisions on their own? Is that unhelpful? Am I being extremist? Is there a middle ground that still allows me to be that someone?
Maybe I shouldn't try to be one.
In which case, I probably shouldn't hope to find one either.
Monday, February 25, 2013
Just Be Happy, Kay?!
Sometimes people make it sound so easy.
"Just affirm yourself."
"Just let go of drama."
"Just be healthy."
"Just follow these few steps."
"Just trust God."
"Just love life."
"Just smile."
"Just be happy."
But I just can't.
I'm unstable, and no matter how happy I may be in a single moment, I will likely be distraught within a week. Similarly, no state of despair will keep me from feeling alright in a couple days time.
If you talk to me at the right time, I'll assure you of my great luck and the abundance of happiness I enjoy. But if you choose the wrong time, I'll detail the horrors of my life that are entirely my fault. So it annoys me when people act like everyone can be happy if they just try hard enough. If they just learn to respond correctly to the emotions that arise in response to unfavorable situations. Maybe I'm just a wimp and can't handle the responsibility of having to deal with myself. Or maybe in all honesty the best I can do is to wait it out and try to do as few stupid things as possible.
Life is hard. Really hard. Things hurt, and when I get hurt I tend to hurt other people. I wish for millions of things that would supposedly make things better, but I have no guarantee that I'd enjoy them at all. I'm often tired of everything. Scared of everything. I wish I were different, better, stronger, happier, but I'm not. And if 20 years of experience mean anything, no amount of wishing is going to fix any of those.
*This is my pessimistic response to a post on another blog. I felt that it would be inappropriate to publicly downplay someone else's happiness and encouragement simply because I'm unhappy. So it stays here instead.
"Just affirm yourself."
"Just let go of drama."
"Just be healthy."
"Just follow these few steps."
"Just trust God."
"Just love life."
"Just smile."
"Just be happy."
But I just can't.
I'm unstable, and no matter how happy I may be in a single moment, I will likely be distraught within a week. Similarly, no state of despair will keep me from feeling alright in a couple days time.
If you talk to me at the right time, I'll assure you of my great luck and the abundance of happiness I enjoy. But if you choose the wrong time, I'll detail the horrors of my life that are entirely my fault. So it annoys me when people act like everyone can be happy if they just try hard enough. If they just learn to respond correctly to the emotions that arise in response to unfavorable situations. Maybe I'm just a wimp and can't handle the responsibility of having to deal with myself. Or maybe in all honesty the best I can do is to wait it out and try to do as few stupid things as possible.
Life is hard. Really hard. Things hurt, and when I get hurt I tend to hurt other people. I wish for millions of things that would supposedly make things better, but I have no guarantee that I'd enjoy them at all. I'm often tired of everything. Scared of everything. I wish I were different, better, stronger, happier, but I'm not. And if 20 years of experience mean anything, no amount of wishing is going to fix any of those.
*This is my pessimistic response to a post on another blog. I felt that it would be inappropriate to publicly downplay someone else's happiness and encouragement simply because I'm unhappy. So it stays here instead.
Tuesday, February 19, 2013
Listen. No, don't.
I want a lot of irrational things. I also want a lot of contradictory things.
Sometimes I tell these things to people. But usually only my counselor. He's marvelous, don't get me wrong, but sometimes I wish there was someone who I could talk to without scheduling an appointment. Someone I could just text and say, "Hey, right now I'm really wanting ___" and not have to hear, "That's ridiculous." "You can't have that." "You shouldn't want that." "Why?" "You're kinda crazy." In truth, my desires are ridiculous, nonsensical, impossible, and unproductive to ponder on. But still, it'd be nice to have someone to listen, and maybe even indulge me from time to time.
Someone who wouldn't be disappointed with me because of the things I want.
