Being in Control
My dear sweet lord...I just came to an epiphone. Alright...here's what happened...
I was driving home from Matt's house, and I had the urge to grab a bite to eat. I hastily drove over to Taco Bell and ordered a soft taco and a Mexican pizza to sooth my hunger. I messily consumed the fast food delicacies as I drove home, glancing down every once in a while to see what I was eating. As I approached my house, I realized I hadn't had time to smoke a cigarette after I ate. I then decided to park the car in front of the garage and engage in blackening my lungs a bit more. That way, I could do so and could listen to the radio as well. As I smoked my cigarette, I looked up into the night sky, noticing the patterns and swirls the burning tobacco made as it rose up. Beyond that, I noticed the shimmering stars, easily revealed by the cloudless midnight sky. I began to think at that point, about the days when I was younger and would ride in the passenger or back seat of my parents’ cars, and how much I missed that. What struck me as odd is that while I was sitting there, I felt the happiness of that same nostalgia. I also began to think about how tedious driving was, and how dull and repetitive it had become over the years, yet whenever I had not been in control of the car, it hadn't seemed so bad. It then became clear to me that I did not enjoy being in control of anything; not my driving, not where I was going, not anything. Sparks began to shoot from neuron to neuron in my brain, and the picture quickly came together. The reason for all the failures in my relationships, the reason that I once engaged in intercourse, the reason for my lack of interest in things, all of them could be attributed to this one feeling.
In a great majority of my relationships, I lost interest in my partner shortly after the relationship had started. The common factor in all of these relationships that failed in such way is the fact that my partner had fallen head over heels for me, and showed it in her emotions. That meant I was in control of the relationship, I was the puppet master behind the strings. I can only assume that because of this, I became bored.
The first and only time I engaged in intercourse, I had no control over the situation, to an extent of course. When it happened, the two of us were lying down, and she suddenly became intimate with me. Before I realized it, we had already engaged in the act. I have never engaged in such an act with any other person in my life. I had little to no control over it, and I enjoyed it.
I assume that, given these other examples, the same is true for my lack of holding one job for an extended period of time, or even losing interest in my schooling years and no longer trying. With my jobs, after a certain period of time, I become, and pardon me if this at all comes across as egotistical, exceptional at completing the tasks I am provided with. In this, I become secure with my job, and I am put in control. This causes me to lose interest in my job and slack off half of the time I work.
As for school, whenever I took a certain class, and I excelled in it, I viewed the course as being tedious and boring. For example, when I received a D+ in Algebra II/Trigonometry in the tenth year of my educational curriculum (provided it starts in the first grade), it was due to me not completing all of my homework, because it bored me. The teacher then made me take Algebra III/Trigonometry the following year, instead of advancing me to the next level of math. The whole school year, I fell asleep in class, dreaming of what I would do after I escaped from the house of bricks that held me captive for six and a half hours of my life almost every day. If I managed to stay awake, I often found myself scribing tribal pseudo-tattoos on my forearms, or scrawling down poetry fervishly, as to prevent the thoughts from erasing themselves from my memory, lest I not write them down. The whole year continues in this fashion, until the point in which I had to take the final examination. The culmination of the knowledge I had gained in that class was next to nil, for it all seemed like regurgitated information from the previous year of math teachings, yet somehow, I achieved a 99 percentile A as my final grade on the test. I knew the information all along, and I had become bored with the class, explaining the lack of attention I paid in my class.
All of this is leading up to my final, and greatest conclusion. Upon noisily racing up the stairs of my house to jump onto my computer, I began to record my epiphany in my livejournal. As I snappily typed in what had just occurred, I saw myself using rather large words, describing certain events quite vividly, and almost uncontrollably jumping my cursor back in the paragraph to add more life to each and every sentence. What I had intended to be several lines of writing had transformed to what one would look at as professional writing, at least in my opinion. The one thing I had turned to my entire life for some escape, kept me out of the driver's seat. When I take a life to my thoughts by writing them down on a piece of paper or typing them on my computer, I am never in control. The one thing I have never seemed to be in control of is my imagination. Vast, endless, and extremely active, my imagination always takes control of me, leading me to new thoughts and revelations. Writing these thoughts down can be as ever changing as my imagination itself. In a writing, you can smell the scent of a dew covered lily, feel the bite of a cold arctic wind, see the endless beauty of a maiden of a distant and past kingdom, taste the bitter air in the confines of a mold-covered dungeon cell, or even hear the call of the vultures circling above you as you venture through the desert. My point is, not everyone smells, feels, sees, tastes, or hears these things in the same way; they are at the mercy of their imagination.
My imagination is the one thing that always controls me in my life, and has directed me to think that writing might very well be the pathway I should choose for my life. Though I am excellent at writing, I can always be thrown off track while writing by a random thought that my imagination stirs up. Maybe, just maybe, this lost boy will find his way yet...
