Wednesday, March 21, 2012

Dark Days

Some days are hard, and you think you might not make it through the day.  Stress and boredom mixed with anxiety and guilt.  Sprinkle that with annoyed and lonely and you have my day today.  I'm not sure exactly how to make it better, except by writing this.  And it helps.  It helps to talk to you, whoever you are.

I mean I'm 36 years old and I just moved back in with my parents a few months ago.  Is that pathetic?  I love the rents to death, but they might send me to an early death some days.  Today is one of them.

Then a good song that is so truly appropriate just came on the radio, "I guess that's why they call it the blues," by Elton John.  I know, I know, I'm not cool, I voluntarily listen to Elton John.

I kind of have the blues.  Didn't I just say I was happy the other day or something?  Fuck that.  I'm a moody little bitch.  Yeah, I'm generally content, I'm just irritated and don't know how to channel that irritation into something positive.  I just broke my diet with a big chocolate chip cookie at nine a.m.  Who eats cookies at nine a.m.?  Fat people, that's who.

Now I'm just being mean to myself.  The truth is I'm doing alright and things have been worse, much much worse.  But it's like I have three or four writing assignments due in the next couple days and I'm busy writing this.  I mean I needed a break, but, come on.  I should use my powers for good, not frivolity. Not that I consider this blog frivolous, sometimes I feel like it's one of the only things in this life that is truly mine, my baby.  I know I don't always contribute to it or take care of it, but it's all mine and no one else's.  I don't have a child or a husband.  I don't have anyone who is mine but I got you people.  So thank you, I can't say it enough times, I'm honored that you are here, taking this journey with me.

Let me tell you today we ain't goin' to a pretty place.  The dark side though, it's not so bad to visit it once in a while.  I mean I've been depressed before and entertained very vaguely the notion of suicide, but I never took ANY steps towards it.  I dabbled in self hate, but I never truly hated myself.

Life wouldn't be the same without death, right?  I mean it's like this big gaping question as to what happens and we have absolutely no idea what it even entails.  Some people think we go to sleep, others think we dance around the universe.  I am of the latter belief, but what do I know?

For all I know, there really is a hell that's actually worse than this earth.  Maybe there are things that exist in the universe that are worse than what we can imagine if there are things that are better than we can imagine.

Oh hell, this life is hellish enough.  You know, it's like I just want some peace, and I'm empty.  Just empty.  I feel blank today.

But it's O.K., 'cause I've been here before and it just gets better.  By the time I post this I'll laugh about it.  But for the time being I want to go in a cave and hide, and lay there like a baby, not telling anyone where I am.

I'm done with that hiding out in my bed shit though, so instead I'm sitting here in a cafe trying to make sense of some classic rock, "Don't it always seem to go, that you don't know what you got till it's gone..."

Maybe I'll miss this, the blues.  It's kind of poetic and gives you a reason to bitch.

Sympathy, people, I want sympathy.  I want you to let me cry on your shoulder.

"Lean on me, when your not strong, I'll be your friend, I'll help you carry on..."

I'm currently leaning on you, so you better be there.


Tuesday, March 20, 2012

Blogging 'cause I'm Bored

I was talking to some friends the other day about how it is that we are so lucky, lucky enough even to be bored.  Being bored is a luxury few in this world can afford.  A lot of people are wondering where their next meal will come from, or if they will have one at all.  My biggest stress right now is that one cable channel is not working and I'm pissed.  I'm actually angry about this.  I know, tragedy in suburbia.  This is what my life has come to.

I don't want to be like this, not that I'm petty but I don't want to sweat the small stuff as they say.  I'm not fucking Kim Kardashian, my biggest worry is not chipping a nail.  But I will say that I got my nails done and REALLY don't want them to chip.

Why am I like this?  Why am I not spending my time saving the world?  I don't know what way exactly I would like to save the world.  I mean I want to open up a school and stuff and I'm in school learning how to be a teacher, so I'm not a total waste.  But in my free time I'm not helping small children learn Braille.  I  mean I read and stuff, try to keep up with world events, but most of my time is for me.

