A major question I've been asking myself, as of late, is "where am I?"
It's not the most comfortable question to ask. Honestly, I don't like many of the answers...hardly any, in truth. But it is an important question--only by knowing where I stand can I hope to pick out my direction, my path. I could say that "here I sit, brokenhearted; tried to shit but only farted." It's somewhat true, right? Something's brewing in my guts...
I don't have the concentration, right now, to finish this post. I'll return to the ideas later.
Tuesday, September 07, 2010
Monday, September 06, 2010
a horoscope that reads like a long-winded fortune cookie written by my mom
"Take the direction you know is best for you, and leave all self-destructive paths behind. In fact, go ahead and erect barriers and 'No Trespassing' signs, if that helps remind you not to tread ways that ultimately proved to be unhealthy for you. Some might accuse you of being 'too good' for your old friends or old ways, and they're right--you're far too good to waste yourself on behaviors that wreck your potential. Your instincts are wiser than any outside influence."
Generally, I'm of Jim Morrison's opinion of horoscopes. I read them, they amuse me, especially reading multiples for the same day, from different sources--there's just one night sky, right? Overall, they're way off, or to quote, "bullshit;" the one (from the same source) for yesterday sure as fuck was. This was from my phone, my MEdia Net page, from astrology.com--funny enough, while trying to be lazy and copy and paste, I found that this wasn't the horoscope on the astrology.com web page; perhaps it's proof of quantum multiverses: check one reading and it's one universe, check another... I digress.
I've been very good at self-sabotage over the past decade, much to the chagrin of friends and family, and myself, when I step back and think about it. It is exhausting. I've long since been tired of it--eventually, running with both knees and both feet shot out by your own gun goes from "romantic" to "just plain fucking dumb." It's an easy pattern to fall into; perhaps, even so common as to be mundane. I'm not the first person to back down from pushing my potential as far as I can, for fear of failure, thus accepting safe and predictable self-prophesied and perpetuated failure. Admitting your problem is the "first step;" I'm really good at that one--think of me as a martyr for hire...
I don't seem to be much further along than I've been since somewhere around 2003. That's frustrating. I dig myself out of this hole just enough to have more dirt for burying; I get my head just enough out of the water to find some more weights to strap on. But, again, I'm good at admitting; and even better at the resulting self-flagellation (but how else does one get into heaven?).
So, where am I? What are the self-destructive behaviors I've come to think of as just facts of personality? What the fuck am I supposed to be doing with my life?
Those first two questions are pretty easy to answer, at least compared to the third. Given that it's now 7:30am, I'll give an answer to the second: staying up until 7:30am is a self-destructive behavior.
Well, here's some topics to return to; maybe I'll have some intelligent words to go with my ranting. Maybe, I'll write with some regularity.
For now, bed.
Generally, I'm of Jim Morrison's opinion of horoscopes. I read them, they amuse me, especially reading multiples for the same day, from different sources--there's just one night sky, right? Overall, they're way off, or to quote, "bullshit;" the one (from the same source) for yesterday sure as fuck was. This was from my phone, my MEdia Net page, from astrology.com--funny enough, while trying to be lazy and copy and paste, I found that this wasn't the horoscope on the astrology.com web page; perhaps it's proof of quantum multiverses: check one reading and it's one universe, check another... I digress.
I've been very good at self-sabotage over the past decade, much to the chagrin of friends and family, and myself, when I step back and think about it. It is exhausting. I've long since been tired of it--eventually, running with both knees and both feet shot out by your own gun goes from "romantic" to "just plain fucking dumb." It's an easy pattern to fall into; perhaps, even so common as to be mundane. I'm not the first person to back down from pushing my potential as far as I can, for fear of failure, thus accepting safe and predictable self-prophesied and perpetuated failure. Admitting your problem is the "first step;" I'm really good at that one--think of me as a martyr for hire...
I don't seem to be much further along than I've been since somewhere around 2003. That's frustrating. I dig myself out of this hole just enough to have more dirt for burying; I get my head just enough out of the water to find some more weights to strap on. But, again, I'm good at admitting; and even better at the resulting self-flagellation (but how else does one get into heaven?).
So, where am I? What are the self-destructive behaviors I've come to think of as just facts of personality? What the fuck am I supposed to be doing with my life?
Those first two questions are pretty easy to answer, at least compared to the third. Given that it's now 7:30am, I'll give an answer to the second: staying up until 7:30am is a self-destructive behavior.
Well, here's some topics to return to; maybe I'll have some intelligent words to go with my ranting. Maybe, I'll write with some regularity.
For now, bed.