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  • O lord… I really hope I can make money off my neurosis, otherwise I am so ****ed…

     

    O Jeez. If I don’t find success in some creative field, I am going to end up poor and friendless.

     

    See, you would think with all my ranting that I’m a very bitter and angry person; but I’m not. In fact, quite the opposite, I’m pretty happy-go-lucky.  No doubt in part to modern pharmacology. ( P.S. Thanks guys!)

     

    The truth of the matter is that I’m just a hopeless neurotic. It’s cool- I enjoy contemplating every detail thrown into my version of life. Well, not every detail, it has been somewhat of a struggle to stop my brain from over-analyzing, but I’m getting better. Anyway now that I don’t have a drug addiction, a crack head obsession with getting into college, and/or hunger pangs to suppress… my life feels... kinda empty. So what do I do now that my brain is unoccupied by self destruction? I think.

     

    Thinking use to be my greatest vice. I use to let my own mind inhibit my self-esteem through paranoia or other means of feeling shitty. But now I have trained my thinking to be virtuous; I use it to save me from the anguish and discomfort I believe every human is predisposed to. Now I contemplate everything I enjoy contemplating or until I satisfy myself with some inspired perspective.  

     

    And I write/draw simply because if I didn’t I wouldn’t have an excuse to contemplate. It really is as simple as that. Without my creative outlets, I would be just another crazy neurotic with obsessive thoughts. I can either choose to honor my analytical mind as a gift or reject it as a curse.  And let’s face it, the methods I’ve devised for rejecting my psyche do not say good things for the future. I’m an only left to conclude that I am my neurosis, resent it and I am only resenting myself.

     

    But still being myself is not enough to sustain me in this reality, not even in my own. My sincere hope is that I possess the talent to really inspire someone and the perseverance to actually make a living.

     

    P.S. I’m not going to finish my Essay tonight, soon though. It covers this topic and I’m really excited about it. But now, I gots to go to sleep- I have a plane to catch.

     

  • Revelation of the day

     

    I forget the lessons of a rehabilitated teenage delinquent are a little bit foreign to people. Most people just lead the quiet lives I was supposed to and don’t really have to face more trauma than ones inflicted by the grape-vine.

    I swear I’m not trying to sound pretentious. It’s just all that stuff; my past low-life behavior is really as simple as I’m making it out to be. Everyone who is now a homeless crack head was once a little kid with a mom/dad and decided to pick up a crack rock knowing it was wrong. (Of course there are a few exceptions) Yes, I was sheltered, yes the people I was hanging with came from homes much more shattered and broken. But still, they knew how to be good in their circumstances and they knew how to be bad- they made their choices too. They just didn’t have to look as hard as I did to stumble upon all this glorified self destructive bullshit. It took work for me to find what lay right outside their door.

    But I realized I say things so matter-of-factly, like the lessons I’ve learned and experiences I’ve had are like those of the commons. But they’re not.  I’ve had a lot of practice talking about sex, drugs, and hidden motives in the most uncomfortable settings (I.E. in front of an audience with my parents). I express past Ideas, experiences, realizations and conclusions without their alleged drama and it weirds some people out. Because I say it easily, I often expect it to be easy to hear. But it’s not, not everyone is comfortable and/or has the vocabulary to dissect and confront realities that are still so foreign to them.

     

    P.S. I’m going to finish my thingy on Leonardo De Vinci tomorrow and Friday I’m home sweet home. Yay!!!!!

     

  • When I’m bored/lonely I write sad poems about existence. Enjoy.

     

     

    The Simple truth (Inspired by Jose Ortega y Gasset)

     

    Knowledge keeps us company in this long and drawn out drama

    Who could regard existence but with tremors from the trauma?

    Inside there is soft emptiness, slow note by note vibrations

    Grasped firmly by sweet stimuli, distractions through sensations

     

    And every soul and aching heart lives soundly in illusions

    In balanced vessels on the shores, at rest with no intrusions

    Light breezes circle in and out, provoking new direction

    Waters stir by unannounced soon filter through detection

     

    Like soldiers we march proudly on so faithful in our training

    It’s all the same in narrow view; when shining or when raining

    Until the tender kiss of death, time keeps on not to wallow

    We’re told we should feel potency, yet all we feel is hollow

     

    Nothing surged like nothingness, a paradox so bitter

    And what was gold was overlooked in foresight did not glitter

    We wonder next if fate’s so bleak; how can it be idealized?

    What is betrayal if not a covered lie too late when realized?

     

    While Inquiry quakes ignorance we struggle with engagement

     Muscles doubt the memory of our previous arrangement

    Enamel wears tenaciously and the paint begins to chip

    Yet the violinist still plays on aboard the sinking ship

     

    In tragic ruthless glance is our search for which to cling

    The longer we halt destiny the more severe the sting

    A question of salvation now devoid a programmed path

    Master of the rising tide or victim to its wrath

     

    Heroic is this voyage, in innocence set sail

    Those trampled by awareness hale from fallacies too frail

    The knowledge we call refuge is unique to each his own

    But the hunt is what sustains us in the moments left alone

     

  • Long, perhaps boring, but possibly relevant. It’s been in the works a while now…

     

    So, I’ve come to this realization about confrontation. People don’t like it. It makes people uncomfortable. O…oops.

    Well then. Unfortunately I’ve decided to be the grand freakn’ mascot for confrontation. I don’t know why; I’m missing a filter or something… I don’t know if other people feel like this, but I assume some must. I live in kind of disconnect; a limbo or something that protects me from my past social anxieties. To be honest I think its part training (honesty comes from awareness, a skill I honed in rehabilitation) and of course part medication.  Thank you; Pharmaceuticals.

    Sometimes it’s hard for me to remember I actually exist in a society and have to worry about how people will relate to me. I do try to practice tact, but more so I try to make it a point to be honest and maintain awareness through active presentation. This results in my “I don’t know when to shut the *** up” manner and I’m very out of practice when it comes to thinking before I speak. Thoughts = words almost immediately. Not much of a filter. And if I don’t articulate myself in speech or in writing then thoughts= overwhelming introspection which = anxiety.

