Something long...
What is lonelieness but the awareness of being alone that we carry with us in a heavy burlap rucksack slung about the shoulder but never quite hanging comfortably.
This presence, this tension that seizes in my chest telling me to pull my shell down and hide until the thickness of the air fades.
Going with the motions...
They say that if you do the things you enjoy and go to places you enjoy, you will meet other people who enjoy the same. Logic would suggest going some place you don't like would bring you to people who probably won't like you.
It is interesting to think about. I go to gay bars and after a few drinks find myself wondering why I was there. I look around and see people enjoying themselves and wish I felt the same. I see it as yet another expectation of me.
I look back and realize my whole life is trying to live by expectation. Amber and her china doll. I remember the final words so well. "It is better to sit so pretty upon my shelf than to be alone all by myself."
I could stop going, but I have no idea where to go otherwise. So much the stubborn crab with pincers and a shell. I hate change. I hate having to find a new rut. I hate having to realign and deal with even more ambiguity. Change is constant or so 'they' say.
But it feels hard sometimes to open up. I'm a rather eccentric guy and usually the more I reveal, the more I tend to repulse. So I close and put my happy faced shell back on so others just see the norm. The expected.
So I finished reading The Velvet Rage and understand the psychology of growing up gay under straight upbringing. The shame and false validation. I opened my mind and realized where I had been coming from, but now I realize I'm still doing it. Only it's not in the straight household I came from.
My father might not be here telling me how I'm not good enough, but I've taken that roll anyway. Now I'm trying to seek validation in a gay mans world. A world where like a dog I tilt me hit and brighten my eyes and just look puzzled
It's 3:00 am and I'm here listening to Zero 7 and thinking about how little I know of myself. I'm still in development after years of stalled growth. Of trying to grow a red wood in a garage and just seizing up.
I really have no idea what I like to do, although skeeball comes to mind. I laughed with that. I really wasn't all that good at skeeball. But it was a pleasant diversion.
I love movies and going to the theater and just devouring terrible sugar and getting engrossed in someone else's life.
Who the hell am I??? In the most immediate sense I'm just a guy who not only pours coffee but leads others to pour it as well.
I remember way back when I used to balance my checkbook like a good like capitalist peon and embrace the money I had. Now I fear what could be in the mail tomorrow.
Sadly I can't remember the time when it didn't matter what you look like. Though I do remember being skinny as a rail and being teased for it. Then I ballooned when my car (fond memory 336) was my office and now I'm somewhere in between but still seemingly unappealing anyway.
So here I sit here thinking of the ways I'm not "good enough" and realize it's just the same old lie I tell myself everyday that adds to the burden of proof that giving up is the better choice.
But what really is the better choice? I pray for guidance on this one. Sometimes I just wish I had this one less decision to make. That some mystical force could come down and cough while discreetly pointing me in the right direction. But instead I have the freedom of choice and it seems all the options on the table that I see just go from "Sucks" to "Ho-Hum" and "Cool" is sold out.
So where do I go from here? How do I figure out just what it is I enjoy? And how do I find the people that enjoy those things? And how do I get them to like me? LOL
This presence, this tension that seizes in my chest telling me to pull my shell down and hide until the thickness of the air fades.
Going with the motions...
They say that if you do the things you enjoy and go to places you enjoy, you will meet other people who enjoy the same. Logic would suggest going some place you don't like would bring you to people who probably won't like you.
It is interesting to think about. I go to gay bars and after a few drinks find myself wondering why I was there. I look around and see people enjoying themselves and wish I felt the same. I see it as yet another expectation of me.
I look back and realize my whole life is trying to live by expectation. Amber and her china doll. I remember the final words so well. "It is better to sit so pretty upon my shelf than to be alone all by myself."
I could stop going, but I have no idea where to go otherwise. So much the stubborn crab with pincers and a shell. I hate change. I hate having to find a new rut. I hate having to realign and deal with even more ambiguity. Change is constant or so 'they' say.
But it feels hard sometimes to open up. I'm a rather eccentric guy and usually the more I reveal, the more I tend to repulse. So I close and put my happy faced shell back on so others just see the norm. The expected.
So I finished reading The Velvet Rage and understand the psychology of growing up gay under straight upbringing. The shame and false validation. I opened my mind and realized where I had been coming from, but now I realize I'm still doing it. Only it's not in the straight household I came from.
My father might not be here telling me how I'm not good enough, but I've taken that roll anyway. Now I'm trying to seek validation in a gay mans world. A world where like a dog I tilt me hit and brighten my eyes and just look puzzled
It's 3:00 am and I'm here listening to Zero 7 and thinking about how little I know of myself. I'm still in development after years of stalled growth. Of trying to grow a red wood in a garage and just seizing up.
I really have no idea what I like to do, although skeeball comes to mind. I laughed with that. I really wasn't all that good at skeeball. But it was a pleasant diversion.
I love movies and going to the theater and just devouring terrible sugar and getting engrossed in someone else's life.
Who the hell am I??? In the most immediate sense I'm just a guy who not only pours coffee but leads others to pour it as well.
I remember way back when I used to balance my checkbook like a good like capitalist peon and embrace the money I had. Now I fear what could be in the mail tomorrow.
Sadly I can't remember the time when it didn't matter what you look like. Though I do remember being skinny as a rail and being teased for it. Then I ballooned when my car (fond memory 336) was my office and now I'm somewhere in between but still seemingly unappealing anyway.
So here I sit here thinking of the ways I'm not "good enough" and realize it's just the same old lie I tell myself everyday that adds to the burden of proof that giving up is the better choice.
But what really is the better choice? I pray for guidance on this one. Sometimes I just wish I had this one less decision to make. That some mystical force could come down and cough while discreetly pointing me in the right direction. But instead I have the freedom of choice and it seems all the options on the table that I see just go from "Sucks" to "Ho-Hum" and "Cool" is sold out.
So where do I go from here? How do I figure out just what it is I enjoy? And how do I find the people that enjoy those things? And how do I get them to like me? LOL