Oh don't we just love our icons and leaders? Mitt Romney and Mel Gibson first. Isn't it just nice to understand how far we've come from the 1950's. So very nice. Racism AND ethnic slurs. Beautiful isn't it. Just makes me want to machine gun people. At least I was right in my pessimism all along, that our country consisted of a few enlightened souls and a whole shitload of idiotic, tactless propaganda inboxes.
And that brings me to Condy Rice. Isn't she just a spectacular diplomat? What ARE her qualifications? And she's going back and forth to the Middle East and around the world for us? Fuck, no wonder we're as screwed as we are.
With that said, let us all rejoice in the two term limit. I know they made it because of a liberal, but at least it'll go to good use.
Monday, July 31, 2006
Saturday, July 29, 2006
Lifting a Weight Off My Heart
Many months ago, around New Years, I announced my resolution for the year and that I wanted to begin with a clean slate for 2006 whereby I carpet-forgave everyone who had ever hurt me, ever did anything to me at all, bar only one person, who at the time I could see no feasible way to forgive.
But I've had a lot of time to sort through things over the past 101 days and I figured it was time to finish this little one off for good. For one, when they dwell on the past, does not live, does not evolve, is stuck in essence in a rut unwilling to let go on the has-beens and what-ifs of our life.
**I would also just like to say right here and now that I don't care who reads this. It is personal, yes, very much so, but it is to my benefit for those who know me to know this little bit of very personal information. So please read on. And by all means never think that I'm unwilling to talk to you about any of it.**
So here it goes in probably the most personal thing I've ever wrote:
To Dad, (I dare not say dear of course, because you were never really dear to me)
Since Day One you have made my life a living hell, one nightmare after another after another and I can't stand it anymore. I'm moving on. I no longer have the energy or desire to give a damn about our little fight. It just doesn't matter anymore. I've learned a few things in the past months, true happiness, compassion, love, fear, embarrassment, and more. The real emotions not the contorted ones you procure.
For my entire life you have impeded my wellbeing. Your verbal, emotional, and yes at times physical abuses took place for years, for years before I was able to defend myself. But I can defend myself now, as you no doubt have realized. And soon enough, I will do for myself exactly what I should've done years ago. Move on.
I understand that not all of it is your fault totally. You grew up I know, under much the same condition, an occurrence I personally could trace back four generations. Four generations of inexcusable, irresponsible, detrimental, horrendous behavior. I know that you were a victim of some of the same that you have now put me through. I know this, better than you realize.
You are stunted emotionally. But even after all you've done to me, I've not lost quite everything you have. And I'm fixing the damage feverishly that you did do to me I might add. You have a problem expressing love and a severe issue with anger management. You are not good with people of any age. I know this; I've lived it. For nineteen years I lived it. Did I ever live it! And miraculously I survived too.
Our fights were monumental. I don't think anyone reading this could ever truly understand how they really were. Not even close. I can't remember the number of times I lost my voice and beyond. I can't count the hours of wasted life. I can't even begin. I've left years of my life in wake of these fights. I know it and you know it. No one else could possibly know exactly what I mean, having not seen the end result of one of our bigger goes. But it happened, and I daresay it's left me more mentally scarred than you could ever understand.
But I'm not writing this to describe the activities of two people who's combined hardheadedness has dented walls, scared neighbors and children, and emotionally enclosed members of our own family. I know that you care but that you are unable to express it most of the time. I won't end up that way. I will never lay a hand on any of my progeny or mate(s). I will not. I can't, and ironically, you've in doing everything that you've done to me given me the only foolproof defense against it. The greatest fear I have is that one day for even one millionth of a second that I'll turn out just like you. But I won't let that happen. I will not continue this course; I will not force onto my progeny the error of your ways and your inability to control yourself.