    I guess I’m just neurotic. I have to spend so much time making sure I don’t suffocate in my internal world that I often don’t hesitate to externalize it. I guess not everyone has practice doing that and I can remember a time when I was afraid to be the bearer of verbalized truth. I still am in certain respects. But really, who cares? Why is so hard to admit that we’re wrong, we’re flawed, we’re sorry, we were unsuccessful, we’ve acted pathetically… Not to say that hearing or admitting those things is easy or pleasurable at all. But words no longer contain their power when they’re not being hushed and treated as though they are contraband. The Truth exists whether we say it or not. The only difference is when articulated, we have the opportunity to learn, to be challenged, to gain an outsiders perspective or to study and analyze an outsiders reaction.

     And yes manners exist and a conversation does have a specific time and place of suitability. But the way I see it, voicing our thoughts and feelings makes the fear of being exposed vanish. I lived so much of adolescence in that very fear. I didn’t want anyone to know that I had no idea what the *** I was doing. I was winging it- still am. Now you know.

     I know, the truth can be hurtful and we don’t want to offend anyone. But personally, I take much more offence when someone ignores me or yes’s me to death.  I know sometimes it’s about fear and not necessarily condescension, but if I’m taking the risk of being honest can you at least show a little recognition. Being disregarded hurts more than any verbalized truth because it’s sheer abandonment; I have presented my feeble human identity in spite of judgment, and you will not to the same. I’m naked and you are fully clothed.

    Fear of confrontation is fear of abandonment; fear of being left helpless and vulnerable. So instead of risk this heartache we maintain our power and leave those around us vulnerable. Do you see what I’m getting at?

    Withholding ones feelings on the matter is compromising oneself in fear of getting screwed over. And though this can take the form of people pleasing, generally associated with kindness, it is completely self-serving. Its cowardice or its apathy; for whatever reason, this hypothetical person won’t stand up for themselves so they become a reflex of those around them. It can seem strong, it often seems selfless, because a person is not acting deliberately on their own needs. But it’s not; it’s someone who is trying to buy acceptance by resisting conflict. And while the rest of us find the strength within ourselves to go after our emotional needs, they make us feel inferior by letting us believe that they have mastered them. But rest assured, we all have them just some of us have found and developed emotional suppressants.  It’s not selfish to voice your concerns, your fears, your thoughts and feelings.  It’s hard, it means admitting you are vulnerable.

    There’s a balance mind you, I struggle to keep myself in check. I do at times have shady intentions and demand attention out of greed. But I do try to speak out of genuine care knowing my peers may not relate or might suspect ulterior motives. I believe that the risk of ringing false and of being judged as incompetent is worth the practice. We need to face the reality of our true powerlessness and learn to submit ourselves for ourselves, and not because it’s easier to be at the mercy of an audience. It’s something I need to manage. I can get caught up in believing I need to be entertaining to be whole person and I thus submit my powers others. Sometimes I pull back in fear of failure as I think of relying on my own.  This is abandonment of self.

    But there will be times when you will be genuinely true to yourself.  You will be absolutely naked in your sincerity without the armor of spite, condescension, and sometimes even humor. You will appear bare, harmless, and weak silently praying for the compassion that you will not be shown. You will be abandoned and it will burn. That is the difference between those who confront earnestly and those who do not. One risks abandonment while the other does the abandoning. One is brave while the other is cowardly. One believes that this truth it is worth the risk of humiliation, while the other either does not, or is not brave enough to return that risk. In my experience, when I am true to myself, under my breath I am hoping to be accepted despite my honesty and desire to express it. When I am not, it’s either because I don’t care or I don’t trust that I will.

    It all goes back to power. If you find yourself in uncomfortable situation and withdrawing from confrontation, you illuminate any chance of lifting the tension. That’s not fair to anyone- especially not you. Your friend may feel the distance and show you their anguish in all its pathos and frailty and you do not reaffirm their faith in you to care. They come to you in surrender and so you appear the victor. But you know what? *** that. Because there is so much more power in assertion of self.

    True, words are often used as cunning forms of manipulation; in fact, it’s rare to see them used otherwise. But we can easily say the same thing for silence.  Both tactics can be used to hurt others and/or to hide our own fragility. Genuine sincerity takes real strength and bravery. To say “Yes I care” knowing the feelings may not be reciprocated is really really hard. To say “No I don’t” is so selfless in its authenticity as you are bearing the discomfort of causing immediate pain to condense the journey to its inevitability. “I care and I know you don’t” is transparent in its blatant manipulation. And To say “*** off” Is abrasive self-defense or just plain cruel.

    But we’re getting closer. Past the desire for spite and to convey the internal pain, comes honesty in the form of clever/creative manipulation. I don’t know that it’s ever truly possible to distinguish between this subtle control and sincerity. I still believe words cannot express totality, especially because everything seems to look more impressive on paper. I guess non-expressed truth is much messier; it’s a concoction of self-centered denials, and raw, uncomfortable emotion. And once converted and articulated it becomes removed, traceable and somehow normalized. Feelings aren’t organized in their true presence and are often accompanied by ever changing and opposing perceptions.  But silence, though understandable through the human inclination toward self-preservation, is abandonment. It is saying without having the decency to say “I’m not going to bother, so deal with this situation on your on your own.”

    The power in sincerity is equivalent to the power in any form of achievement. It takes work to figure out and articulate how exactly you feel. But once you know, it’s really a whole different ball game. In fact you’re not playing a game anymore, you’re being real, and to rise above childish antics- that feels powerful.  You have lifted the burden of uncertainty and now have the power to eloquently express the sincere truth.

    None of this is easy in practice. It’s automatic to conceal weakness when we express ourselves. I’m certainly guilty of it. And I have a lot of practice going beyond transparent spite into creative forms of manipulation. But past creative manipulation- there is sincere truth. It has to be fought for and found and when the anguish is very present, we may not have the strength to execute our search. And once found for the moment, we have to be responsible in our expression and be careful not to cause further regret. The truth has to be delivered with caution if we are hoping for any kind of salvation.

    Sounds manipulative, doesn’t it? It is. But everyone has a different understanding and a different point of view. Intentions will not come across with accuracy to every personality.

