Tag Archives: emotions

On what it all keeps coming down to

On what it all keeps coming down to

It isn’t what people say at the beginning of a conversation that is on their minds.  Wait for it.  The bread and butter will reveal itself.  I know this because I know my own mind.  It never stops living.  My life is a mere continuation of my dreams, but in my waking life I are often interrupted by simple things such as people talking to me, cars needing to be driven, work needing to be done, and bodies needing to be taken care of.  In my sleep there is no stopping the thoughts, they manifest to their fullest without remorse or guilt for any harm or discomfort they cause me.  But I don’t mind, I like to roam free.  In watching my thoughts, I am able to see through the layers by not getting stuck on one topic, so for a second, I get a glimpse of what is bothering me way underneath it all.  Under those layers are the things I wouldn’t say until I was deep into the conversation.  Under the layers are the situations that I wish never happened, the things I wish I could take back, and the things I wish would leave me alone.  I see those issues there, but seeing is all I can do.  If I pull out a topic from the roots and thus finally rid myself of its nagging existence, another topic will fill into that spot.  The process is endless because the spots are always there, grasping issues to apply its emotions to.  Seeing through the layers, clearing them off, and restructuring was just the beginning.  It is overwhelming to climb what you thought was the tallest peak only to finally see how many more mountains are ahead of you.  It is the space they layers fill that needs adjustment.  How to adjust them, I don’t yet know.  From here I cannot see how deep they go because the surface life covers them for most of my day.  When the surface life is very smooth and thick, it crates a nice trail to follow that makes me not think about the foundation built below.  Maybe this is because the deep layers really do not matter so long as life is in order.  So I guess this one comes down to this:  When life is good, don’t spoil the fun.

On learning, cross roads, and the need for something to look forward to

On learning, cross roads, and the need for something to look forward to

So I have learned… but in a different way.  It is no longer about the basics, it is about how all the layers and remembrances come together to make all the cogs and pulleys of my current situation roll together to keep the machine of life running smooth enough to enjoy every minute of it.  For a while there it was difficult to know what from the past I would need to utilize going forward, but once the pieces fell into place, suddenly it all seemed so clear.  Clear enough that I am confident that I can coast along in my boat knowing that I will reap rewards once I arrive at my next cross road.

I need cross roads, perhaps more often than other people do.  They make me feel alive because of all the different emotions and experiences that drive and challenge me towards completion of goals.  I am forced to create goals by my drive to constantly having something to look forward to.



I once had a close friend whose method of disconnecting from things, eras in life, and people was much different than my own.  He would put a lot of time and energy into building something awesome, then enjoy the fruits of his labor for years, only to one day kick it to the curb calling it a worthless piece of junk.

Nothing he called “junk” was junk at all.  He simply couldn’t see how to bring the object, habit, or person into his next phase of life with him.  Since he couldn’t form a plan to mix the old with the new, he automatically thought that the old must be gotten rid of.  Labeling it as worthless was the only way he knew how to depart from it.

The gap in his reasoning evolved from his belief that by that point in his life he should know how to handle life.  To save face from not knowing that more options for dealing with the situation existed, his ego assumed that his default method of departure was the only way to handle it.

Respectfully departing would involve feelings of loss, disappointment, evaluations of love, and many other emotions that, in order to save face, he had a strong urge to hide.  These, more positive, goodbye emotions were replaced with disrespect.  In justification for his actions, he pushed aside the good aspects to focus on the few things he felt resentful for.  Since objects and people are never perfect, flaws pointed out can hold a lot of weight, especially when other people feel as if the flaws are the result of some sort of personal failure.

If something is junk, well then obviously someone wouldn’t think twice about getting rid of it.  But a pattern of calling once-cherished things junk just to avoid facing the loss…is, well, sad.  But people do what they do and it picking up the pieces gives them more things to do.

How Talking is the Whole Point

How Talking is the Whole Point

“if you talk too much you might say something that upsets someone, so it is best to keep talking to a minimum.”

Isn’t the whole point to see how well you can handle someone when they are under stress?  To not want to upset someone is simply a cop-out, a brilliant dance around their emotions.  “Look! Look how well I can fool some one!  Look at how well I’ve got them figured out!”  That’s not love, that’s simply knowing that you’ve got someone at your disposal who you can take advantage of, someone who you can control to fulfill the empty pieces of yourself which you are incompetent of completing with your own mental capacities.

