randomness
Why aren't we preoccupied with our joy?
Really. Why is it so easy to dwell on our sorrow and pain and lack of happy?
Tonight I have run out of CopShows so I am watching some ghost hunter show (and I have to say that these guys annoy the fuck outta me, they are antagonistic and confrontational and if I were a ghost I would totally drop a ladder on their heads) and the guy is all adamant about how these houses they are investigating are full of dark events and deaths. Well duh. It's always the sorrow and scary that imprints. You don't see Anne Boleyn traipsing around in her wedding dress, do you? No. You see her running for her life in the days before her execution.
Is the energy of happiness not as strong as the energy of sadness? Or does it just not imprint as permanently as anger or pain or fear?
The reason I am dwelling on this myself at the moment is that it has been a difficult few weeks here in the MagnoliaVerse. I had a big old panic attack on Wednesday, and it was really not like any I have had before. Usually my panic attacks are quiet little hyperventilation affairs and I can talk myself out of them. But man, Wednesday sucked. And for the first time in a lot of years I scared the hell out of myself. I don't like that. It needs to be Spring. Soon. Like Right Now. PlzKaiThnx.
Back to this ghost/sorrow/happy/whatever tangent. So obviously fear and sorrow and anger and like that imprint really well as residual effects, witness the stories of people hearing the sounds of cannons years after the war is over, seeing formations of marching soldiers on old battlefields long after the march is done. But nobody ever talks about seeing happy fucking ghosts sitting on porch swings with lemonade.
Why is it so damn easy to remember and feel the negative and the sad and the difficult. Why are those the emotions that get recorded for all time, not just in our heads, but in our world in hallways and attics and fields that once ran with the sweat and blood and tears of fallen warriors and the mothers and sweethearts who cried over them and pined for them waiting to see them again?
And why is it so difficult to overimprint something good and hopeful on top of that hurt in our heads?
I don't really want to be stuck in this destructive painful hopeless dark little box in my head. Hell would undoubtedly be being stuck in that negativity for all time. Stuck like a ghost in some damn attic with the dumb shits from this ghost hunter show yelling at them. Boy howdy those boys are annoying.
So every morning I wake up and think that today will be the day that goes well, that I will keep a positive thought for longer than three seconds at a time. I am generally disappointed. But I keep trying for the goal anyway. One of these days I will make it happen.
And then my friends won't call to ask me if I am ok because they haven't seen me post in days. Well, yeah. They know me pretty damn well, don't they.
I really am looking forward to my vacation, rather more than usual. A whole week of not having to make any decision more difficult than will I have coffee or tea and how soon in the day I can justify having chocolate, daiquiris and another smoke. Yeah. Sign me the hell up.
It's like 58 hours to go now.
YEAH! I think that will be a post of its own.
Really. Why is it so easy to dwell on our sorrow and pain and lack of happy?
Tonight I have run out of CopShows so I am watching some ghost hunter show (and I have to say that these guys annoy the fuck outta me, they are antagonistic and confrontational and if I were a ghost I would totally drop a ladder on their heads) and the guy is all adamant about how these houses they are investigating are full of dark events and deaths. Well duh. It's always the sorrow and scary that imprints. You don't see Anne Boleyn traipsing around in her wedding dress, do you? No. You see her running for her life in the days before her execution.
Is the energy of happiness not as strong as the energy of sadness? Or does it just not imprint as permanently as anger or pain or fear?
The reason I am dwelling on this myself at the moment is that it has been a difficult few weeks here in the MagnoliaVerse. I had a big old panic attack on Wednesday, and it was really not like any I have had before. Usually my panic attacks are quiet little hyperventilation affairs and I can talk myself out of them. But man, Wednesday sucked. And for the first time in a lot of years I scared the hell out of myself. I don't like that. It needs to be Spring. Soon. Like Right Now. PlzKaiThnx.
Back to this ghost/sorrow/happy/whatever tangent. So obviously fear and sorrow and anger and like that imprint really well as residual effects, witness the stories of people hearing the sounds of cannons years after the war is over, seeing formations of marching soldiers on old battlefields long after the march is done. But nobody ever talks about seeing happy fucking ghosts sitting on porch swings with lemonade.
Why is it so damn easy to remember and feel the negative and the sad and the difficult. Why are those the emotions that get recorded for all time, not just in our heads, but in our world in hallways and attics and fields that once ran with the sweat and blood and tears of fallen warriors and the mothers and sweethearts who cried over them and pined for them waiting to see them again?
And why is it so difficult to overimprint something good and hopeful on top of that hurt in our heads?
I don't really want to be stuck in this destructive painful hopeless dark little box in my head. Hell would undoubtedly be being stuck in that negativity for all time. Stuck like a ghost in some damn attic with the dumb shits from this ghost hunter show yelling at them. Boy howdy those boys are annoying.
So every morning I wake up and think that today will be the day that goes well, that I will keep a positive thought for longer than three seconds at a time. I am generally disappointed. But I keep trying for the goal anyway. One of these days I will make it happen.
And then my friends won't call to ask me if I am ok because they haven't seen me post in days. Well, yeah. They know me pretty damn well, don't they.
I really am looking forward to my vacation, rather more than usual. A whole week of not having to make any decision more difficult than will I have coffee or tea and how soon in the day I can justify having chocolate, daiquiris and another smoke. Yeah. Sign me the hell up.
It's like 58 hours to go now.
YEAH! I think that will be a post of its own.