I've had an epiphany! Lighting has just struck my brain, let's hear it for the most fabulous thinking room in existence: the bathroom (come on cheer I know you want to) I somewhat get the tree. I don't really understand it's purpose or why I was there, but I do understand a little of what happened while I was there, and why I'm obsessed with it. I am now more than ever certain that the tree inside an eye is the tattoo I'm going to get, when and if I ever get up enough courage and stamina to do so. (which might not actually ever happen. . . I mean seriously I've been thinking about this tattoo thing for like 5 years or is it 6 now. Anyways since before I even had this whole tree experience and if I haven't done it yet, what makes you think I'm ever really going to) at any rate I was talking about the tree and the thought that occurred to me while I sat mostly idly with my pants around my ankles was along the lines of explaining a lot of other things that have happened to me, or rather inside of me since. And by golly I think I might have found some answers and in doing so I have found a story actually worthy of writing out, although I'm still way too skiddish to actually write it about myself. I still have to do it fantasy style, but now it's too close to the truth and I can't even bring myself to share it with the people who have pretty much read every other thought to cross my mind for. . . Oh how long has this site been running? Well about that long anyways. But this one is just a little too close to home. In fact if I do end up writing the story I may never be able to publish it. Or at least not till I'm old and grey and the people who know me now are all mostly dead. Pride is wired stuff isn't it? Ok well the best thinking room in existence is calling again (dang drug levels too high)
I'm swollen again. Bad trend. It could be that I've had too much salt lately or that I've been drinking so much tea I could be floating in it. I don't know what's with the tea. I'm not much of a tea drinker, but the warm drink seems to really hit the spot. In other bad trends I've been really moody lately. I don't know what the cause of that is either. I'm sullen and withdrawn and mostly I want to be left alone within my thoughts. Apparently there are a lot of them. . Only none of them conscious. I'm sure I'm avoiding something because I've been really productive which only happens when I need to actively avoid something, kinda like I do my best house cleaning when I'm mad as hell and it's either clean or yell at someone. My men have been particularity neglected in this moodiness, I can't even handle a hug it creeps out my skin. . . That probably has something to do with creatine. . . It makes physical contact putrid, although a great big hug would still feel emotionally great the whole physical aspect of it irritates me.
also at random points for no particular reason I almost break into to tears. This happens more frequently if I'm not concentrating very hard on accomplishing things. Which is probably part of the whole avoidance and being productive thing. It's probably hormonal. . . Which is my excuse for everything these days. . . Well that and drugs. Ok well enough sitting still. . . It's time to go do something I need to concentrate on. . . Maybe I'll repaint the bathroom or mop all the floors.
My father asked me what my social legacy is going to be. I guess for something I've spent my whole life pondering I've never really thought about it. Particularily these last few years the question has almost never left my mind. It's almost as prevalent as the one about my life soundtrack, only this question is more important because it's made up off all the deep questions that noone else can answer. The questions like; Why am I here, What do I want to do with my life, does that help people. What values do I want to incorperate into what I do and how do I do them. It's all nice and peachy keen to say things like I'd like to revolutionise the educational system or find a way to combine eastern and western medicine, but when I really think about what's important to me. . . do those things matter. yes they are cool, and they'd help society out in enormous ways, but deep down do they really matter?
I should sleep. Tomorrow is another day in which I have to deal with people who simply wouldn't understand, and don't want to hear about it. It's easier to keep my chin up when it's well rested.
I'm an emotional wreck. I was fine ten minutes ago, But I'm a steaming pile of train wrecked twisted metal now. I've never seen an IM begging me to be here because someone needs me before, and I've never felt so disturbed by the news that follows. It's really not something that close to me and yet it hit me as hard as if it were my own son who was living through the steps of my disease and not the father of a friend dieing the way she barely lived. Perhaps it's because I fear the genetic factor. I fear more greatly than I can comprehend that it is lurking in the shadows of my sons genes and that someday something will set off that ticking time bomb and there will be nothing I can do stop the course of his death, or worse that he will live, but only in the most tortured way. Or perhaps what I fear the most is reliving it, Watching each event unfurl and knowing exactly what is going on and knowing there is nothing I can do. Reliving each experience in a sequence I can't to this day bring myself to recall in the proper order. It's just too painful. There is a reason I don't remember. I can't.
why am I so terrified, almost hysterical at this? What the fuck happened to logic, when did it start having so little to do with my emotions?
where is the giant hug and the "there, there, everything will be all right"?
perspective
start with your shirts.
how many shirts are in your room?
how many rooms are in your house?
how many houses are on your street?
how many streets are in your town?
how many towns in your county?
how many counties in your state?
how many states in the country? 50 but you get the point
how many countries in this world?
thats a lot of fucking t shirts.
do you believe that life has brought you to this point in your life? are you in control of all of this? did the first conscious thought that you had shape your whole life? if you had only studied your spelling lists in 2nd grade would you be a different person? if i hadnt moved all those times would i have ended up here? would i have a blog? would i write? would i think?
telephones. you press buttons and are connected to any house that has one. and this blog. i can just type it and you can all read it thanks to wires and magic and stuff.
i had deja vu today. and someone told me its only a chemical misfire in the brain that makes us think we have seen something before. that it is really nothing but chemicals. but do you really believe that? because i knew that moment. i had seen it in a dream 4 weeks ago. and i already know the conversation before it happens. but what if i join in. or worse yet.
what if i did somethgn that i know i didnt do in the dream? does that change the future or just prove my dream wrong?
something tells me i will never solve this.
listen to deja entendu
do you believe in free will? as you are reading this you had the choice to choose if you read my blog or not. you could decided to see if this was a longer post and just say fuck it right? or were you eyes meant to read it? and you can dismiss this as nothing which im sure a lot of you will do. but that is supposing that a lot of people read this. but let me ask you this. would you have dismissed it no matter what? lets say you think you have free will? could your free will just be you making the descions you were always meant to make? And i could go outside right now and look at the moon but is that what im meant to do?
i dont have any answers to these questions.
and where does god fit in to all of this. im sure he has a part
wow, talk about a guilt trip. I think I need a shrink to help to get over how guilty I feel when someone is nice to me about having to cancel an appointment. . . I shouldn't be doing that work anyway. I know I can only make one out of 4 times I schedule, but it doesn't make canceling any easier, and it doesn't make the guilt any less when I cancel and then go out and do something that requires less concentration.
Anger. . . I know it's ok to feel it. I know it's a natual part of the healing/ grieving process, but I still have a hard time admitting to it. I have a hard time allowing the world to see me in the stage where I want to pitch my cell phone or my drugs across the floor, to see them skidding into bits across pavement as I run off to some private location and well up with tears at how unjust it all seems at certain moments. the moments when the "why me" sets in. When I just don't understand how I was chosen to endure things that just seem too much, that my life has to be rearranged and my ideals shifted because of things I claim no control over. Why can't things just work out the way I plan them. 1/4th of the time isn't often enough for me. I want to be reliable and have a work ethic that can show. The worst part is there is noone to blame, nothing I've done to say "you stupid fool, this is all your own doing"
remind me to write aboutlife lessons and what I may or may not have learned over this past week. . . as a remindert o myself: power, control, and desire. (ten bucks says I'm more confused than you are when I try to remember what I wanted to write about)
Wednesday, April 28, 2004