Someone might say you are lazy, but no, you don’t deserve that stipulation, you aren’t worthy of being called LAZY.  For lazy is a virtue due to it’s self perpetuating drive to preserve itself at the heavy cost of time and emotion.  You, you are only worthy of being called pitiful.  You waste your time seeking approval after underhanded deeds, after proving to have flirted with Satan, your self-created god still forgives you!  She is not your god.  She is your toy, a toy who at the same time does not want to admit that you are not her self-projected crush.  So fine, you be stuck in your instability.  You suffer the fate you’ve created for yourself by not just letting yourself be itself.  Go ahead, seek approval, get it, and suffer knowing how weak you are to give in to such futile existence at such an old age.  Know that no matter how far you go, your brain is still limited in it’s scope of what it can imagine.  THAT, my friend, is the metaphor we all know of as HELL.  I won’t be floating any further down the river styx on your behalf.

When Good Enough Isn’t Good Enough Anymore

When Good Enough Isn’t Good Enough Anymore

Often, when deep inside of life being a certain way, I, by habit, forget that it can operate in many other ways.   When running certain emotions I forget that the only thing that has changed is how I perceive situations, all else has kept running its course as if would if I weren’t present for it.  It is my presence that makes the difference when it burns the experience into my psyche.  It takes a long time to realize that what has been going on around me hasn’t been the only possible option, it has just been the option I was most willing to accept because, to get to this point, there was a certain level of accept and reject going on that lead me to where I am at the moment.

In review of my choice to accept an aspect of life that comes along to fill a need, want, or void, I find that I haven’t chosen the best.  I chose simply to the point that I wouldn’t have to be bothered by making more decisions on that matter.  This is simply a by product of having a lot to do.  I don’t have time to continue searching when I have good enough sitting on my doorstep.

This ‘good enough’ gets me by for a while but, after more of a while, it fulfills less and less of the intended void, leaving me to further fragment my existence by filling smaller voids which constantly open up because I can’t be bothered to part with the original ‘good enough’.

or maybe good enough was the best I could think of at the time and now, I can think of better….

On Guilt

On Guilt

When I partake in a guilty pleasure, for days afterward I am hyper vigilant that someone is going to call me out on it.  Typically though, I am only called out on those pleasures for which I feel no guilt.  So then, why am I expecting a negative reaction when I feel as though I have done something to feel guilty over?  It must just be the effects of guilt, an emotion for which there seems to be no antidote for.

I often don’t realize that I feel guilty until I start to wonder why certain memories keep flashing into my mind.  At that point I simply ask myself, “why are those few seconds of life so significant?”  From there I shift through all past memories which I find are associated with this reoccurring thought and deduce a common theme.  Guilt is tricky though because it is not an emotional which I like to admit I feel.  By having a habit of avoiding it, I find that there are many other memories that have been left untagged by the guilt category, making the mess a rather large, draining chore.

But still with guilt, is isn’t like other emotions in that acknowledging it neither fully takes away its uncomfortable residue nor does it give me new habit to practice so as to make future situations less stressful.  I’m am simply left feeling guilty and knowing it.

That makes me think that my propensity to feel guilty has less to do with the actual behaviors which excited the guilt in me and more to do with a need to feel far more guilty in life than is really necessary.  Therefore the guilt in me is hungry for reasons to get its fair share of my waking life and thus attaches itself to situations simply because it has greater power than a more desirable emotion like joy.  While this reasoning makes sense to me, it still doesn’t dissipate my discomfort.  There must be something else going on in addition to the guilt…. perhaps it will surface in another note…

On Despair

On Despair

I sat on the balcony of a cafe next to my work in Sydney gazing out at the puffy clouds in the sky to the west. It was lunch time, well, the end of lunchtime, I was in the habit of taking lunches later to make the rest of the work day go by quicker. I had tunnel vision, meaning I didn’t care to look around and see if anyone I knew was sitting nearby; all I could think of was how horrible it was to be in this situation.

