I like to think this is an anonymous blog.
One that no one really reads.
But for whatever reason, there are still views stacking up.
A handful of people, somewhere read this. And that frightens me. I share stupid things on here. The things I need to vent. And I'm scared. I'm scared of who might read it. What if I'm in danger by posting thoughts online? I am ashamed of my life. I am ashamed of existing. I am small and weak and pathetic, and I'd like to fall asleep and never wake up. But that's just dumb. I can't do that to people. I mean, I could, but I hate the idea.
So here I am. Floating like a fucking weight around everyone's neck. Making it difficult for everyone to get around and do anything without my fucking weight pulling them under.
I'm sorry. Sorry to be such a fucking burden.
I can't even type anymore. I'm too depressed. Good night or whatever.
Showing posts with label rant. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rant. Show all posts
Saturday, August 11
Sunday, August 2
Superhero
I lean back in my chair, head cocked to the side, confident and full of myself; pretending I am a superhero. I lift one eye brow with a slight grin. 'I can do anything' I whisper to myself. 'Because I'm a freekin' superhero! And superheros have super powers.' I grin widely.
But then I glance back at the computer area in front of me; papers scattered about, bits of old projects left unfinished on top of the printer and left on and around stacks of CDs. Around my feet lay wires tangled with themselves from old and broken parts of who-really-knows-whats. I'm not really smiling anymore.
Among the heaps of junk and potentially useful items is a College catalog with course listings. I let out a sigh and sit back in my chair normally, snatching the book out from under a pile of old art work. I flip it open to some papers stuffed into the pages. Enrollment papers for the coming semester. 'I want to go to school', I tell myself, in a less than convincing voice. Barely audible. I stare at the book for a bit but then I toss it back onto the pile, and set to work on getting rid of some of the mess.
I shuffle through some papers lying on the desk. I look back at the computer screen, and see a face smiling out at me. It's the face of a baby. Amy. She's only a month old. Her little face smiles out of the computer screen, the rest of her body wrapped up warmly in the embrace of her father. His face smiling along side hers. I put down the papers and look at the picture on the screen. 'Hi Amy.' I say. My heart begins to ache a bit. It must be so comfortable there, in her father's arms. He's got a hold of her snug and tight. You can tell he's not going to let go of his little girl any time soon. How peaceful it looks to be a part of that picture. 'I want to be a mother', I begin to say, less audible than before.
I bookmark the page, and close the window. Why was that painful to look at? I decide to change rooms and I go get the papers I left with my church books. I begin leafing through and find the notes from church I took earlier this morning. Notes about being kinder to people, and about what faith really is, and about what separates hope from belief. There on the corner of one piece of paper is the scribbled words 'Note to self: Go on a mission'. There's so much that intrigues me about the gospel. I believe it. I want to share it with people. 'I want to go on a mission', I say. But am I too scared, I wonder?
I continue working on recording the notes in other places so that I can throw out all the bits of paper that have been collecting over a period of much-too-long. But I don't know how to throw some of them out. Some of them are pieces of art work, swirls and lines, shaded pictures mixed in with my notes. How do I throw those out? They aren't exactly masterpieces, but they aren't exactly transferable to some other place, and I still want to keep them. After a while, I stop. I go back to the computer chair by the window. I'm not interested in sorting papers anymore. I'll leave that for some other time. When I care more. Maybe I'm bored. Maybe I'm ADD. Then again, maybe I don't care if I'm ADD.
But, what do I care about? I wonder to myself. What do I want to do? I've got a job. I work at a daycare. I could keep working there. But for what? But I don't really want to work there anymore. Working there isn't what I want to be doing in a few months. Maybe it's because I am not dedicated, and I just don't want to do something I'm not enjoying, or maybe it's because having worked there has made me dislike children, and I think that is wrong. So I ask myself again, 'what do I want to do?'
'I want to start a business', I say, half wishing someone was listening so they could give me some sort of motivation. It would be amazing to change the world in some way through a business I created. The truth is, I want to begin changing the world through my efforts to help people. I want to help people all over the world. 'And I want to travel too'. I hear the words come out, but by the time they are out, my mind has already moved on. I want to travel, but what about all the other stuff I want to do? Do I have the guts? Do I know what's coming? Can I do any one of these things and not miss out on the rest?
I sigh. I lean back in my chair, and cock my head, looking out the window. 'I want to be a superhero', I say. This time I can barely muster up the words. 'Maybe then I'd have the guts to try something. Anything. Even if it was just finishing clearing up this messy room. I'd do something exciting. After all, I'd have super powers.'
