The conciete falls like rain
So I got home from work early this evening. At about 630p or so. When I got home Sharrone and I decided that we wanted to go out and eat, so we went downtown and ate at this place called Red Robin's. Slightly reminicent of Steak N' Shake, only probably a grade higher. When we were done, we stopped by the smoke shop that was right next to The Plaza (bus depot), and picked us up a cigar each.
When we got home, we sat in the computer room, talking about the perception of society, hinderances they cause, stereotypes, etc. We then took our conversation upstairs, because according to Mom, the cigar smoke was disgusting. We continued our conversation, only on a different path of the texture and so forth of the cigars. It was very entertaining. We're hoping to become conasuers of sort.
When we finished our cigars, we went downstairs into our room, still extending apon the conversation in which we were having. Or topics range in many diverse directions. From parents to Leonardo DeVinci, to evolution, so forth and so on. But the main thing that we realized, is that in a way, we are more evolved then most of the people in which inhabit this world. I'm not going to go into great detail about it at this percise moment in time, but know that it was a very enlightening conversation.
I think the point that struck home most, with me, was how much I've changed. And most definately for the better. The main conflict that I had with myself was my inability to truely care. Now, I cared about people and their feelings. But when it came to the things in which I did, they were a little lackluster. Mainly because I didn't care. When I was young, I was often told that when I did something, it wasn't good enough. This only applied, though, to the things that I was supposed to be responsible for (i.e. cleaning my room, doing my homework, getting good grades, etc.). And I've always been taught, "If you going to do something, then you have to do it right." So I had in my head, "Why do anything, if I'm doing it all wrong, anyway?"
I had a breakthough on Saturday. Usually, when I don't feel like going to work, or I feel just slightly off, I'll call in. So on Saturday, my throat was killing me. Very excrutiating. I even went to my mom and asked her to look at it, and when she told me that it was really swollen, I asked her if it was okay if I stayed home from work that day. She, of course, said yes, and then went to back to bed. So I was up alone. I decided to take a shower, to see if I would feel better. I didn't. But I put myself through my own little test. If I could eat breakfast, then I could go to work. So I ate, and I did just fine, as painful as it was. But I still didn't want to go to work. So I told myself that if I could smoke a cigarette, then I would go to work. So I did. And even though I still didn't want to go to work, I put on my coat, walked down to the bus stop, and went. When I got home that night, I'd looked back apon what had happened that day. I don't think I've ever been as proud of myself as I was then. Because, whereas I have accomplished some rather notable things in the past, none of them was as satisfying as overcoming a self-inflicted hinderance such as not caring.
Now, when I think about it, I don't see how I could not have cared about anything. It took so much out of me. It is so much easier caring about what I do, and knowing that I do it well. And even if I don't do it well -now-, then I know that I can -make- myself better at it. And there is so much pride in acknowleging one's own accomplishments.
I don't know... there's more to write, but I don't really want to make this post any longer then it already is. So on that note, goodnight all, and fare thee well.
When we got home, we sat in the computer room, talking about the perception of society, hinderances they cause, stereotypes, etc. We then took our conversation upstairs, because according to Mom, the cigar smoke was disgusting. We continued our conversation, only on a different path of the texture and so forth of the cigars. It was very entertaining. We're hoping to become conasuers of sort.
When we finished our cigars, we went downstairs into our room, still extending apon the conversation in which we were having. Or topics range in many diverse directions. From parents to Leonardo DeVinci, to evolution, so forth and so on. But the main thing that we realized, is that in a way, we are more evolved then most of the people in which inhabit this world. I'm not going to go into great detail about it at this percise moment in time, but know that it was a very enlightening conversation.
I think the point that struck home most, with me, was how much I've changed. And most definately for the better. The main conflict that I had with myself was my inability to truely care. Now, I cared about people and their feelings. But when it came to the things in which I did, they were a little lackluster. Mainly because I didn't care. When I was young, I was often told that when I did something, it wasn't good enough. This only applied, though, to the things that I was supposed to be responsible for (i.e. cleaning my room, doing my homework, getting good grades, etc.). And I've always been taught, "If you going to do something, then you have to do it right." So I had in my head, "Why do anything, if I'm doing it all wrong, anyway?"
I had a breakthough on Saturday. Usually, when I don't feel like going to work, or I feel just slightly off, I'll call in. So on Saturday, my throat was killing me. Very excrutiating. I even went to my mom and asked her to look at it, and when she told me that it was really swollen, I asked her if it was okay if I stayed home from work that day. She, of course, said yes, and then went to back to bed. So I was up alone. I decided to take a shower, to see if I would feel better. I didn't. But I put myself through my own little test. If I could eat breakfast, then I could go to work. So I ate, and I did just fine, as painful as it was. But I still didn't want to go to work. So I told myself that if I could smoke a cigarette, then I would go to work. So I did. And even though I still didn't want to go to work, I put on my coat, walked down to the bus stop, and went. When I got home that night, I'd looked back apon what had happened that day. I don't think I've ever been as proud of myself as I was then. Because, whereas I have accomplished some rather notable things in the past, none of them was as satisfying as overcoming a self-inflicted hinderance such as not caring.
Now, when I think about it, I don't see how I could not have cared about anything. It took so much out of me. It is so much easier caring about what I do, and knowing that I do it well. And even if I don't do it well -now-, then I know that I can -make- myself better at it. And there is so much pride in acknowleging one's own accomplishments.
I don't know... there's more to write, but I don't really want to make this post any longer then it already is. So on that note, goodnight all, and fare thee well.