    Everyone tends to take statements/ non-statements as personal attacks first and for-most. In time or with practice we can learn to weed out the constructive criticism and/or ulterior motives. I find that girls tend to turn the discomfort inward and see it as a true testament to their innate sense of worthlessness. Boys tend to turn the discomfort outward and see it as a true testament to their peer’s worthlessness. Hardly anyone can see the discomfort for what it really is; a means of self-preservation. It’s nothing more or less than one person either articulating or disguising their vulnerabilities at another person’s expense. So taking this into account, the only way for the truth to be evaluated without being treated as a weapon, is to present it artfully.

    I find girls to be hyper- sensitive to a lack of compassion. We want to be assured that we are understood because we are inclined to doubt ourselves. Boys are almost automatically defensive; compassion can be interpreted as condescension in their eyes. They seem to be sensitive to differences in words and tone and are extra weary of manipulation. I think the bottom line is that we all give each other too much credit. We see the other person as stronger as and more cunning than they are in actuality. We judge with bruised egos and see their action or lack thereof as a deliberate measure taken against us. When really, it’s the same weakness we feel and it’s taken in their own defense.

    Look, I make mistakes. I can be an evil, conniving, and self-righteous ***.  But I reassess my understandings and I question my motives often. Because in all honestly, at the end of the day, I just want to be a good person. I don’t like this; this uncomfortable uncertainty involved in living. I don’t like the self-destructive lies we all hide under. As humans, I just sort of feel like we’re in this together. So here, these are the lessons that have helped me be a better person. And if this rings insincere and sharing this truth doesn’t give you a deep sense of human inter-connection, well sucks to be you, because sharing this does it for me. 

    Just kidding… 

    I do my thing and you do your thing. I am not in this world to live up to your expectations, And you are not in this world to live up to mine. You are you, and I am I, and if by chance we find each other, it's beautiful. If not, it can't be helped.

    -          Gestalt Prayer

     

  • Guess who’s spending New Years Isolated from society?

     

    That’s right, yours truly. Tonight, I’m writing this blog, possibly finishing an essay for another, watching I Think I love MY Wife on demand, and quite possibly getting drunk with dear old mum and dad. Mmm… sounds exhilarating, doesn’t it?  I hate the anti-climactic nature of days made relevant by the media. I’ve been trying really hard to not care about being loser- but today is just one of those days I get to be made starkly aware of how uncool I really am.

                    It’s ok, no one’s really cool. Cool is a synonym for apathetic hottie with a shortage of priorities. Apathy is an illusion that has to be practiced as emotions are part of the human condition. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. And everyone has goals, some people just don’t do *** about them. There  we have it; we just exposed cool as a façade.

                    It’s funny. Here I am being all bitchy and bitter about not doing *** on New Years but the truth is this is probably the best new years I’ve had since 8th grade. Here’s a brief timeline for you.

    9th grade- Walked into a house of belligerent high school freshman; some in tears, some in vomit. Got wasted off an alcohol-Nyquil concoction, and ended up cheating on the guy I was hooking up with and actually liked (in his presence) with some grimey high school senior. Shitty, Shitty night.

    !0th grade- Rehab, 10:30 Curfew.

    11th grade- Alcoholics Anonymous Booze- free New Years in Canada. Guess what stupid teenage ex- druggies do when there are no drugs or booze? They ***… I was 15 and spent the whole night telling this 16 year old kid that “it wasn’t going to happen.”

    12th- Oh, who could forget beloved senior year. It was right around the time I started drinking again. I told myself I wasn’t a stupid teenager anymore, I could do this responsibly; treat myself with respect. Wrong!!! Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. I had a party at my house. I, I don’t want to talk about it. It wasn’t that bad I promise, I just fucked up- that’s all. Life was an avalanche of ***-ups after that. One mistake and I forced myself into a party-girl coma. I get like that, all or nothing. I think I try to justify my actions by establishing a whole new identity.

    ***. ***. ***. ***. ***. ***. ***. ***. ***. ***. ***. ***. ***. ***. ***. ***. ***. ***. ***.

    It’s ok, I’m ok. It’s just one of those days I just feel- icky. I’m so little, you know? I still feel like a ten year old in so many ways. I’ve always been a very eager little child, I walked and talked early, I guess I just wanted to experience life. And in a lot of ways I’m glad I did. But, it doesn’t always feel good. Sometimes the empty moments just sting. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to evoke pity or anything- It’s just how I feel. It will go away when I get lost in the distractions of life all over again. I just, I want to let you know that it’s not worth it. Reckless abandon might make for a good story and it provides some perspective, but it’s hard to live with sometimes.

    I know. Everyone makes mistakes, everyone feels guilt and shame, it’s inevitable. It’s just… be careful. I’m very lucky. I’m physically healthy, and pretty emotionally sound, but not everyone will be so lucky.  Living only for the moment, not believing in consequences isn’t valiant, it’s a spineless fallacy. The Cool thing to do, is often naïve and self-destructive, in all its revered glory. Nothing is a hurdle in time that can be jumped over and forgotten.   Just sit, let the pain course through your veins, it will have to sooner or later. Life is filled with boring lonely and empty moments- and it’s ok. Noise-canceling headphones, remember?

    It’s so strange. On the verge of my eighteenth birthday, I feel like I’ve come out of a four year- coma. I should rework the 12 steps; I still have them by the way, all my old therapy assignments… One of these days I’ll give them the once over. Now, I just want focus on the present, not forget, just let go of the old stupid bullshit…

     

  • Holy ***

     

    Eternal Sunshine of the spotless mind… What a fucking awesome movie. Why can’t more movies be that honest. Isn’t crazy? The fears, the secrets, the memories we’re all protecting is all stupid childhood bullshit that all of us, every single on us, have. And when we say them out loud, sure it’s pathetic, but that’s childhood, we hurt and we didn’t understand. And our feelings; the situation at hand. Is so much less dramatic when you just tell it like it is. There so many layers of lies… Every word is a lie. Words just can’t… even when you think your being honest… there’s layers and layers of self-defense. Its self preservation: parts of our brain shut off to protect us from the reality of the situation; that we are stupid, we are animals, and we have no idea what the *** we’re doing on this fucked up planet. That is so scary… we’re afraid of life as it is because we will learn that life as it is, is only how we see it… That’s right everything you and I believe is twisted and turned to fit our own unique neuro-anatomies. It’s not that we exist completely alien of each other in fact we’re all so very very alike because we all have this futile commonality: we’re all lying to ourselves, just with different automatic responses from different circumstances and different memories.

