A word from be.
Since I haven't written here in a while, and I don't think I could explain my life (lately) as well as my friend could, I'll share with you excerpts of his entry....
On most days my voice goes unused and my face, unseen. I’m cooped up in a little, modest, one bedroom apartment, fighting with ideas, thoughts of suicide, bites of comedy, and creative plans that battle inside of my head like a brawl between every social group in a high school, scrapping in the front foyer over supremacy. I rarely need to get dressed for anything important, and rarely have anywhere to go but crazy. I’m just here. Collecting thoughts that collect their dust all in good pace. On the odd occasion, my phone will ring. I usually don’t answer it. I just let it ring out and continue with whatever organized chaotic task I have placed in front of me. Design this, write that, do the dishes, do them later. Etcetera.
Over these last few days, I’ve been overwhelmed with the perceptions that I must give others. I can say I’m doing pretty well. I am making my own money off my own product. But with the graduation of my life and the popularity of what I ‘provide’ in the category of “Soul Food”, comes the exposure of my many character traits, most of which aren’t the most desirable things for another person to experience.. especially someone who doesn’t really know me for me. Because the truth is, plenty of people who haven’t known me past my blog or my clothing line can get one-two things twisted quite easily.....
Seclusion:
I’m a loner at heart. I don’t need to be around people all the time for the sake of being seen or feeling important. And I don’t necessarily think this is a bad thing. Not all the time at least. Ignorance and stupidity are things that are raging with contamination and are feverishly contagious, and I am neither immune to them, nor the Swine Flu. But I’d gladly take a strand of the H1N1 over any of the rampant bullshit that people seem to be on these days. It’s just not me. So I sit with my thoughts and harmonize some rambling orchestra of semi-brilliant ideas I’d love to carry out. Then, in a swift move of excitement, I fail them all.. mostly. I become secluded, so much so that I begin to feel excluded, in mind, in morals, and in whole.
Trains of Thought:
Be patient with me while I (try to) explain how my mind works in conversation..
Consequence and response, for me, are immediately attached to action. So when I speak, I cycle almost obsessively over the listeners thought, reaction, emotion, and response while I try to say something.
It’s terribly frustrating. And it consumes half of the conversations that I have with people, leaving me with whole conversations in my mind that have never happened in person because this 3rd person, this thought in my head, this person I used to be, or would like to be, or have never been, or that I despise.. whomever they are.. keeps interrupting everything I would like to say. Until I just shut up. All the time. And say nothing that my heart wants to say.. in person, in play, and in whole.
Doubt:
I am a cynic. An unarmed worrier? Not quite. I know what my arsenal’s like. But I do worry about a lot. I think about interactive scenarios in the same manner as I do with conversation, conjuring up all possible outcomes until I have a collection of every possible negative thing that can happen before I do anything. And so I don’t do anything. I doubt the good, the motives, the love, the intentions, the honesty, the presence of humility, the safety, the security, the loyalty, and the possibility for change. You could see my distaste with people if you’ve read half of the things I’ve ever written.. but I doubt you have.
Well, there it goes again.
Being Bullied
My day-to-day life feels something like I imagine being bullied feels like. You never want to leave your house, or do anything. But you need to in order to maintain a level of normalcy. When you do decide to go against your bullies, you are always beat. Until one day you decide you are going to do something brash, and you kill them. But what if those bullies are lingering inside of you? What if those bullies are in your mind and patrolling your every thought. Then you become overwhelmed with the idea of shooting your brains onto your ceiling fan.
Or at least I do.
I don’t value myself quite so much. Or my own opinion. Not in this world, I don’t. Not in what we have become, or at least what these bullies have lead me to learn. We’re a world where the audience is allowed on stage. And most can’t tell the pro’s from the “Second Rows”. And so I seem to have lost my respect for my own growing talents and I spend much of my time battling with these 3 bastards who batter my battery to empty. Seclusion. Trains of Thought. Doubt. I can’t be strong in their presence when I have no support for when I am at my weakest. And I am tired.
When I was 12 I was told that I was “an Old Soul”.
At my age now, I must be a dead one.
I need some help. Before I go back to the pills and in-patients, the meds and beds. Or before I shoot these bullies in the head.
Ok, the suicide thoughts aren't quite 100% , but this is my response......
Be,
Again, these thoughts and feelings are all familiar to me as of late, in my past and tends to come back in the fall and winter months. I wake up for the sake of waking up and making my day somewhat productive. Walking around like a zombie and make sure I’m there mentally to take the dogs out in a timely matter and get a fresh breath of air. I keep my headphones on, with the hope that no one will talk to me, but they still want to make some smart comment or get asked the same questions (about my dogs) by the same people, or tourist stop me for directions. I just want to be left alone. I get my shit done, run errands, (if I need to) but most of the time I remain in my little box until someone decides to take me out of my normalcy. Soon, I hope to get out of this corner. Man, I need a vacation…..