I was driving home from Matt's house, and I had the urge to grab a bite to eat. I hastily drove over to Taco Bell and ordered a soft taco and a Mexican pizza to sooth my hunger. I messily consumed the fast food delicacies as I drove home, glancing down every once in a while to see what I was eating. As I approached my house, I realized I hadn't had time to smoke a cigarette after I ate. I then decided to park the car in front of the garage and engage in blackening my lungs a bit more. That way, I could do so and could listen to the radio as well. As I smoked my cigarette, I looked up into the night sky, noticing the patterns and swirls the burning tobacco made as it rose up. Beyond that, I noticed the shimmering stars, easily revealed by the cloudless midnight sky. I began to think at that point, about the days when I was younger and would ride in the passenger or back seat of my parents’ cars, and how much I missed that. What struck me as odd is that while I was sitting there, I felt the happiness of that same nostalgia. I also began to think about how tedious driving was, and how dull and repetitive it had become over the years, yet whenever I had not been in control of the car, it hadn't seemed so bad. It then became clear to me that I did not enjoy being in control of anything; not my driving, not where I was going, not anything. Sparks began to shoot from neuron to neuron in my brain, and the picture quickly came together. The reason for all the failures in my relationships, the reason that I once engaged in intercourse, the reason for my lack of interest in things, all of them could be attributed to this one feeling.
In a great majority of my relationships, I lost interest in my partner shortly after the relationship had started. The common factor in all of these relationships that failed in such way is the fact that my partner had fallen head over heels for me, and showed it in her emotions. That meant I was in control of the relationship, I was the puppet master behind the strings. I can only assume that because of this, I became bored.
The first and only time I engaged in intercourse, I had no control over the situation, to an extent of course. When it happened, the two of us were lying down, and she suddenly became intimate with me. Before I realized it, we had already engaged in the act. I have never engaged in such an act with any other person in my life. I had little to no control over it, and I enjoyed it.
I assume that, given these other examples, the same is true for my lack of holding one job for an extended period of time, or even losing interest in my schooling years and no longer trying. With my jobs, after a certain period of time, I become, and pardon me if this at all comes across as egotistical, exceptional at completing the tasks I am provided with. In this, I become secure with my job, and I am put in control. This causes me to lose interest in my job and slack off half of the time I work.
As for school, whenever I took a certain class, and I excelled in it, I viewed the course as being tedious and boring. For example, when I received a D+ in Algebra II/Trigonometry in the tenth year of my educational curriculum (provided it starts in the first grade), it was due to me not completing all of my homework, because it bored me. The teacher then made me take Algebra III/Trigonometry the following year, instead of advancing me to the next level of math. The whole school year, I fell asleep in class, dreaming of what I would do after I escaped from the house of bricks that held me captive for six and a half hours of my life almost every day. If I managed to stay awake, I often found myself scribing tribal pseudo-tattoos on my forearms, or scrawling down poetry fervishly, as to prevent the thoughts from erasing themselves from my memory, lest I not write them down. The whole year continues in this fashion, until the point in which I had to take the final examination. The culmination of the knowledge I had gained in that class was next to nil, for it all seemed like regurgitated information from the previous year of math teachings, yet somehow, I achieved a 99 percentile A as my final grade on the test. I knew the information all along, and I had become bored with the class, explaining the lack of attention I paid in my class.
All of this is leading up to my final, and greatest conclusion. Upon noisily racing up the stairs of my house to jump onto my computer, I began to record my epiphany in my livejournal. As I snappily typed in what had just occurred, I saw myself using rather large words, describing certain events quite vividly, and almost uncontrollably jumping my cursor back in the paragraph to add more life to each and every sentence. What I had intended to be several lines of writing had transformed to what one would look at as professional writing, at least in my opinion. The one thing I had turned to my entire life for some escape, kept me out of the driver's seat. When I take a life to my thoughts by writing them down on a piece of paper or typing them on my computer, I am never in control. The one thing I have never seemed to be in control of is my imagination. Vast, endless, and extremely active, my imagination always takes control of me, leading me to new thoughts and revelations. Writing these thoughts down can be as ever changing as my imagination itself. In a writing, you can smell the scent of a dew covered lily, feel the bite of a cold arctic wind, see the endless beauty of a maiden of a distant and past kingdom, taste the bitter air in the confines of a mold-covered dungeon cell, or even hear the call of the vultures circling above you as you venture through the desert. My point is, not everyone smells, feels, sees, tastes, or hears these things in the same way; they are at the mercy of their imagination.
My imagination is the one thing that always controls me in my life, and has directed me to think that writing might very well be the pathway I should choose for my life. Though I am excellent at writing, I can always be thrown off track while writing by a random thought that my imagination stirs up. Maybe, just maybe, this lost boy will find his way yet...