But I'm so privileged. I want to worry about world hunger, or at least contribute to saving someone from it.  I figure if I teach I will inspire kids to be more than they can be, but is that enough?  Shouldn't I be contributing more to this world since I eat so much, literally and figuratively.

I mean I guess even writing this to my small audience is my contribution, telling you all to wake up as I continue to try to not sleep my life away.

So what are we to do?

I think the beginning of everything is to have a conversation about it.  But what is it?  Is it that we are so privileged and we need to give back because we actually spit on the very luxuries we have?  Is that it?  Is that all?

There are women and children who are worried about their next beating or rape, there are people who see violence in their backyards either in the inner city or in war zones.  What is little old me gonna do about all this shit?  I mean when I consider all of it, it overwhelms me.

For godsakes I still haven't gotten my myself to recycle.  I mean we are experiencing global warming as we speak and I can't separate the recyclables?  What's wrong with me?

What's wrong with you?

You are probably a better person than me.  Maybe you've got your shit together and every now and then you go to a soup kitchen at least.  I don't do jack for anyone.  I get pissed when it's my turn to do the dishes.

So what am I gonna do?  I'm gonna think about it, I'm gonna talk about where my talents would suit the world the best.  And I'm gonna do something.  It may take awhile, don't be surprised.  I'll have to socialize a little less and shop less and watch fewer movies, spend less time on the Internet.

But if I've helped one person do one little thing in this life, maybe I'll feel good.  Maybe I'll feel right.

'Cause this ain't right.


Monday, March 19, 2012

Happy Is as Happy Does

I can't decide if I'm happy or not.  So I thought I would blog the question out.  Are you happy?

I mean, what does it mean anyways?  Does it mean I'm laughing all the time?  No.  But when I laugh I really laugh.  Several people close to me have told me that they have never laughed as deeply as they have with me.  I'm honored to receive such a compliment.

But happiness is not about laughing only, is it?  It's about feeling fulfilled in so many different aspects of your being.  It's about getting enough sleep for godsakes.  Happiness includes having good people in your life, loving what you do, and feeling like you have a higher purpose. Oh and chocolate.  There ain't no happiness without chocolate.

But that's not the end of it.  Yet, it's funny how happiness doesn't really include owning that Porsche or that mansion, but those things add to it.  I mean sometimes having too much can make you unhappy, but that's another story.

But there are things you should not do that can make you happy.  Spending money you don't have can make you temporarily happy, but you shouldn't do it.  You should not do drugs even if they make you happy.  I for instance should not sing, as happy as it makes me.  (In fact I used to think that if I hear another  Adele song on the radio, I would projectile vomit.  But I don't think it's Adele, I think it's my rendition of her that's making me sick and I'm taking it out on her.  I sound like a traumatized elephant.  Adele is great, but if I hear another mimicker of Adele on some singing show, I will also crap my pants).

What does Adele have to do with happiness?  It's funny but when I first started listening to her I was happy even though her songs are horrifically sad.  Ironically sad songs make me happy.  Happiness is complicated.  Happiness includes tears and vomit.  You can be happy on the toilet for godsakes, come on.

I don't mean to be vile, but the happiest moments in my life were filled with uncertainty, confusion, laughter, love and even sadness.  The day I got accepted into Columbia University my grandfather passed away.  I experienced a roller coaster of emotions.  I got into the most expensive grad school in the country, how will I afford this? My grandfather lived to be 98, let's celebrate.  I got into an Ivy League school!  He is dead.

The beauty in it is that we get to experience it all and it all adds up to something.  Call it happy, call it sad, call it life.  Maybe there is another after life that doesn't resemble this life, where everything is good, but won't we be bored after awhile?  Just like we are bored with our possessions and privileges won't we be bored with our happiness?  And how would we know it's good if we knew no bad?  After a while would we start to think the good was bad?

Oh pitter patter, the questions can go on for days.  The point is, nothing is really right in my life right now except for the fact that I'm starting to get happy.  I don't know exactly why or how, I mean there are a few prominent factors, but overall I think it was a decision.

I have to live here.  I can live here happy or not.  No one else cares.