But nothing changes. The leaves aren't even rustling in the wind. It's all the same. Same as when I looked out the window the first time. And I'm not a superhero. I don't have super powers. And I can't bend the rules.
I sigh again. I wish someone would push me in some direction. Then I wouldn't have to choose and come up with my own motivation. I'd just have to keep the momentum.
I get out of the chair, and begin cleaning the papers off the desk. Frustrated, and weary I trudge on, hoping somewhere in the mix and confusion of it all, someone will save me from the fate of the unfortunate soul, born as a regular. Not a superhero... Not even a sidekick... Not super at all.
But then I glance back at the computer area in front of me; papers scattered about, bits of old projects left unfinished on top of the printer and left on and around stacks of CDs. Around my feet lay wires tangled with themselves from old and broken parts of who-really-knows-whats. I'm not really smiling anymore.
Among the heaps of junk and potentially useful items is a College catalog with course listings. I let out a sigh and sit back in my chair normally, snatching the book out from under a pile of old art work. I flip it open to some papers stuffed into the pages. Enrollment papers for the coming semester. 'I want to go to school', I tell myself, in a less than convincing voice. Barely audible. I stare at the book for a bit but then I toss it back onto the pile, and set to work on getting rid of some of the mess.
I shuffle through some papers lying on the desk. I look back at the computer screen, and see a face smiling out at me. It's the face of a baby. Amy. She's only a month old. Her little face smiles out of the computer screen, the rest of her body wrapped up warmly in the embrace of her father. His face smiling along side hers. I put down the papers and look at the picture on the screen. 'Hi Amy.' I say. My heart begins to ache a bit. It must be so comfortable there, in her father's arms. He's got a hold of her snug and tight. You can tell he's not going to let go of his little girl any time soon. How peaceful it looks to be a part of that picture. 'I want to be a mother', I begin to say, less audible than before.
I bookmark the page, and close the window. Why was that painful to look at? I decide to change rooms and I go get the papers I left with my church books. I begin leafing through and find the notes from church I took earlier this morning. Notes about being kinder to people, and about what faith really is, and about what separates hope from belief. There on the corner of one piece of paper is the scribbled words 'Note to self: Go on a mission'. There's so much that intrigues me about the gospel. I believe it. I want to share it with people. 'I want to go on a mission', I say. But am I too scared, I wonder?
I continue working on recording the notes in other places so that I can throw out all the bits of paper that have been collecting over a period of much-too-long. But I don't know how to throw some of them out. Some of them are pieces of art work, swirls and lines, shaded pictures mixed in with my notes. How do I throw those out? They aren't exactly masterpieces, but they aren't exactly transferable to some other place, and I still want to keep them. After a while, I stop. I go back to the computer chair by the window. I'm not interested in sorting papers anymore. I'll leave that for some other time. When I care more. Maybe I'm bored. Maybe I'm ADD. Then again, maybe I don't care if I'm ADD.
But, what do I care about? I wonder to myself. What do I want to do? I've got a job. I work at a daycare. I could keep working there. But for what? But I don't really want to work there anymore. Working there isn't what I want to be doing in a few months. Maybe it's because I am not dedicated, and I just don't want to do something I'm not enjoying, or maybe it's because having worked there has made me dislike children, and I think that is wrong. So I ask myself again, 'what do I want to do?'
'I want to start a business', I say, half wishing someone was listening so they could give me some sort of motivation. It would be amazing to change the world in some way through a business I created. The truth is, I want to begin changing the world through my efforts to help people. I want to help people all over the world. 'And I want to travel too'. I hear the words come out, but by the time they are out, my mind has already moved on. I want to travel, but what about all the other stuff I want to do? Do I have the guts? Do I know what's coming? Can I do any one of these things and not miss out on the rest?
I sigh. I lean back in my chair, and cock my head, looking out the window. 'I want to be a superhero', I say. This time I can barely muster up the words. 'Maybe then I'd have the guts to try something. Anything. Even if it was just finishing clearing up this messy room. I'd do something exciting. After all, I'd have super powers.'
But nothing changes. The leaves aren't even rustling in the wind. It's all the same. Same as when I looked out the window the first time. And I'm not a superhero. I don't have super powers. And I can't bend the rules.