    The better you understand yourself, the better you will understand everyone else.

  • Without TV life is as boring as it was meant to be

     

    Anybody else marvel at the dexterity of their fingers? So cool. Ooo, and isn’t it interesting the different media journeys we all take, the different e-mails, the different adds that pop up and spark our interest. The different songs and books we discover. The different people we meet. The different lessons we learn… Weird huh?

    Anywho, Welcome to my 3-dimential world of Dr. Seuss level drama. All the people I think about and write about in my shameless female preoccupations- all have similar names that rhyme or sound the same. (I think the most relevant moral of my story is to find friends with cool names)

    The world is made up of triangles. Triangles among triangles, among triangles. You have no idea what I mean by this and it probably sounds crazy. But I don’t feel like explaining myself. I want to taunt my readers/ laptop with the idea that this revelation could in fact be genius. In these triangles everyone is a sinner, and everyone’s a saint. Guilt and innocence do not exist- ask each person to point to the antagonist and you will get a triangle. Life is big. Just look around you. Spend two minutes looking up at the sky and you feel so teeny tiny and insignificant. As a result the drama in your life feels even more insignificant.

    I’m sorry. But seeing as how facebook, my laptop, the sky, and books are my only friends right now, I feel so detached from the social world. It all seems so silly. But I know I won’t feel that way pretty soon. It feels very real when you’re in it. Wish me luck. I hope I can still laugh and love myself at the end of the day when there’s thick murky air lurking in every direction.

     

  • Calling a spade a spade, part II

     

                    Why do some boys treat girls like we want to castrate them? I assure you we don’t; we’re very interested in having that part of you guys work.

    As if monogamy was really such a horrible thing to want. As if it was our choice to actually want it. Sure it’s become symbolic, but literally it’s got to be a biological extinct.

    I hate politeness. When we don’t say what’s on our mind, life turns into a power game. Who can avoid confirming who’s fears, who can avoid falling into a stereotype, who can avoid appearing weak?  G-d, it’s so fucked up.

                    Guys are just pissed because girls have so much power over them. They don’t get it. If they don’t want what a girl wants, why do they still want her? *** you. It’s our biological advantage. As animals we need to have this great power of seduction. Suck it up and deal with it. The more sincere our communication, the more likely that neither one of us will feel victimized by power of the opposite sex.

     

  • My Dog is so cute

    My Dog is so cute

    Puppy puppy puppy. I love that furry mongrel. He’s such a little gremlin… G-d damn it. I tried to write a stupid space filler blog tonight and I ended up writing like three different letters and two different essays. Rrrrr….Does that ever happen to you? I was planning on writing like two sentences so I could work on this Leonardo De Vinci essay but once I started following one train of thought… I couldn’t freaking stop. O Jeez. See you guys later. I’ve been writing for hours. *Please see previous blog* I gots to go to sleep.

     

  • I am sooooooooooooooooooo board- and I’m guessing it shows.

     

     

    G-d, my new and friendless life here in the burbs is soooooooo boaring. It seems that all I’ve managed to do for entertainment is wreak havoc and cause drama in the lives of others with my tactless banter. How I’ve managed to push buttons and lose additional respect (I really thought that impossible) all from the comforts of my new living room half way across the country- I cannot say for certain. But I guess it displays some talent, no? I’m sorry; I know it’s not funny to cause mayhem. But my mind is just boggled that I would inadvertently have any serious effect when I’m hardly in a position of power. My life right now, is nothing short of drab.

     

     

    Don’t get me wrong. It’s absolutely beautiful here. My house in the hills is charming and tranquil. My view of a Buddhist monastery shrouded in nature is definitely a pleasant shade of Zen.  And the sky, Jesus Christ, I can’t remember the last time I could look up and see stars so distant they reveal the heavens in its natural dome. I love being with family. I love being with my dog. But I miss the people who love and support me and do not biologically or absent mindedly have to. Thank G-d for souls so kind and patient.

     

     

    I suppose I’ll take this opportunity to present my description of friendship at it has crossed my mind recently in evaluating my relationships at school. The truth is; you would be hard-pressed to find a favor that I would not do to lift a true friend’s spirits. With the exception, of course, of an act that violated my morals and/or one that would clearly have to be done at my own expense. I have needs too and as I mentioned before I have only my discretion to evaluate which are of more importance. Clearly I will have some bias, you can only guess in whose favor. But seeing as how I am not working on a cure for aids and that I am a fairly sensitive individual, I tend to be very generous with my time and endurance.

     

     

    And as my friend, I want nothing from you. I want no favor or explanation that you do not feel inclined to give out of love or loyalty to me. I want only to have a fair and trusting relationship with a fair and trustworthy person. I expect that you would want the same. So I will apologize and try to be of some assistance when I am not living up to your standards. But of course I must be assured that it is of some consequence when you are not living up to mine. I know in my confrontational manner I tend to make people uncomfortable so I do have patience for defensive reactions. Humor, anger, and even temporary meanness are all understandable in my mind. But disregard and sincere condescension are entirely different. Perhaps I have not been around enough tenacious self-important ass-holes to clearly differentiate; well, it seems I am in the right school for practice.

     

     

    *Quap-chhh* (simulated whip sound) Take that!!!

     

  • I’m sorry; I know that I am a little blunt for people’s tastes. But I am a big fan of calling a spade a spade.

     

    My sexuality is my G-d given weapon to use. And I am luckily expected to act insulted when it is attempted to be used against me. But truthfully I don’t feel insulted; I just refuse to let my one true power over the male species act as my Achilles heel. I do nothing, at this point; to physically demonstrate sexual recklessness and so when I am called a *** I defend myself adamantly. But silently, I laugh at any male’s pathetic attempt to overpower the biological advantage that I have over him.

     

    This is the general rule of thumb. My emotional needs burn with the same vigor that your sexual needs do, though we all have varying degrees of both. Whether either one can truly be classified as a necessity is a horse of a different color. But for now we are assuming they are dominant enough that when left overlooked they will obstruct our quality of life. And so if we must be literal, the inter-sex dynamic, or at least the one that I expect, is nothing less than a fair trade- an equal partnership if you will: A stimulating and fulfilling balance between satisfying our very different brain and bodily needs.     

     

  • Please note: As humans we all have flaws. I’m just more up front about mine. Perhaps that is a flaw in itself? I’ll think about it.