I do fear one other thing though, I it's coming true before my eyes. And this scares me more than anything else. My brother is continuing it. He is and I can't stop it. He's turning into you. And now I've got one duty left to this line of emotional dysfunction, to be that much more immune, that much more diligent, that much more present, and to some how some way find a way to break down the walls he's erected as I once nearly did. I don't know yet what I'm going to do, but believe me I will find a way. I have to find a way before he does something to someone else again.
I know that if you ever see this letter that you will not understand what I mean. I don't think you ever could. Not really. But it's reason is not for your personal wellbeing, but for mine. I'm going to beat the damage you've inflicted. You better believe it. And then I'll stop it from being spread through my brother. And then, if I can, I will come help you if for the very least my mom can be happy again.
But for now I have to finish fixing the damage you inflicted on me, which I have suspicion was worse than to either my brother or sister, and to correct this dysfunction I have to say this:
I forgive you. I forgive your shortcomings and your inability to express emotion properly. I forgive you for the damage you've inflicted on me, the likes of which few will ever truly understand. I forgive you for ruining my childhood. I forgive you for introverting my personality against it's wishes. I forgive you for thinking that school grades are paramount to happiness and for convincing me the same for so many years. I forgive you for ever laying a hand on me in anger or under the guise of punishment. In short I forgive your for your parental and emotional inaptitude.
So now I've said what I wanted to for my benefit. But I also want to give you one warning. One very serious and dire warning. If you ever lay a hand on a member of my family EVER again, so help you because there is nineteen years of shit that a less civilized me would love to return in kind. And know that I am stronger than you. I am tougher than you now. And you cannot intimidate me. Just keep that in mind if ever you decide to strike out at my family again.
Sincerely, (as I do literally mean)
BRS
"FlyFreeForever"
But I've had a lot of time to sort through things over the past 101 days and I figured it was time to finish this little one off for good. For one, when they dwell on the past, does not live, does not evolve, is stuck in essence in a rut unwilling to let go on the has-beens and what-ifs of our life.
**I would also just like to say right here and now that I don't care who reads this. It is personal, yes, very much so, but it is to my benefit for those who know me to know this little bit of very personal information. So please read on. And by all means never think that I'm unwilling to talk to you about any of it.**
So here it goes in probably the most personal thing I've ever wrote:
To Dad, (I dare not say dear of course, because you were never really dear to me)
Since Day One you have made my life a living hell, one nightmare after another after another and I can't stand it anymore. I'm moving on. I no longer have the energy or desire to give a damn about our little fight. It just doesn't matter anymore. I've learned a few things in the past months, true happiness, compassion, love, fear, embarrassment, and more. The real emotions not the contorted ones you procure.
For my entire life you have impeded my wellbeing. Your verbal, emotional, and yes at times physical abuses took place for years, for years before I was able to defend myself. But I can defend myself now, as you no doubt have realized. And soon enough, I will do for myself exactly what I should've done years ago. Move on.
I understand that not all of it is your fault totally. You grew up I know, under much the same condition, an occurrence I personally could trace back four generations. Four generations of inexcusable, irresponsible, detrimental, horrendous behavior. I know that you were a victim of some of the same that you have now put me through. I know this, better than you realize.
You are stunted emotionally. But even after all you've done to me, I've not lost quite everything you have. And I'm fixing the damage feverishly that you did do to me I might add. You have a problem expressing love and a severe issue with anger management. You are not good with people of any age. I know this; I've lived it. For nineteen years I lived it. Did I ever live it! And miraculously I survived too.
Our fights were monumental. I don't think anyone reading this could ever truly understand how they really were. Not even close. I can't remember the number of times I lost my voice and beyond. I can't count the hours of wasted life. I can't even begin. I've left years of my life in wake of these fights. I know it and you know it. No one else could possibly know exactly what I mean, having not seen the end result of one of our bigger goes. But it happened, and I daresay it's left me more mentally scarred than you could ever understand.