J
On most days my voice goes unused and my face, unseen. I’m cooped up in a little, modest, one bedroom apartment, fighting with ideas, thoughts of suicide, bites of comedy, and creative plans that battle inside of my head like a brawl between every social group in a high school, scrapping in the front foyer over supremacy. I rarely need to get dressed for anything important, and rarely have anywhere to go but crazy. I’m just here. Collecting thoughts that collect their dust all in good pace. On the odd occasion, my phone will ring. I usually don’t answer it. I just let it ring out and continue with whatever organized chaotic task I have placed in front of me. Design this, write that, do the dishes, do them later. Etcetera.
Over these last few days, I’ve been overwhelmed with the perceptions that I must give others. I can say I’m doing pretty well. I am making my own money off my own product. But with the graduation of my life and the popularity of what I ‘provide’ in the category of “Soul Food”, comes the exposure of my many character traits, most of which aren’t the most desirable things for another person to experience.. especially someone who doesn’t really know me for me. Because the truth is, plenty of people who haven’t known me past my blog or my clothing line can get one-two things twisted quite easily.....
Seclusion:
I’m a loner at heart. I don’t need to be around people all the time for the sake of being seen or feeling important. And I don’t necessarily think this is a bad thing. Not all the time at least. Ignorance and stupidity are things that are raging with contamination and are feverishly contagious, and I am neither immune to them, nor the Swine Flu. But I’d gladly take a strand of the H1N1 over any of the rampant bullshit that people seem to be on these days. It’s just not me. So I sit with my thoughts and harmonize some rambling orchestra of semi-brilliant ideas I’d love to carry out. Then, in a swift move of excitement, I fail them all.. mostly. I become secluded, so much so that I begin to feel excluded, in mind, in morals, and in whole.
Trains of Thought:
Be patient with me while I (try to) explain how my mind works in conversation..
Consequence and response, for me, are immediately attached to action. So when I speak, I cycle almost obsessively over the listeners thought, reaction, emotion, and response while I try to say something.
It’s terribly frustrating. And it consumes half of the conversations that I have with people, leaving me with whole conversations in my mind that have never happened in person because this 3rd person, this thought in my head, this person I used to be, or would like to be, or have never been, or that I despise.. whomever they are.. keeps interrupting everything I would like to say. Until I just shut up. All the time. And say nothing that my heart wants to say.. in person, in play, and in whole.
Doubt:
I am a cynic. An unarmed worrier? Not quite. I know what my arsenal’s like. But I do worry about a lot. I think about interactive scenarios in the same manner as I do with conversation, conjuring up all possible outcomes until I have a collection of every possible negative thing that can happen before I do anything. And so I don’t do anything. I doubt the good, the motives, the love, the intentions, the honesty, the presence of humility, the safety, the security, the loyalty, and the possibility for change. You could see my distaste with people if you’ve read half of the things I’ve ever written.. but I doubt you have.
Well, there it goes again.
Being Bullied
My day-to-day life feels something like I imagine being bullied feels like. You never want to leave your house, or do anything. But you need to in order to maintain a level of normalcy. When you do decide to go against your bullies, you are always beat. Until one day you decide you are going to do something brash, and you kill them. But what if those bullies are lingering inside of you? What if those bullies are in your mind and patrolling your every thought. Then you become overwhelmed with the idea of shooting your brains onto your ceiling fan.
Or at least I do.
I don’t value myself quite so much. Or my own opinion. Not in this world, I don’t. Not in what we have become, or at least what these bullies have lead me to learn. We’re a world where the audience is allowed on stage. And most can’t tell the pro’s from the “Second Rows”. And so I seem to have lost my respect for my own growing talents and I spend much of my time battling with these 3 bastards who batter my battery to empty. Seclusion. Trains of Thought. Doubt. I can’t be strong in their presence when I have no support for when I am at my weakest. And I am tired.
When I was 12 I was told that I was “an Old Soul”.
At my age now, I must be a dead one.
I need some help. Before I go back to the pills and in-patients, the meds and beds. Or before I shoot these bullies in the head.
Ok, the suicide thoughts aren't quite 100% , but this is my response......
Be,
Again, these thoughts and feelings are all familiar to me as of late, in my past and tends to come back in the fall and winter months. I wake up for the sake of waking up and making my day somewhat productive. Walking around like a zombie and make sure I’m there mentally to take the dogs out in a timely matter and get a fresh breath of air. I keep my headphones on, with the hope that no one will talk to me, but they still want to make some smart comment or get asked the same questions (about my dogs) by the same people, or tourist stop me for directions. I just want to be left alone. I get my shit done, run errands, (if I need to) but most of the time I remain in my little box until someone decides to take me out of my normalcy. Soon, I hope to get out of this corner. Man, I need a vacation…..
J