    I know this post will come off rather passive. It is. But I do think they are words worth noting.

     

    I truthfully try to suppress my power-hunger or at least I try to channel it harmlessly.  I want to refrain from being a ruthless *** and I have no interest in causing any misery. I know that in life it is often very hard not to take things personally; I am very sensitive to this. But know that I only wish to be a good writer and to showcase the talent that I’m working hard to develop. If I can avoid doing this at the expense of others, I will. I know the previous post is rather tactless and I will revise it soon for my own reasons. But please, to anyone I have hurt or may hurt in my writing, take comfort in the fact that I do care deeply about human emotions. And while I may not have a problem confessing my own flaws, I can respect the prideful nature of this world. I can respect anyone that wants to remain under the cloak of human decency. It is only my subjective opinion that this term is just a fallacy and that we are all weak and selfish.

     

    Know that my opinion reveals nothing about the quality of any one person and only displays how I choose to perceive them. The light that I shed upon them has far more to do with my own emotional reactions, my own flaws, then who they are as people. I am imperfect (shocking, I know) and all I have to go on are the ways that I have felt and understood the world around me. I assign past emotions and interpretations to people who display some of my past behaviors. It is in my nature, for better or for worse, to think until I make conclusions or deem it impossible to do so. Perhaps this is how I get my power; by assigning self-invented explanations to nearly everything.

     

    It is possible that I am way off base just as it is possible that I am right on target. How accurate you judge my depiction is only a testament to my talent or lack thereof. I am aware that I can never really know how true my understanding, especially because I am often pessimistic about people’s true level of self-awareness. That is perhaps my own flaw. But please try to remember, whoever you are, that once you become a literary described representation of yourself, you are hardly more than a fictitious character. I am not apologizing for how I see or once saw a particular motive or situation. Nor should you apologize for how reading my interpretation makes you feel. Depending on who you are, I will listen to your reaction and evaluate whether your emotions are more important to me than my commitment to self-expression. It’s just, I have troubled myself long enough with other people’s judgments and I am quite ready to kick that habit.

     

    I refute any attempt at guilt, spite, or just plain denigration with stern apathy. Once in a while I excuse emotional responses if they have an equal amount of legitimacy. I do try to be an open person, even to criticisms I don’t like to hear but only if I believe them to be well-founded. I guess what I am trying to say, is that despite my efforts, I am still a self-centered person who will defend her own vulnerabilities at the expense of others. I do not believe this to be anything more or less than human and I do not expect anyone to be above this natural mechanism. I understand people will react emotionally to what I have to say, I just refuse to turn their accusations inward. Just as I say my perceptions only reveal my own qualities, so too do I hold this true for others.  

     

  • But I’m a Creep… (Revised-I kicked myself and took the original down)

    To whom it may concern,           

     

     I would just like to preface by explaining precisely why I chose to revise this particular blog. You may have picked up on the fact that it started out as a private letter which is why I did not care to edit rather intimate confessions. But upon its completion I became rather pleased with myself and my finished work. Has that ever happened to you? You get an assigned prompt and suddenly a light bulb goes off in your mind and you feel this adrenaline rush when riding your train of thought. And after you’re done you hold your pretty creation in your hands with sheer glee as you can hardly contain your excitement to turn it in for grading. Well, that’s how I felt. There was so much of me in this letter; so much raw, real and ugly emotion in all its helplessly varying stages.

     

    But this letter is an old assignment and old assignments often lose their past adoration. I have other works, and works in the making that I am equally and perhaps more proud of.  So seeing as how my zeal has past, I think it best to keep some of these opinions some-what hidden. As I don’t enjoy pointlessly insulting others and I certainly don’t like what doing so says about my character. For this particular piece of writing, I did make an exception and I’m sure that there will be other exceptions in the future. But until support and candor is cultivated within my community, I wish to coexist with my peers as peacefully and respectfully as possible.

     

    I hope to someday be an earnest and frank artist who finds pride in her precision and not in the appeal of her creative lies. As power is not my goal in life, authenticity is. So in the situation described below, I have no problem admitting that the level and open display of anguish is rather pathetic. I’ve forgiven my silly silly self in the name of my artistic voice. But it is not my intention and I think it unfair to spite those who got caught in the cross-fire of my decisions. Guilt and innocence are only judgments of which I find deceitful to matter-of-factly pass.  

     

    Though I sincerely don’t want to hurt anybody, I won’t say that I will never cross this boundary. At the end of the day, my work is my self-perpetuation and it is where my loyalty must currently and primarily lie.  Once again:            

     

     I can totally relate to feeling uprooted, I understand. It’s not easy to be far away from what you know and love, whatever that may be. It can definitely make one lose their mind. For whatever its worth, I want you to know I think your discomfort is justified.

     

    As for the whole boy thing, if it makes you feel any better, with all the “experience” that I have, I still don’t know what the *** I’m doing. I mean, it’s not really hard for me to talk to boys, unless I perceive them as having superior magnificence in some way. But even then I remind myself “Ok, Sam, they’re people too, they have childhood pains, they have dorky obsessions, and they’re self conscious…” It’s just when I like a boy, I get a lot more awkward. I think about what to say, I contemplate what to do, I don’t want to scare him away, but I don’t want to appear week… I guess what I’m trying to say is that I think relationships are just one of those things… Seriously, everyone seems to suck at them. Or maybe I just like to believe that because it makes me feel better about myself. Regardless, I have come to this conclusion. “I am going to unswervingly stay true to who I am and how I feel and hopefully somebody [with a lot more mental stability] will have the patience to take that on.”

     

    I guess somewhere along the line I just got sick of fucking myself over looking for satisfaction only externally. I learned pleasure cannot come from only reaching out to others, and life-fulfilling satisfaction cannot come from only pleasure.  I don’t know if those life lessons pertain to your particular struggle but I’m trying to tell you that the grass isn’t any greener on this side. I hope that it helps to hear that.  

     

    Boys… man, they can really, really, make you feel good… But rrrrrrrr are they infuriating.