Sometimes I tell these things to people. But usually only my counselor. He's marvelous, don't get me wrong, but sometimes I wish there was someone who I could talk to without scheduling an appointment. Someone I could just text and say, "Hey, right now I'm really wanting ___" and not have to hear, "That's ridiculous." "You can't have that." "You shouldn't want that." "Why?" "You're kinda crazy." In truth, my desires are ridiculous, nonsensical, impossible, and unproductive to ponder on. But still, it'd be nice to have someone to listen, and maybe even indulge me from time to time.
Someone who wouldn't be disappointed with me because of the things I want.
Sunday, February 10, 2013
Undone
In the Circle of Life song from The Lion King, one of the lines is, "There's more to see than can ever be seen. More to do than can ever be done."
It was kinda scary to hear that as a kid. I will never run out of things I'm supposed to do. No matter the effort, the infinite mound of tasks on sticky notes can never be reduced.
Solution? Forget about it and enjoy the movie.
I have a rather active imagination, and I've often found that reality never mirrors what happens in my head. Reading it again, I have a different perspective of that line. Instead of fear of the never-ending list, it sounds more like disappointment for the things that will never be. All the relationships unexplored. Adventures not had. Peaceful moments not felt. Words unwritten, books unread. There are so very many things that could bring happiness and joy, and yet they go undone.
That's when "if" comes in to play.
If I had... maybe I would be...
happier
better
stronger
fuller
more
enough
Solution? Forget about it and enjoy the show.
It was kinda scary to hear that as a kid. I will never run out of things I'm supposed to do. No matter the effort, the infinite mound of tasks on sticky notes can never be reduced.
Solution? Forget about it and enjoy the movie.
I have a rather active imagination, and I've often found that reality never mirrors what happens in my head. Reading it again, I have a different perspective of that line. Instead of fear of the never-ending list, it sounds more like disappointment for the things that will never be. All the relationships unexplored. Adventures not had. Peaceful moments not felt. Words unwritten, books unread. There are so very many things that could bring happiness and joy, and yet they go undone.
That's when "if" comes in to play.
If I had... maybe I would be...
happier
better
stronger
fuller
more
enough
Solution? Forget about it and enjoy the show.
Thursday, January 10, 2013
Mis-double-take
It hurts to go back and relive the mistakes you made.
Most commonly I made mistakes because I was infatuated.
But I do believe that I have loved more than I have messed up.
I call that success.
Most commonly I made mistakes because I was infatuated.
But I do believe that I have loved more than I have messed up.
I call that success.
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
To Not Know
I have a resolution!
Originally I had planned not to, as I do not enjoy fooling myself into thinking the small change of a measly number that I'm likely to forget if I attempt to write down the date will miraculously boost my work ethic to a high enough level that I can steamroll through accomplishments and become all that I wish to be. So instead I'm assuming that I will continue to do nothing to improve my health and will thus remain at my current level of attractiveness and strength. Oh well.
BUT! There is something I'm committed to changing, and hey, what's better than a holiday for a time landmark to start from?
My new year's resolution is to lie. Sortof.
I've been living my life with the principle of honesty in highest priority [next to kindness, which will retain it's standing]. By this, everyone should know everything, but because of time they cannot. Even though I'm aware that perfect honesty is an unreachable goal, keeping it as a supposed good one causes problems. It makes me scared unnecessarily, as I fear the reactions of other people should they know xyz, but assume that in a perfect world, they would. More importantly, it allows me to think that I'm somehow entitled to the details of everyone else's life. I need to stop. I need to lie.
Sometimes someone will how I am, and I will lie and say "good". Instead of being uncomfortable with my answer and expecting the other person to pry due to the tone of voice I use, I should accept that they really don't need to know whatever is bugging me, and that I will be fine discussing things that are relevant between the other person and me. It is not just okay but good to sustain relationships with other people based on a few pieces and parts of your personality. It is not fake and bad to act differently around certain people than others because they are friends with a different facet of who you are.