But I'm not writing this to describe the activities of two people who's combined hardheadedness has dented walls, scared neighbors and children, and emotionally enclosed members of our own family. I know that you care but that you are unable to express it most of the time. I won't end up that way. I will never lay a hand on any of my progeny or mate(s). I will not. I can't, and ironically, you've in doing everything that you've done to me given me the only foolproof defense against it. The greatest fear I have is that one day for even one millionth of a second that I'll turn out just like you. But I won't let that happen. I will not continue this course; I will not force onto my progeny the error of your ways and your inability to control yourself.
I do fear one other thing though, I it's coming true before my eyes. And this scares me more than anything else. My brother is continuing it. He is and I can't stop it. He's turning into you. And now I've got one duty left to this line of emotional dysfunction, to be that much more immune, that much more diligent, that much more present, and to some how some way find a way to break down the walls he's erected as I once nearly did. I don't know yet what I'm going to do, but believe me I will find a way. I have to find a way before he does something to someone else again.
I know that if you ever see this letter that you will not understand what I mean. I don't think you ever could. Not really. But it's reason is not for your personal wellbeing, but for mine. I'm going to beat the damage you've inflicted. You better believe it. And then I'll stop it from being spread through my brother. And then, if I can, I will come help you if for the very least my mom can be happy again.
But for now I have to finish fixing the damage you inflicted on me, which I have suspicion was worse than to either my brother or sister, and to correct this dysfunction I have to say this:
I forgive you. I forgive your shortcomings and your inability to express emotion properly. I forgive you for the damage you've inflicted on me, the likes of which few will ever truly understand. I forgive you for ruining my childhood. I forgive you for introverting my personality against it's wishes. I forgive you for thinking that school grades are paramount to happiness and for convincing me the same for so many years. I forgive you for ever laying a hand on me in anger or under the guise of punishment. In short I forgive your for your parental and emotional inaptitude.
So now I've said what I wanted to for my benefit. But I also want to give you one warning. One very serious and dire warning. If you ever lay a hand on a member of my family EVER again, so help you because there is nineteen years of shit that a less civilized me would love to return in kind. And know that I am stronger than you. I am tougher than you now. And you cannot intimidate me. Just keep that in mind if ever you decide to strike out at my family again.
Sincerely, (as I do literally mean)
BRS
"FlyFreeForever"
That's Life, and an Excuse
We all go through periods where we hurt, where we suffer under the weight of our unapologetic minds. We see every worst case scenario play out in our mind's eye. Death, pain, loss... the whole shebang. ("She bangs! She bangs!" Damn that made me smile. Only on Fox.) We sit and dwell on every horrible thing, every painful word of rejection. Everything hurts. And nothing matters anymore. Nothing. How could life carry on? How could we carry on with so much pain building up inside? We just want to curl up and die.
Some have it worse than others. We just want it to end. Just end. It hurts. It really really hurts sometimes you know. It feels like the weight of the world is pressing down on your chest. You can't breath. You can't speak. You can't even think. You are drowning in a pool of pain and suffering. And there is no chance to surface again.
We hurt because we care. And, not being too boastful I hope, some of us care more than others. Care so much that it hurts. Yes it hurts too. Lots of things hurt. And then the whole day spirals out of control. Down and down. And down. Deep into depression. Into pain and suffering.
Lots of people have it, yeah they do, depression. But that doesn't make it any less painful to endure. No less long. Or acute. Or unexpected. It hurts. I know. Oh do I ever know. But, I also know that there is a lot of love in the world. Oh yes, a lot. And we've only got to get up and find it. Or hope that it finds us. Though that does take longer. Not everyone cares as much as we do. Not nearly everyone. Not with war. And genocide. And rape. And the lot. There are even those among us who are so full of themselves that they don't bother to care for others. I know. I've met my share of them. Oh hell I have. And I can't do a damned thing about it. Believe me, I've tried. Oh hell I have.
Depression is a personal thing and no one can truly understand it. Understand this and you will be well off. But that doesn't me that you can't give us all a little nudge every now and then. That always helps too. You know, we'll be okay soon. Just give us some time and it'll pass. It always does. Oh hell it does. Thankfully it does.