     

    As for the boy who was recently in my life, he was not the one from my RED essay. He was not a boyfriend either. We were friends in college. He’s on my floor and I had/still sort of have a crush on him. He was completely involved in his work, perhaps you know the type? A total head case; a tortured soul- I find that so incredibly sexy. I know it’s not uncommon for girls to seek power personalities- and that’s exactly what he was; your run-of-the-mill emotionally-unavailable white, Anglo-Saxon, protestant, male (with pretty blue eyes). I would say in terms of intellectual maturity he was way ahead of the rest of us, as for social maturity- I’d give him about eleven, maybe twelve years old. I found that endearing. So this is how the storey goes…

     

    We hung out a lot. Ok, I basically forced myself on top of him a lot. But he didn’t seem to mind all that often… We had some fun: Shared a few laughs, a few moments, a few arguments, and a few good conversations. I felt the occasional spark but that could have just been me. I’m turned on by tension, which occurred often as I happen to embody every over-emotional, undisciplined, irrational, abrasive characteristic he detests in girls. I toyed with telling him I liked him but I decided against it for several reasons.

     

    The first was that it took me a while to warm up to him. Like I said, his obvious judgment kind of turned me on but it also made me feel wildly insecure. And then, though it wasn’t that long ago, I still thought it was possible for a person to have it all figured out. I still toyed with the idea that everything I believed could be wrong. My emphasis on creative expression, compassion, sincerity, interpersonal connectedness, spirituality…- yeah I thought my “progressive” outlook on life could have possibly held no bases in reality.  And I thought that if I were to be proven wrong he would be the one to do it- the atheist, science-obsessed, brilliant, workaholic. So I guess I was scared that I actually was inferior… But I got over it pretty fast.

     

    As I listened to him speak I learned that his arguments were no more well-founded than my own. We were just on opposite sides of the spectrum. And the “correct” outlook probably lies somewhere between our two extremes; the ones of rigid pursuit of purpose and thoughtless pleasure over-indulgence. I never really let him know that I was considering his life-style and I seldom let him see me doubt my own. I remained cautiously true to my then state of mind because authenticity is still what’s most important to me. The hard part is discovering, defining and maintaining a healthy state of mind.

     

    But a while back I reached this point in my life where I refused to be accepted for anything more or less than who I believe myself to be. I know that the intellectual me- in all my quirks and meaningless obsessions- is worthy of affection. That doesn’t mean I think everyone should like me. But with time and patience, I know I can connect to most people. I think most people would connect to most people if we didn’t live behind such stifling social barriers. But that is neither here nor there. The point I’m getting at has to do with why I would not “make the first move” and tell this boy that I liked him (hehehe). And the second reason was as simple as this: I wanted him to do it. I wanted the validation that he was interested in me. I decided that, no matter how much I liked him, any type of relationship wouldn’t be worth it unless it was mutually desired.

     

    The third reason was because I didn’t want to scare him away. I said to myself “If this is going to happen, it’s going to happen right.” I didn’t want to suck his face when I had the liquid confidence. I wanted this to happen when we both felt comfortable; when I felt secure enough to be myself and when he had the confidence to hit on me. I thought I made his job pretty easy, if you only saw me, I was pretty fucking transparent.But like I said, I have no idea what the *** I’m doing. I caught myself at times when I would find him forward and I would pull back like a little girl. It was interesting how vulnerable I felt when I wasn’t taking control and how much courage I had to muster to take control with him. The challenge was exhilarating and sadly a very unnecessary distraction as I was not exactly mentally healthy at the time. My goals, my future… that stuff was hardly in the cards. I was doing very little to secure any type of role in greater society and I really had no intention of being a student.

     

    Looking back I can’t believe how hopeless I felt. But I think through all the self destruction of senior year, I forgot to value my potential as a person. I stopped believing I was worthy of a future and hard; intellectual, time-consuming, school-work hardly seemed to carry any relevance. I wanted to go back to New York, be a yoga teacher, and continue to starve myself. That part is really pathetic and I can write about my late eating disorder for hours, but I’ll spare you. The bottom line is that it was one of the many self-destructive coping mechanisms I fashioned and one I had a particularly hard time letting go of. It was very, very hard for me to check myself out of the eating disorder mentality as I got very, very high from having power over sustenance.

     

    I’m not so lost anymore. I believe in myself once again. I’m excited to do my school work, to test my potential, to learn, to broaden my horizons, to express myself intellectually, creatively, and all that jazz… but I really had to take some time off from school to treat my long-running existential crisis. As I realized I could no longer afford to conceal it behind habitual self-destruction. I was beginning to get there. I began to feel passionate about my artistic voice, I was beginning to crave calculus, and I started to find pride in some of my assignments. But it was too late in the game and I couldn’t bear the burden of under-achievement with the still self-esteem depreciated body I contained. When this book thing came along; the tour and the publicity. It took me back to a time when I believed that the power of my brain would deliver me to purpose. “Finding Myself in Utah,” ironically, became my life raft once again. RED was my excuse to ditch this ship wreck, and I milked it for everything it was worth. I think leaving was so good for me you have no idea.       

     

      “And this is the simple truth- that to live is to feel oneself lost- he who accepts it has already begun to find himself, to be on firm ground. Instinctively, as do the shipwrecked, he will look round for something to which to cling, and that tragic, ruthless glance, absolutely sincere, because it is a question of his salvation, will cause him to bring order into the chaos of his life. These are the only genuine ideas; the ideas of the shipwrecked.”-José Ortega y Gasset

     

    Before I officially made my decision to embark on new recovery, I was still trying unsuccessfully to get my *** together. I wanted to talk about it but I couldn’t bring myself to tell him. I just, I didn’t think he’d get it. Or I didn’t think he’d want to hear me go on and on about why I’m not mentally stable enough for college. That’s the kind of bullshit I know he can’t stand. G-d, thinking about it now- my seventeen and two thirds years old (As I am now two weeks from my 18th birthday) mentality feels light years away. But I was in funk- the semester had passed the half way mark and my hope for grade redemption was fading… I was irritable, depressed, and I had a slew of reasons to feel like an intellectual failure (This boy was generous enough to name a few in his ritual art school bashings. I was never offended by them though; I always found the fact that I was being mocked for not being a complete nerd so laughably ironic). I didn’t feel like I could talk to him about these feelings because I didn’t think he’d care. I feared his reaction would somehow lead me to the inconvenient truth- that I put this on myself. When I realized I was letting my interest in him distract me from the mess I had to clean up, I only further resented myself. This whole thing- every immature means I used to deny my responsibilities in life as I refused to know it- just further took a toll on my self-worth.