I sigh again. I wish someone would push me in some direction. Then I wouldn't have to choose and come up with my own motivation. I'd just have to keep the momentum.
I get out of the chair, and begin cleaning the papers off the desk. Frustrated, and weary I trudge on, hoping somewhere in the mix and confusion of it all, someone will save me from the fate of the unfortunate soul, born as a regular. Not a superhero... Not even a sidekick... Not super at all.
Sunday, June 7
Womanhood Rant Continued...
Not too long ago I posted a blog entry entitled: "Womanhood Rant". After reading my post, my adopted uncle Mark sent me an article that I thought some people would find interesting (Hawley, you commented on my rant so I thought you might like this second opinion... It's been here for a while stagnating). You can read the document here if you want.
In response to the article he sent, I wrote him an email that I would like to share:
Firstly, I am at peace with the issue of womanhood and content to sort it out myself, by saying this: Both man and woman are equal. It is more complicated than that though, so I will explain.
Both man and woman are equals; individuals and partakers of this challenge that we call life. Both genders have roles and the individuals strive to grow, develop, learn and teach. Both are trying to be the best they can be. People will be much less likely to confuse their personal worth with their roles, after the individuals are considered and presented in nonjudgmental ways, free of biases and understanding that it is ok to have feelings, needs, desires, successes and failures. We will be ready to accept ourselves for who we are, no strings attached, nor having this need to feel jealous of the other gender or feeling a need to take on the other's role. We will be ready to take the next step, which is to accept the responsibilities such as priesthood and the correct and worthy, authoritative use of it; and womanhood and the gift of nurturing, creating and moving lives. But that's after we see ourselves for WHO we are instead of WHAT we are... We are first individuals, and secondly, we have roles.
These people, whom I have been among, have become confused about who we are, and how to accept ourselves, first as individuals, because we confuse our worth with our roles, instead of understanding that the divine God chose to love us as we are, no matter what, and that because he loves us, he gave us these gifts of gender and roles.
If that idea were explained, then a lot of this confusion would disappear, but I also think it would be nearly impossible to explain this to someone. I mean how can I explain to someone that they have worth? They have to feel it. They have to discover it themselves. I've tried to explain to people how they have worth in and of themselves but they can't grasp it unless they feel it themselves. So how could I expect anyone to satisfy my desire for this explanation, when the explanation is wanting? There is no way I am aware of to explain a feeling to someone unless they have previously experienced that feeling.
The main confusion between genders is based on the confusing belief that roles and responsibilities are of higher priority than individual needs and worth.
We all make mistakes and we all learn to try.
Both man and woman are equal because we are all human.
In response to the article he sent, I wrote him an email that I would like to share:
Firstly, I am at peace with the issue of womanhood and content to sort it out myself, by saying this: Both man and woman are equal. It is more complicated than that though, so I will explain.
Both man and woman are equals; individuals and partakers of this challenge that we call life. Both genders have roles and the individuals strive to grow, develop, learn and teach. Both are trying to be the best they can be. People will be much less likely to confuse their personal worth with their roles, after the individuals are considered and presented in nonjudgmental ways, free of biases and understanding that it is ok to have feelings, needs, desires, successes and failures. We will be ready to accept ourselves for who we are, no strings attached, nor having this need to feel jealous of the other gender or feeling a need to take on the other's role. We will be ready to take the next step, which is to accept the responsibilities such as priesthood and the correct and worthy, authoritative use of it; and womanhood and the gift of nurturing, creating and moving lives. But that's after we see ourselves for WHO we are instead of WHAT we are... We are first individuals, and secondly, we have roles.
These people, whom I have been among, have become confused about who we are, and how to accept ourselves, first as individuals, because we confuse our worth with our roles, instead of understanding that the divine God chose to love us as we are, no matter what, and that because he loves us, he gave us these gifts of gender and roles.
If that idea were explained, then a lot of this confusion would disappear, but I also think it would be nearly impossible to explain this to someone. I mean how can I explain to someone that they have worth? They have to feel it. They have to discover it themselves. I've tried to explain to people how they have worth in and of themselves but they can't grasp it unless they feel it themselves. So how could I expect anyone to satisfy my desire for this explanation, when the explanation is wanting? There is no way I am aware of to explain a feeling to someone unless they have previously experienced that feeling.
The main confusion between genders is based on the confusing belief that roles and responsibilities are of higher priority than individual needs and worth.
We all make mistakes and we all learn to try.
Both man and woman are equal because we are all human.
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