Gaining the acceptance will be challenging, but I don't think it will be quite as difficult as keeping myself from prying and asking unnecessary questions. I love late night talks where I ask question after question trying to piece together someone's entire life story. It does make me feel closer to that person, but in all honesty the details apparently aren't important to me, because I forget most of them by the morning. People are often polite about it, but I don't have the right to steal their sleep to extract information that doesn't matter. I could cheat and just tell people to stop me if they think I'm asking too many questions, but that won't really change me. I have to keep a good eye on myself if I'm going to achieve the personality shift I am resolving to attain.
Although, this resolution goes against my blog. This blog was created so that I could satisfy my desire for openness and honesty while keeping the things I share relatively secret (as few people actually read my posts). Without the need to allow everyone else the ability to know what I'm thinking, this blog is unnecessary Even so, it gets me to write down my important strings of thoughts, and I do enjoy looking back over them from time to time, so I'll keep using it.
The goal is set and now written: I will accept the necessity of not knowing.
I add a slight clarification: I will not be falsifying anything. The "lack of honesty" will be from omission, not fabrication. As attractive as it may seem, living a double life as two personalities that are incompatible is very painful and near impossible. I will always be me, the conglomeration of the Calvin each and everyone knows by pieces.
Originally I had planned not to, as I do not enjoy fooling myself into thinking the small change of a measly number that I'm likely to forget if I attempt to write down the date will miraculously boost my work ethic to a high enough level that I can steamroll through accomplishments and become all that I wish to be. So instead I'm assuming that I will continue to do nothing to improve my health and will thus remain at my current level of attractiveness and strength. Oh well.
BUT! There is something I'm committed to changing, and hey, what's better than a holiday for a time landmark to start from?
My new year's resolution is to lie. Sortof.
I've been living my life with the principle of honesty in highest priority [next to kindness, which will retain it's standing]. By this, everyone should know everything, but because of time they cannot. Even though I'm aware that perfect honesty is an unreachable goal, keeping it as a supposed good one causes problems. It makes me scared unnecessarily, as I fear the reactions of other people should they know xyz, but assume that in a perfect world, they would. More importantly, it allows me to think that I'm somehow entitled to the details of everyone else's life. I need to stop. I need to lie.
Sometimes someone will how I am, and I will lie and say "good". Instead of being uncomfortable with my answer and expecting the other person to pry due to the tone of voice I use, I should accept that they really don't need to know whatever is bugging me, and that I will be fine discussing things that are relevant between the other person and me. It is not just okay but good to sustain relationships with other people based on a few pieces and parts of your personality. It is not fake and bad to act differently around certain people than others because they are friends with a different facet of who you are.
Gaining the acceptance will be challenging, but I don't think it will be quite as difficult as keeping myself from prying and asking unnecessary questions. I love late night talks where I ask question after question trying to piece together someone's entire life story. It does make me feel closer to that person, but in all honesty the details apparently aren't important to me, because I forget most of them by the morning. People are often polite about it, but I don't have the right to steal their sleep to extract information that doesn't matter. I could cheat and just tell people to stop me if they think I'm asking too many questions, but that won't really change me. I have to keep a good eye on myself if I'm going to achieve the personality shift I am resolving to attain.
Although, this resolution goes against my blog. This blog was created so that I could satisfy my desire for openness and honesty while keeping the things I share relatively secret (as few people actually read my posts). Without the need to allow everyone else the ability to know what I'm thinking, this blog is unnecessary Even so, it gets me to write down my important strings of thoughts, and I do enjoy looking back over them from time to time, so I'll keep using it.
The goal is set and now written: I will accept the necessity of not knowing.
I add a slight clarification: I will not be falsifying anything. The "lack of honesty" will be from omission, not fabrication. As attractive as it may seem, living a double life as two personalities that are incompatible is very painful and near impossible. I will always be me, the conglomeration of the Calvin each and everyone knows by pieces.
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