So I made a decision, I'm gonna take the good route.  I don't want to just live the dream, I want the dream to live through me.  I have to own the dream, give the dream directions.  Dreams are fucking retarded.  Without your determination, dreams are nightmares.  Try it sometime, if you are having a bad dream and you wake up, tell yourself that you will have good dreams from now on.  Command yourself.

Remember you are in charge here, not your dreams.  They are fickle and they will pass.  But reality is right here right now.  Not tomorrow, or if, are you happy right now?



Sunday, March 18, 2012

Minorities Hating Minorities

So you've heard about the case in the news where this Indian student filmed his roommate with another man and threatened to broadcast it live.  The roommate ended up jumping off a bridge.  The kid who filmed him ended up getting like ten years in jail for a hate crime and invasion of privacy.

The whole thing disgusts me on so many levels I can't begin to count.  I mean these aren't really kids, they are adults, and they are behaving like little children.  The guy who took a film of his roommate deserves some kind of punishment, but ten years?  The guy who jumped off the bridge obviously had some issues to begin with that brought him to that bridge long before this incident.  

I think the court was trying to send a message out there that hate crimes will not be tolerated.  I do think what that kid did was deplorable, but his life is sufficiently over at this point.  I just don't know if the punishment fits the crime.  However, the crime of bullying and hating someone because of their sexuality is disgusting.  

Now the fact that the kid who did the bullying was Indian bothers me.  In a world that has become so multi-cultural, I wonder why I still am of the notion that when an Indian gets attention for something, he is representing my people.  This Indian kid must have been teased at some point for being Indian, or maybe he was always the bully.  But a minority hating a minority just pisses me off.  

That Indian kid, deep down inside knows what it is like to be different.  He probably knows what it's like for people to judge you based on superficial qualities.  And I have to say that someone who would take the time to video tape two men being intimate, must have some latent homosexual feelings himself that he is in denial about.  I mean why was he so interested to begin with?

This Indian kid is probably some deluded boy who could never come to terms with his own sexual curiosity so he terrified others because he was so terrified of himself.  That's my pop psychology diagnosis of him.  The kid who jumped off the bridge was probably scared to death of himself and his homosexuality and to have it displayed in public was more humiliation than he could tolerate because he was so scorned by people in general.  

These aren't easy issues.  However the courts can't play with people's lives just to make a point.  They sufficiently made the point that you can't bully someone due to hate, but at what cost?  That Indian kid will never have a life and will probably experience more than his share of homosexual activity in jail.  I'm not saying we need to dismiss his behavior, but I don't know that ten years is a fitting punishment.  

I think the most alarming thing about this case is that there was an audience out there that was listening to this kid make threats and no one said anything or did anything about it.  The minute anyone heard of someone trying to make a mockery out of someone else's love life by invading their privacy, they should have reported it to someone or made some kind of attempt to stop it.  

The thing is we are interested too, aren't we?  That audience that was going to see the film of the homosexual act did not protest because their deep down curiosity and need to know the intimate details of people's lives took over.  

Ultimately, we are all responsible for this crime, because we have created a society that wants to put a videotape in every bedroom and make it a reality show.  

This is reality, and the show sucks.


Saturday, March 17, 2012

The Power of Procrastination

If I could have one superpower it would be the power to not procrastinate.  Although, this kid in my class wrote a paper on how procrastination can be a positive thing because it releases a certain adrenaline in your system that makes you work better.  If there is too little or too much of that adrenaline, it doesn't work.  But if you have just the right amount, you might work even better than you had under normal conditions.

I've always been a procrastinator.  I know that feeling of adrenaline and I've done miracles with it.  But I've also messed up some things because of this bad habit.  It can be a devastating thing.  I'm currently procrastinating starting a term paper that's due on Wednesday.  I mean it's just annoying that I did that to myself.  But I have procrastinated things that are much more vital in my life.  Like losing weight and writing that next book, etc. etc.  

I mean, am I procrastinating finding the right partner to marry?  Maybe I'm not putting enough effort into it, like going to bars with the specific purpose of meeting someone or scourging the dating sites for possible matches.  I mean I'm doing that kind of stuff, but am I wholeheartedly doing it, or am I putting it off?  Until when will I put it off, I'm 36? 