I just wanted to cry but I was tired of crying, I cried for three days after every phone call because I couldn’t stop habitually ruminated over every detail of the call. He wanted to pretend like nothing was wrong; wanted to call me as if I was happy he dumped me and was now off doing what he thought was what I wanted to do all along. I couldn’t do it anymore. There was no reassurance, no mention that the problem existed other than a Freudian slip followed by a nervous laugh when he accidentally said April 4th (the day he dumped me in a smokey bar) instead of August 4th (the day he was planning some sort of backpacking trip). Regardless of him making such a big deal about leaving me behind for some life experience that he couldn’t do tied to some girl back home, he still insisted on calling me every few days to tell me of his adventures and listen to what I was doing.

It was that day, 4 months later that I realized he dumped me after 7 years to go on vacation.

So there I sat, plagued by cyclical emotions. The current emotion I was in was rather analytical and dry of energy. I realized that the only reason my mind was sick was because this voice kept creeping into my life from far away offering nothing more than a hint that it might come visit. The thought of which only filled me with dread.

Then the phone rang again, as if on cue. There it was again, apparently sitting in some cafe in Tibet or some country near there, expecting to get what it wanted out of me for the time being without leaving me with something of value in return. I was mad at it, but I didn’t know how to get rid of it. So I just started talking about all the boys that I’ve encountered to make him jealous (because I knew it would work regardless of how he denied ever being jealous). I went into detail about how the boys all loved me and complimented me on the strangest things and how they were all so different and all such good friends even though I had only known them for the few months I’d been in Sydney, and how I was really fascinated by one in particular.

Then I just came out with it and asked, “Why are you calling me?”

There wasn’t much of an answer, so I just kept talking, “I don’t understand why you are calling me, you were so mean to me, you said such horrible things, and now you want to call me like none of it ever happened, you just want to go on as if nothing happened.”

Somehow the subject of another girl came up, who I knew he had a crush on because he hadn’t stopped talking about her for an entire year. Then he said, “you always get in a such a rage when [girl] is mentioned, you know you’re just going to have to get used to her and I being friends.”

“No,” I said, “I don’t because I don’t want to talk to you anymore, this whole situation is driving me crazy and I don’t want to deal with it anymore.”

“Whoa…. What!?!” he responded almost with a slight laugh over me saying I was being driven crazy because he always called me crazy for having normal female emotions, “But [girl] and I were going to come visit you!”

“What the fuck do I care about seeing [girl], why the fuck does she have anything to do with this?” I said.

It was at that point someone (the fascinating one in particular, of all people) walked by and tapped me on the head with a rolled up newspaper, as if to say what specifically I am not sure, but I perceived as if, to say “hey I’m here and take it easy.”

“Great,” I thought, “I tried to keep all this away from new people, I tried as much as I could to not be broken, but I’ve failed by being stuck in this tunnel vision of a fog all because the phone happened to ring when someone I knew was nearby.” If I wasn’t pissed off at my situation before I definitely was now. And I wasn’t going to put up with this shit any longer.

“But I’ve been carrying gifts for you for three weeks until I could get to a post office, what am I supposed to do with them now?” the voice pleaded.

“Throw them away, I don’t care, I don’t want them anymore, give them to [girl] sounds like she’ll appreciate them,” I snapped back.

“Well okay,” he said, “If you’re going to be like that then I guess this is goodbye.”

“I guess so!” I retorted.

“Okay, then, bye.” were the last words from the voice I’ve ever heard.

“Bye,” click.

Then sometime later… the phone rang back in Huntington Beach, California.

It was the voice on a train to his next city, calling a friend back at home.

“Friend! It’s [the voice],” came a solemnly desperate voice

“Hey man, What’s up?” asked the friend.

“Stephanie,” sob, “said she doesn’t want to talk to me anymore,” he cried.

Just as the friend was about to respond the call was dropped and there was silence.

Day Dream Derivatives

Day Dream Derivatives

There is a certain pattern to daydreams that I’ve taken note of lately. As with anything that has been occurring for ages, but only recently has become worth noting, this pattern has become a problem (without the negative connotation). “Problem” meaning simply something to solve or get something extra out of because the pieces just don’t fully make sense with my current mode of thinking.