     

    This brings me to my last reason for not “making a move.” At a certain point I didn’t think I could handle a relationship with him and I didn’t think I could handle the rejection if he didn’t want one.  It was one of those, O-so-sucky, lose- lose situations. In fact, passing up the chance to revel in the RED fruits of my labor, to get 3 c’s and watch my self- esteem issues manifest themselves, was beginning to look like a very unwise decision. It was clear to me that I needed a little recovery time and going on this book tour seemed to be just what the doctor ordered. I needed to rebuild some self-respect, I needed to rediscover value in achieving, I needed to better prepare myself for the self- sustainment involved in being a college student. And the truth is. I’ve done a tremendous amount of work to find that. Yes, there is room for improvement. No, I am not perfect. But I have confidence, I believe in myself, I like myself, and I’m proud of myself. And that is what I need for now to march on like a soldier. Not to say the journey is over. I know now that all this self-acceptance stuff only exists in pursuit. Believe me, I’ve learned the hard way that to care about oneself, one must care for themselves and remind themselves encouragingly each day as to why. It’s not easy, but I believe now that it is 100 percent worth it. Life’s too short, you know?

     

    But back to the original topic of this extremely tangential letter- the boy. Ahh, yes. I told him I was leaving and at first he seemed totally supportive. He really heard me out when I explained my logic. I knew it was in his nature to view my surrender as week or at least I had prepared myself for that reaction- but he was really sweet. Awwwwww. And just like that, my circumstances had gone from rather grim to really hopeful……Well I guess you can’t win’ em all.

     

    Sometime later in the week, days before I was scheduled to leave. One of our mutual friends expressed concern that I was leaving because of him. How the conversation went exactly, I have no fucking clue. All I know is that he, being the genius that he is, figured out that I had feelings for him- all by himself. And when he asked this mutual friend, she confirmed and expressed concern that he was the reason I was taking my little sabbatical. And being the genius that he is- he believed that to be true.

     

    It shouldn’t have surprised me. I already knew he didn’t think very highly of the rational of girls. But what still leaves me dumbfounded was that he reacted with anger. Upon retrospection (I’m such a fan of big words these days) I realized he was very mean to me that night. But don’t worry, I fought back. I got drunk and acted like a ***. I am very good at getting drunk and acting like a ***. So we had a fiery debate that night- what was is about again?- O yeah; affirmative action.  I guess at that point he knew that the action I was trying to promote was not limited to just the affirmative… Never the less the damage was done. The tension could not be resolved that night as I was still in the dark about its true origins.

     

    This storey is unnecessarily lengthy and I haven’t even gotten to the letters. But don’t worry- this is precisely where they come in. I found out why he was being a meany and I felt like ***. How the *** was I supposed to hold his attention long enough for me to explain all this to him? I couldn’t even hold his attention when he wasn’t mad at me. And how the *** was I supposed to feel comfortable doing so when I could hardly open up to him at all? It was so awkward. Not only did I have face up to the boy I liked, but I had to face up to the boy I liked who thought I was mentally deranged and obsessed with him. “O ***.” How am I going to charm my way out of this one?

     

    Alright, to be fair, I was too attached. I did think about him a lot, and I did value his opinion too much. I’m not sure that I’m so far from the level of mental-disturbia that he was passively accusing me of. But in my defense- I know I’m crazy and I’m pretty weary of it. After careful self-assessment, I determined that my attraction to him extended beyond my own lust for self-indulgence. But really, who knows?

     

    Anyway- time goes by- I’m still in the dark- it’s the day before I’m leaving and I’m hurt. I like him, I told him, and he won’t help ease the angst. I can’t exactly pin point why I was so hurt then because I don’t feel that way now. But I guess I took it all very personally- I started toying with ideas like “if only I was a c-cup, he would work this out with me.” I felt very weak and very vulnerable, so I did what I always do to make sense of situations; I wrote. I wrote hoping I could intellectually regain my dignity and strength.

     

    The letters I wrote were at best, somewhat reasonable. But the majority were provocative and distastefully condescending. Tell me, what was I thinking? I mean, it doesn’t surprise me that I wrote them. It surprises me that I had the intention of sending them thinking they would negate his belief that I was insane. I have very backwards logic, don’t you think? Thank g-d I had enough sense at the time to with-hold at least some of my self-expression and therefore maintain the little dignity I had left.

     

    I wrote this one letter that nearly left me in tears- that’s how pathetic I am. I don’t know. I know it’s stupid and completely ridiculous of me to believe I understand and truly care about a boy I’ve known for all of 3 months. But I analyze and empathize with people- always- I do it unconsciously sometimes. Part of it is a reflex; it’s how I protect myself from feeling inferior. I remind myself that everyone’s human and has unique and intricate character lies. But part of it is also real empathy I feel. I know how crazy and painful it can be sometimes to exist at all. I often want to alleviate that pain both out of compassion and because connecting on that deep human level seems to alleviate my own. But I can’t always do that for people- especially him as I have come to understand people like him.

     

    Though I do find those letters bizarrely eloquent and amusing, I have decided against leaving them up on my blog. I’m glad I made that decision. It’s not fair to him to overwhelm him with my very intimate inner-quarrels. And it’s not fair to me to publicly (or privately if I can help it) submit so much power to one person.

     

    I did see him when I went back to school for that week (he is after all on my floor). We shared one accidental and uncomfortable encounter and as much as I thought I was passed it all- I missed him again. I wasn’t angry, I wasn’t hurt- I just missed hanging out with him. I wanted to try and reconcile but I knew better. As sweet and special as I know he is deep down, our pursuits and perceptions are just too different. I can’t single handedly try to make a friendship/ relationship/ camaraderie/ whatever; work. Especially with someone who has such different ideas of what those things entail. (That’s a sugar coated way of saying he mostly-likely doesn’t want one and if he did, I most- likely wouldn’t find it satisfactory) So what I did instead was realize that it could never-ever work and that it is more his loss than mine. Because the truth of the matter is that I may be a little crazier than most- but that part [thank G-d] is compensated by a relatively hot body and pretty keen insight. I’m a good person, for the most part, and I’m in pursuit of the whole glorious spectrum of life-fulfillment.  Someday someone with comparable desires will spare their precious time long enough to appreciate that.