I'd like to have a child before I'm infertile, but maybe I'm putting off having children by not finding a spouse.  I would feel better about finding a spouse if I didn't keep putting off losing weight.  And the cycle goes on and on...

It's in my very blood to procrastinate, although my parents are not procrastinators, however it is like this innate personality trait I have.  I think it might even be my worst flaw.

So maybe it's time to do something about it.  Well, I woke up at seven on Saturday, that's a start.  I bought my inserts for my planner, so I can plan away procrastination.  

Somehow I have to turn the notion that doing something I don't like is better now then later when there are consequences to not doing it.  Like writing that research paper is going to be a complete bore, however it's better to be bored now than stressed and bored later when I don't have enough time to finish it.  

The only good thing about people who procrastinate is that we often live in the now, I think, or like to think.  We don't think about the future as much as we should, but sometimes that can be a good thing.  We want to enjoy the now and put off the pain.  

But the only problem is that there is no future and there is no past, there is only the now.  So it's vital that you just do it now.  I gotta go write my paper...later....


Friday, March 16, 2012

We don't learn to Love, We learn to Unlove.

I'm going to my cousin's wedding today, it's just a court marriage for now, but it's exciting none-the-less. When thinking about marriage, I was just wondering when and how we learn to love.  I remember learning my times tables and somewhere in the middle learning about the Civil War, but I don't remember specific lessons on love.  It's funny that there is no manual, because it's the only thing that we do that really matters.  

I was lying down on the floor staring up at the ceiling.  I was thinking about "How" as in "How To" can I love myself.  But the truth is they don't teach love in school but they teach you how not to love yourself, how to judge yourself, how to judge other people. 

The reason we don't need to learn how to love is because it is innate, in our very being, we are love.  I don't care if it sounds cheesy, I'll say it again, we are love.   

We don't learn to love, we learn to unlove.  We learn to unlove ourselves, our people, our very existence.  We have to unlearn how to unlove.  

So it's not a question of how do we love ourselves, it is a question of how we ever stopped. 

I don't remember when I decided that I wasn't good enough.  I mean I don't hate myself or anything, but when I was teased as a little girl in kindergarden, it must have clicked that there are people who will not love me and then maybe I started to question my lovablility in general.

I could go on and on with examples of how certain people in my life didn't love me enough.  But really, it comes down to me.  I don't love myself enough, whoever's or wherever the fault may lie, I don't know how to love without condition.  The word "IF" is conditional, "If I lose weight I will love my body, if I get that book published I'll love myself as a writer, etc. etc...."

How about, I am therefore I love.  I love me, even if I'm broken and sometimes stupid and weak at times.  Those things don't define me.  I mean does god make mistakes, because if he doesn't than I'm no mistake.  If he doesn't than those things I call "wrong" or "mistakes" I make are not written in stone.  Thankfully there are no stone structures of me, so I can change. 

But I gotta love me before the change, during the change, and after...I got love me even if I stay the same.  That's really hard.  Maybe we are here for that test, the ultimate test.  We are imperfect, but can we love that imperfection. 

I know there is no one more imperfect than me.  I also know there is no one I need to love more than myself.


Thursday, March 15, 2012

The Unbearable Insignificance of Being

You know that whole theory about how insignificant we are in the whole scheme of the universe etc. etc...

So this is the thing, I went to the book store Barnes and Noble, one of the only bookstores left and looked at how many books there really are.  And I ask you, what exactly does it take to be called a "National Bestseller."  Because it seems like it's written on every book.

See, the thing is, I have only written one book and from what I can tell NO ONE wants to publish it.  And not that I'm bitter, because I truly do believe it will happen to me, before I die, one day and all that...However it has occurred to me that if I write even one more book or like ten or twenty in a lifetime or say even one-hundred.  If I filled up an entire shelf at Barnes and Fucking Noble, whatever have I achieved?

I'm currently watching that movie, My Week with Marilyn Monroe, and what's so interesting is that she really wanted to be great.  Not a star, but great.  Real.  And she was anything but real.  After all of it she didn't really know how to be a human being.  Reality eluded her...

What does this have to do with the books?  Marilyn, the books.  I think she wanted to write her own book, but now you can go to the bookstore and there are a million books but none of them are written by Ms. Marilyn Monroe.