The pattern is as such: a outside occurrence (trigger) gets me thinking of some story to keep my mind occupied or distracted. The topic is of no consequence, the only criteria is that it fills me with some sort elation and intense need to play out the entire story over and over until all the loose ends are figured out and I have one linear daydream. The process is the best part, I get to feel all sorts of emotions which my everyday life doesn’t have (perhaps I don’t actually want in my everyday life) and I’m the one creating the story so I can imagine all sorts of possibilities that are off limits to the put-downs of outsiders. Of course when I encounter a situation in these daydreams that I dislike, I can still play out the drama, but then later decide that I wouldn’t want that to happen so I can go back to any part in the story and recreate the ending from there. I imagine I could write real stories this way… I would just have to record my voice because typing takes too long. Who knows, people may like it, the only problem being that I use real people as characters in these day dreams so I’d have to disguise them somehow. (I know, I’m not supposed to mediate on real people, I know I know, bad habit, because it distorts my perception of who they really are…but that is for another note)

Anyways, so that is the daydream pattern. Probably not too dissimilar to your own. But the “problem” comes along when I realize that my end product daydream is actually obtainable for me and I would really like it to happen. There is one piece that lets me know whether or not the idea is actually capable of happening: The beginning. Often these daydreams start as some sort of life altering event occurring that takes me into a whole new world or stage of life. Like, Prince Charming shows up and I suddenly don’t mind giving up my single freedoms… that sort of “outta the blue, completely change of behavior and outlook on things” type of cheesiness. (Day dreams are full of cheesy scenarios, don’t try to ly, I know yours are too, I blame Disney).

The thing with “the beginning” is that it cannot be planned as such. One cannot plan sending in a resume in response to a simple Craigslist job ad and suddenly having the job of your dreams, because things like that tend not to happen on cue. But once you do have the job of your dreams you can work with it, but there is no viable way of getting it suddenly or with luck.

What I am saying is that those sudden things you would need to happen in your life to get you to the next phase or step cannot be planned for because who knows if and how they could actually start to happen. But sometimes you do actually have a “beginning” that is reasonable and involves simple action on your part to get the ball rolling. Those are the viable daydreams to focus on, because you can actually make those happen, or at least take steps to see if you were right in believing that you would actually enjoy it if it did happen.

So “the beginning” is actually the last step in the dreaming process for me. I’ve got to play out the normal, nitty-gritty aspects of an idea to see if I like the idea before I can even think of where to begin, otherwise I would keep starting a whole bunch of things only to find out later that I don’t actually like doing it. And I’ve done a lot of pretty awesome things in life so far, so I don’t doubt that this method didn’t contribute to all that. There are probably other ways of getting me into action, but so far, my mental forecasts have done the job well enough.

Jealously Part III

Jealously Part III

There was a point, rather far in the past, where I was extremely jealous. This point in my life always comes back to plague me because nothing was actually solved at the time, I was simply “forgiven” for my horrifying emotion and all continued on with this situation pushed under the rug of our minds. My previous ponderings of jealously have lead me to believe that whenever I feel jealous, it is a signal that something in the relationship (whatever kind of relationship) isn’t actually working for me, and the emotions are just projected onto another party to formulate a cause for the emotion. The cyclical aspect of this is exactly what doesn’t make sense about it. But it was all I could come up with at the time.

Further pondering has lead me to a different approach, one that presupposes the jealousy. For this particular situation as well as an unfortunate second, I made one rather large error. That error being that I was under the impression that specific actions towards me were under the definition of the relationship I was in with said individual. In actuality, those actions were being given to me as if I was just an ordinary friend. Like, I thought something specific meant something special, when it really didn’t. Which explains why, when another person was treated in said manner, I was a little more than butt hurt about it. But then again, said individual was rather opportunistic… so I think this whole thing is an even bigger waste of my time. Yeah, I’m not even going to finish this thought for you.



Doubts.  I don’t know where they come from but I would love to be able to ignore them and continue on as if I didn’t have these lingering thoughts flashing through my mind at oh so specific times. The fact of the matter is that they are there and keep reoccurring.

So what am I going to do about it? I don’t really know. Doubt, to an extent, is inevitable because it serves to sober you from some sort of ecstasy by lifting you way up in the sky where you think can see clearly all the players in the game and pass judgment outside yourself. In this it is deceiving. Doubt is an emotion, so by using one emotion to view others, you’re essentially still acting emotionally. No one emotion has all the answers, yet in our craving of one, we must encounter the others. This check-and-balance system, which I am assuming I learned from somewhere, needs to be monitored even for the dry emotions because I need to figure out what blanks they are filling in.