     

    Until then, I am content to stand as “that crazy *** who was once my friend” in his mind. The reason being, for the most part, because I have no other choice. I walk away with only mild bruising to my ego; as I think it will always sting a little that he could turn his back on me so easily. I refuse to pretend that I don’t still care. I refuse to pretend that I’m not grateful for the unique perspective that he shared with me. He inspired me to reevaluate my own cosmic significance in his sacrificial commitment to higher purpose. He’s a good person too. We all are, in some ways. And we all fall victim to the defense mechanisms we fashion. But for me, I refuse to walk through life in ignorance of my inner child. After all it was her infantile perceptions that defined significance for the first time.

     

    So as I accept responsibility to my society and self and move toward unearthing my potential.  I will not forget the little girl who urges me to play, to pick flowers, to pet kitties, to smile, to laugh, and to grow. She can’t help but feel an abundance of compassion, as she used to kiss every single one of her teddies goodnight hoping to foster equality in her imaginary community. She can’t help but believe that there is a G-d as she was once sure her own personal thoughts were provoked by him. And ever since she could remember she believed that she was special- she believed that her little girly self was capable and worthy of greatness. I trust her instincts. And I know now that she is the origin for which too look in pursuit of self perpetuation. Her wants are my emotional needs and she had zero tolerance for meanies.

      

     

  • I like poems, they're pretty

    I like writing in verse. I like the challenge of trying to make the truth pretty sounding. I’ve been working on this poem for a little while and I’m rather pleased with the result. You should see how it started. Really, it was a messy rant made up of fragmented sentences and unanswered questions. But now it’s a rhythmic presentation of ideas. Crazy how that happens. Anyways, I’ve got lots more to say and lots of notes to work with so It’ll be a while before my adoring public (Translation: My laptop) looses me. I’ve just skipped the last couple of days because I’ve been focusing on other projects. I finished designing my roomJ I’m so thrilled, it looks pretty fly… And overall I’ve been pretty giddy keeping myself occupied, contributing to society, trying to feel relevant. Yeah… it’s been real.

     

    Fatalist-Fallacious

     

    Water sources dry

     

    An animal falls prey

     

    All that’s born must die

     

    As growth turns to decay

     

    Nature cycles without mercy; in perfunctory repose

     

    And the program in itself, does that also decompose?  

     

    That which self-sustains? Or that which self- destructs?

     

    The investigation each empirical scientist conducts.  

     

    Inadequate designs are purged without resolve  

     

    And cruel as it may sound, how else can we evolve? 

     

    Although evolution seems to be -

     

    A baseless strategy employed

     

    Why not leave matter unconstructed?

     

    As matter cannot be destroyed 

     

    I guess advancement is no option-

     

    Not even to existence

     

    Though Stillness may be safer

     

     Time does not regard resistance 

     

    And so it’s bound to happen

     

    Evolution in reverse

     

    Unless of course- we win this time

     

    Can humans break the curse?     

     

    And here the journey peaks, as we discover the solution

     

    That is- we must befriend the enemy, to adapt is evolution

     

    The circumstances are, in the model that’s presented

     

    Some details will ring true whereas others feel invented 

     

    While, in nature we are animals and there’s much to which we’re fated

     

    Upon earth’s crust lies majesty both learned and self-created 

     

    Worlds exist beyond the literal  

     

    Symbols in my mind and view

     

    So the meaning of existence

     

     Consists of what it means to you 

     

    As a beating heart is not an ocean

     

    A kiss is not a storm

     

    Poetry is not organic

     

    Love has no solid form

      

    Awe isn’t a reaction

     

    Life isn’t a result

     

    There’s mystery in being

     

    As well as meaning and occult

      

    And reason cannot satisfy

     

    Every yearning we contain

     

    When divinity lies secretly

     

    In our body and our brain

     

    We are special living animals

     

    Exactly why, I can’t explain

     

    But faith occurred to me when trying 

     And faith alleviates the pain
     
  • Poetic Justice: Part I

    Everyone’s a sinner and everyone’s a saint

     

    Every act is selfish

     

    Every verse is self-restraint  Behind flattery lies jealousy

     

    Beyond passion their lies pain

     

    Innocence is self- deception

     

    Every broken heart is vein  A yes is just a maybe

     

    A maybe’s just a no

     

    I’m in debt to a creator

     

    So what exactly do I owe?   

    The truth is just a portion, of a larger greater whole

     

    Morals are an option when salvation is the goal?           

     

    I know certainty’s a myth           

     

    But myths are based on truth

     

    If angst is just a fallacy

     

    So is patronizing youth   Reality is all we have

     

    But lies are all we’re fed           

     

    Oxygen alters everything            

     

    Blood isn’t even red  Ask and it is given

     

    Unless it’s really what you need

     

    Ask for a commodity

     

    And you’re asking out of greed  Be careful what you wish for

     

    As looks often deceive

     

    Fact reaches us through filters

     

    You decide what to believe

     

    Haha… new Poem. What do you think? I felt like rhyming this time- it’s been a while. I think I like writing in verse… Anyways, I was looking at some of my old writing and I found my old poems from when I just got sent away. Man, are they angry… I feel like posting some of my old stuff in a little Sam blog anthology called “Poetic Justice.”  I feel so darn clever. I titled this poem in particular “Poetic Justice” because it touches on that subject but getting sent away was also poetic justice in itself. I was all rebelling and running away from home and I ended up very, very far away from home. Get it?Anyway I had another thought I just wanted to write down. I was reminiscing about Israel and trying to describe exactly what it was about the people… And I decided. Israeli’s are known for being really forward. They don’t hold anything back. They don’t hide their prejudices, their intentions, their thoughts, their feelings… They don’t censor their jokes, their pick up lines, their anger… No subject is off limits. They skip the small talk and instead reflect on social standards, sex, politics, and religious beliefs… all upon introductions. It’s a very No- bullshit kind of atmosphere. And why?

    Because they are the grandchildren of Holocaust Survivors, the children of freedom fighters, friends to fallen soldiers and innocent bystanders, and today, still, they are each drafted to work very directly for their safety- right out of high school.

    It’s always there, that inner burden, they really know that life’s too short.