I don't know, do I want to be a star, like Marilyn or Whitney Houston, two women who the world will remember died tragically in the nude?  As I sometimes go over in my head the amount, the sheer amount of rejection letters I have gotten from literary agents, I remember one agent actually read my entire novel.  I was so grateful...he didn't want to publish it, but he actually read it.

I was in that man's head for like four hundred pages.  I made the commands, I made him think things and feel things and maybe even made him laugh once or twice.  It's like Marilyn, she wanted to be those people when she acted, she wanted to acquire their souls and touch the souls in her audience.

So basically what I'm saying is all I want is your soul.

I write this gibberish (did you know there is a proper spelling for that word?) I write it all down so that someone can know me.  Someone can know me and I can enter into their brain space and for a minute all there is going on in their head is my words.  My thoughts, my ideas.  In fact I was so excited yesterday when I realized more than 150 people had viewed my blog post.  I hope I mesmerized those people.

Wow, I really am an egotistical maniac.

It's true, I want to grip you.  And in all my insignificance, I want you to say, "I love this."

Or maybe, more importantly I want you, or your friend, or your neighbor, because you are anonymous, I write to the anonymous person, I want that person to love me, even for a fleeting second.  Because if we are insignificant, let's be insignificant together.  Let's do this thing right.


Wednesday, March 14, 2012

A Pill for Evil People

           Seriously though, a friend of mine, or should I say former friend, called me a drug addict because I take medication for Bipolar Disorder.  It was around the time Whitney Houston died.  And I thought to myself, wow, she thinks I'm like Whitney Houston?
             The ironic truth is, I could stop taking my pills, and collect them all, then end up in a bathtub dead one day from an overdose.  This could actually happen.  It won't.  But it could.
               The only thing stopping me from overdosing on my pills is my pills.  
            So what was I gonna do about this 'friend's' comment?  Cry about it? I can hardly cry anymore because of all the meds.  Sing about it Whitney style?  I definitely cannot do that, I'm not evil, I respect the sound of music.  Think, I had to think what would drive someone to be so ignorant.  No one would tell a heart patient to get off of their meds, have you seen how many meds heart patients take?  But with psychiatric drugs it's different.  Everyone has a theory.  It's easy for those that are uneducated in the matter to tout their notion that "it's all in your head."   
            Me and this friend were having an email war, we'll call her Judy, we were going back and forth about how our friendship had evaporated and then she said it, “In my eyes you are an addict.”  
            You know what, Judy, you are right, I am an addict.  I'm addicted to life, to sanity, to my very existence.  You see without medication, I'm an atom bomb with seven seconds on the clock.  With medication, I'm a dismantled bomb, one that can do no damage.
              Sure it sucks that some medications cause depression so bad you feel as though death might be better.  Or some cause euphoria so high that you think you really can survive that jump off a bridge.  They keep changing the medications on you, as if you are lab rat, waiting for your next cocktail.  
               So what?  So I have to take some pills everyday in order to be a sane human being.  There are other people who no pills can help.  My father for example is blind, and there is no pill for that.  
             They found a treatment, not a cure, for insanity.  I happen to have insanity.  I have to take pills in order to make sure it doesn't show.
           So am I crazy?  Sometimes I don't mind the term crazy.  Sometimes I hate it and want to hide from it.  But you see, I might be a tad bit crazy, but there are those who are crazier, the ones that are ACTUALLY crazy.  They are the ones starting the wars, or molesting small children, or trafficking young girls.  When they find a pill to end evil, then the human race will have really found it's true calling.  
            And let me tell you something, it is CRAZY to tell someone to stop taking medication that is saving their life.
             I know I was a mean little bitch when I wasn't on my meds, but I also know that there are those who are meaner.  There are those who will read this and judge me, and think that all I am is a disease.  That there is nothing at all much more to me than Manic Depression.
             Judy didn't know it, but she was playing with fire when she called me an addict.  She didn't know it, but she wanted me to question the very validity of my sanity.  What is sanity after all, you cannot experiment too much with it, or you might lose it.  
              I hear it's a bitch trying to get it back.