Just remember that you hurt for one reason and one reason alone: Because you care. If you didn't care, you would not hurt. And those that care the most, hurt the most. Isn't that a nice Catch 22. And you know who the best people to talk to if you're depressed are? Us you fool! Those of us who understand what it's like most. And we can help each other all over the world! And know that you are not alone and that there are people, many people, out there who care deeply for you regardless of what you ever say or do. That will NEVER change. NEVER! And we'll all be waiting for you on the other side.
Some have it worse than others. We just want it to end. Just end. It hurts. It really really hurts sometimes you know. It feels like the weight of the world is pressing down on your chest. You can't breath. You can't speak. You can't even think. You are drowning in a pool of pain and suffering. And there is no chance to surface again.
We hurt because we care. And, not being too boastful I hope, some of us care more than others. Care so much that it hurts. Yes it hurts too. Lots of things hurt. And then the whole day spirals out of control. Down and down. And down. Deep into depression. Into pain and suffering.
Lots of people have it, yeah they do, depression. But that doesn't make it any less painful to endure. No less long. Or acute. Or unexpected. It hurts. I know. Oh do I ever know. But, I also know that there is a lot of love in the world. Oh yes, a lot. And we've only got to get up and find it. Or hope that it finds us. Though that does take longer. Not everyone cares as much as we do. Not nearly everyone. Not with war. And genocide. And rape. And the lot. There are even those among us who are so full of themselves that they don't bother to care for others. I know. I've met my share of them. Oh hell I have. And I can't do a damned thing about it. Believe me, I've tried. Oh hell I have.
Depression is a personal thing and no one can truly understand it. Understand this and you will be well off. But that doesn't me that you can't give us all a little nudge every now and then. That always helps too. You know, we'll be okay soon. Just give us some time and it'll pass. It always does. Oh hell it does. Thankfully it does.
Just remember that you hurt for one reason and one reason alone: Because you care. If you didn't care, you would not hurt. And those that care the most, hurt the most. Isn't that a nice Catch 22. And you know who the best people to talk to if you're depressed are? Us you fool! Those of us who understand what it's like most. And we can help each other all over the world! And know that you are not alone and that there are people, many people, out there who care deeply for you regardless of what you ever say or do. That will NEVER change. NEVER! And we'll all be waiting for you on the other side.
Spare a Second?
Starting to write is the hardest part. After the first line sometimes you just sit there for a long while staring at the page. Staring. Staring. Staring. Get up get a drink. Watch some TV. Come back. Fuck it's still just a single line. But you want to do it, you REALLY do! But you can't. You can't think. ...Well actually you can think, just of everything other than what you want to talk about. Just like me right now. I wanted to talk about depression, but here we are another blog almost complete and I've yet to begin.
I don't have the answers. Really, if I did I wouldn't be writing this right now. I'd be writing what I meant to say. But I guess as the end comes into focus, I'll have to content myself with knowing that eventually I'll get around to it. Just not now. Now, even though I still want to, I'm going to stop. I REALLY don't want to, but I will. It's just the way it always is. I can't help it. Just thought you'd like to know that there was someone else out there that procrastinates as much as you undoubtedly are doing for you actually are reading this post and got to this point where even negating a strong case of bull shit, you are still reading. And that said, we come to the end. Procrastinators rejoice!
I don't have the answers. Really, if I did I wouldn't be writing this right now. I'd be writing what I meant to say. But I guess as the end comes into focus, I'll have to content myself with knowing that eventually I'll get around to it. Just not now. Now, even though I still want to, I'm going to stop. I REALLY don't want to, but I will. It's just the way it always is. I can't help it. Just thought you'd like to know that there was someone else out there that procrastinates as much as you undoubtedly are doing for you actually are reading this post and got to this point where even negating a strong case of bull shit, you are still reading. And that said, we come to the end. Procrastinators rejoice!
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