The itch evolves into a scream.
The following silence strikes
to the rhythm of your fast beating heart.
The echoes reverberate through your dream,
hopes laying in neat little rows,
exhausted dreams dismembered.
I wake and choke on the residue
of the half emptied, half remembered
remains fading into the dawn.
I wish I didn’t have to write like I do. I wish I would just think in a narrative and the words would form on the paper. Or, at least I wish I could write as fast as I think. So many stories and ideas I think up are left unrecorded. My mind seems to be most active right before I go to sleep. It’s the only time where there’s nothing else I can or should be doing. It’s the only time I don’t have to think of anything, so I’m allowed to think at my own leisure. All of what goes on in my head while I sleep I’ll never be able to record. I seldom remember what I dream. All I can remember is how strange or extraordinary or amazing it was. Even if I do remember, I don’t remember it enough to write it all down. I don’t remember things as they initially were when I thought them up. I will think of something and it will be forgotten, maybe because I think too much. One thought comes after the next, piling up quickly and soon they replace the previous, lost forever.It will probably never be thought of again. There are too many things to think of. My thoughts are story ideas, sayings, analyzing, poems, songs, what I need to do, what I want to do. Thank god for paper or I would never remember anything. Events slip away. I would really have to think if you asked me what I did yesterday. I remember routine, but only because it is routine. The things I do remember, I can’t always remember the order when they happened.
Some people are very good at forgiveness and some people are very good at betrayal.
When two such people link together, arm in arm, it’s a terrible combination and very sad to watch.
Forgiveness, loyalty, love, and even hope can be a bad thing to have concerning the right people. It sets up a cycle of pain hard to break from.
The hindsight of escaping such an cycle can be just as worse. We figure we’re stronger and smarter now, but deep down we know we’d do it again. Really there are some things about us that don’t change so much. We all have an outer aura that is subject to change, but everyone also has a core of what makes them who they are.
I’m not sure what that core consists of is the same for people, but I do think that he bigger traits that I’m talking about usually reside in the core of a person. The further into the core the trait, the harder it is to change.
Words like ‘should’ don’t apply, only will. They shouldn’t lie, but they will. You should let them go, but you will hold on until they leave you defeated. You come back until loyalty has reached its limit, hope is hollow, and the entire experience leaves you empty.
Some people have a very strong will that accompanies things like loyalty and hope. Some people don’t ever know when to quit.
And when it’s all over, we ask why. The why of it doesn’t really matter, but still we ask it every time. You’re never going to be satisfied with the answer. With or without, these things are and continue to be this way.
The question isn’t why so much as it’s why not. Why not work out? Why not change for the better?
It’s so much easier as an outsider looking in. I say maybe you shouldn’t (again), watch with horrible fascination, and tell you to be careful even as the outcome is apparent.
Look out. It’s a tarp.
This post’s screen shot is from Lufia 2 (SNES). I’m sure there was an elegantly put metaphor in Japanese, but there is no such luck here.
Do you ever get a sense that nothing you ever do is the result of purely what you want to do for yourself? Even if you think you’re doing something for yourself, it is always weighed down by its relationship to other people. The things we do are controlled by a set of standards that are not exclusively our own. Ideas of ‘normalcy’ and ‘supposed to’ are so second nature, we don’t even consider them as we fall into line.
Part of the normalcy we need to feel is useful. The idea of being useful is pretty ambiguous, but it seems like most of our existence is based on it. It’s a constant pressure and motivator. I once wrote that I should ‘be content with being the being who strives’, but what about being content with just plain being oneself and nothing else?
I don’t think I’ll ever be content to be still. Stillness becomes guilt at not being busy, which is not stillness at all. Being busy doesn’t even mean actually doing anything truly important, it means being in a constant state of doing or even active procrastination. Relevance is secondary to making sure you’re active. Being in motion, even if you’re not getting any important done, becomes more important and valuable that being still. But, it isn’t.
For one’s own health and well being- and to have the ability to accomplish really important things- one must have periods of stillness, self, and relaxation. The mind needs a break to reflect and remember what is important and real in the largest scope possible. I’m not talking about some “in 5 years where do you see yourself’ question, but reflecting upon the question of why existing itself is important and necessary. I’ve never had a complete answer to that and probably never will, but each time I think I further understand a piece of that why, life becomes better, easier, and stronger in its vibrancy.
Being. Actually being, with a real identity and purpose, is far more important than being busy.
It can be very hard to force oneself to be still.
All of our actions go through a personal filter. Thinking and doing are separate things. When these things approach being the same, what happens to us?
Many of us just went through this New Years Eve. People traditionally gather on this evening for the sole intent of getting totally wasted in company just because ‘Why the heck not? I don’t have to work tomorrow, and neither do you!” Most of my peers are somewhat ‘used to’ getting drunk. The have a certain drunk identity that has been integrated into their view of themselves (or not if they like the ‘I was drunk’ excuse for every time they’re a bit tipsy). For someone like me that has lived most of their life without alcohol at all, and has a natural tolerance to not get drunk even when drinking, I wonder who the hell I was the night before. People are comfortable doing things they wouldn’t normally do and knowing they likely will do them. People are used to saying, “Oh, he’s normally a great guy. He’s just like that when he’s drunk.” I can’t pass the buck so easily.
I was so drunk that my vision was blurred, and I still spent most of the night with someone who is ‘my type’ while beating off a total asshole who happened to be married. So, my judgment wasn’t excessively off. How was I different?
I was even more bluntly crass- saying what I thought when I thought it. Little surprise there.
I did a few things that ‘seemed like a good idea’ and ‘made sense to me at the time’ that on further thought, may have only made sense to me. For example, if you want to counter someone’s statement that “rape is funny”, you disagree. If you then ironically grab his ass- you may think it makes a point and is great comedic timing. However, if the guy is someone to say “rape is funny” chances are, he’s not going to get it. It seemed like a good idea at the time.
I enjoyed dancing. The only dancing I normally enjoy is moshing or, when I used to act, musical numbers. That night, though, I danced more than I did in all of 2007. I struck an impressive figure, taring up the floor to bass beats. And if that’s not true, I’m sure people don’t remember clearly enough to contradict me.
I took chances. Saying whatever I want is a chance I’m used to taking. I’m not used to taking chances with trusting people I haven’t known for very long. I’ve never gone to a party at someone’s house I don’t know. I’ve never decided it was a good idea to stay there after all the people I knew well were gone. The list goes on into the night.
So I’m left to wonder, since these were things I never would have done without drinking, was that me?
The best answer I can come up with is: that is defiantly part of who I am. It was me minus certain inhibitions. It was not someone else minus those inhibitions. Underneath it all, I am the type of person to rip up the dance floor, I am the type of person to say no and slam a sliding door in an asshole’s face if they don’t seem to get it, and I am the type of person that will trust people when they’ve given me no reason not to trust them, even if they haven’t had long to give those reasons. Even if I don’t normally do these things, I at least want to on some level.
So what do I say to “Oh, normally he’s a great guy. He’s just like that when he’s drunk?”. I say, underneath it all, he’s really like that. The rest of the time, he’s probably just thinking or wishing those things. While they’re not the same thing, it shows you what they would do if they didn’t spend the additional moment to think. We all have that person underneath. That person for me is a good dancer, even if she’s more likely to get into sketchy situations. I’m okay hanging out that person every once in a great awhile.
So what about your lack of inhibition identity? Do you like hanging out with them? Do you make excuses for them? How do they measure up to your sober selves?
Happy New Year, everyone! I hope you’ve all recovered by now.