My motivation has eroded away,
Drained by lonely day after lonely day;
And this winter's horrible, intermittent pay.
Stuck in a virtual tunnel,
Staring down the fear train,
And I've already been spread a mile thin
Across the rusty, overgrown tracks.
I would love to be happy again.
I would be happy to love again.
...alas, I feel so invisible, most days;
written off as unimportant.. or negative.. or Eeyore..
Or just another hyper-critical Virgo?
'Tis hard to say, "What should I say?"
'Tis hard to believe
That entertainment reigns supreme,
And if my stories bore you or confuse you,
Then my fate will be to speak to empty rooms.
The lingering thought, the past remark
That I'm just another autism spectrum,
With some narrow intelligence...
The confusion and bewilderment
That I'm still single, after all these years,
Because I refuse to play
Into those dating modes
That "everyone" claims to hate...
And I wax on and on,
Building another text wall,
And I leave the phone off
Because who **really** wants a 2 a.m. call?
31 January 2019
26 January 2019
"My mind is a dangerous neighborhood" -
A saying that I've often heard,
Sitting in various AA settings...
True, my mind thinks that getting more
Will just increase my pleasures,
Without regard to the havoc
Set upon my poor over-loaded organs -
Or so much, much more time,
Chasing after that fleeting, ever-fleeting high,
Instead of gritting my teeth
And facing all the fears of mine...
Oh, but the danger is a bit more insidious,
Because...
My Brain..?
...it's not satisfied with same, old, same...
It wants continuous affection,
It wants an ego-stroking spotlight
Of epic proportions!
It scoffs and guffaws at the pale painting
Of an ordinary, sunny day
Working in an ordinary brick and mortar,
At an ordinary 9-5 grind of a job...
Remember - my mind wants to be entertained,
And it will go to insane lengths,
Just to lose touch with my reality.
An aside...
"i wonder if they knew,
Back in middle school G/T,
The chaos that would ensue
By having me brainstorm every little thing?"
...and that is how this beleagured brain
Tries to shake off responsibility
And cast far and wide,
All sorts of others to blame.
A saying that I've often heard,
Sitting in various AA settings...
True, my mind thinks that getting more
Will just increase my pleasures,
Without regard to the havoc
Set upon my poor over-loaded organs -
Or so much, much more time,
Chasing after that fleeting, ever-fleeting high,
Instead of gritting my teeth
And facing all the fears of mine...
Oh, but the danger is a bit more insidious,
Because...
My Brain..?
...it's not satisfied with same, old, same...
It wants continuous affection,
It wants an ego-stroking spotlight
Of epic proportions!
It scoffs and guffaws at the pale painting
Of an ordinary, sunny day
Working in an ordinary brick and mortar,
At an ordinary 9-5 grind of a job...
Remember - my mind wants to be entertained,
And it will go to insane lengths,
Just to lose touch with my reality.
An aside...
"i wonder if they knew,
Back in middle school G/T,
The chaos that would ensue
By having me brainstorm every little thing?"
...and that is how this beleagured brain
Tries to shake off responsibility
And cast far and wide,
All sorts of others to blame.
24 January 2019
Thoughts on income, careers, jobs, and gigs...
I recently heard that we are moving into a gig-based economy, in the sense that people are getting paid for completing a series of short projects.
In the tech industry, this would be akin to developing a computer program that fulfills one need, then moving on to complete a different computer program for a second set of possibly wildly different needs, and so on. You could also be a festival rat, volunteering at multiple festivals throughout the year, with each one only lasting up to a week. There's also the Favor/Uber model, where you are paid by delivering x, and only paid by the delivery, not by the time that you're on the clock.. or even commission sales..?
So, there's this sense that a job is not a continuous activity, but rather a series of short activities with various lengths of down time between them. The employer model then turns into "we will only pay you when your skills are needed", and you then become responsible for budgeting your money to last through the periods of down time.
Now, some jobs still require a more continuous type of activity. K-12 teachers are basically asked to watch over children while we work, emergency services are paid to protect life and property, people have to gather and prepare food, and some folks are asked to watch over the stores where stuff is sold. Yes, I know that this is a gross over-simplification. I also realize that even these jobs are not asked of individuals 24/7/365...
We could also look at how expertise influences income and careers. Basically, if you can find a niche in the economy that's not easily filled by anyone else - like being a brain surgeon, or being a computer programmer in the 80's and 90's, - then you hopefully have secured a demand for your skills, and will be paid well for it.
Usually, it is not the same person paying you for the rest of your life, but rather great multitudes that come to you for your great knowledge. Since there are so few brain surgeons, parents push their children to become brain surgeons so as to secure a non-competitive income. Except... it's really difficult to become a brain surgeon, and that's probably why there's so few of them to begin with. (Not so much, anymore, with computer programming - and, ironically, we are reaching the point where computers can be taught to be brain surgeons)
An often overlooked part of the ecological niche idea is that skilled trades are just as well paid, but usually not as difficult to acquire. They usually have less appeal, though, due to the physical demands of their work, or health risks? (Like carpenters and mechanics and policemen and garbagemen and...) It's possible they are paid slightly less, because there are more people working in that trade? Although I would think this would be like forgetting about the nurses when you're talking about the brain surgeons, while simultaneously forgetting about the master carpenters while talking about their apprentices.
So... recap. Most jobs are really paying by the gig, and careers with more specialized skill sets reduce their workforce and thereby increase the number of people each specialist needs to serve.
Now, there are other ways of making money that often are not talked about. One that immediately comes to mind is property - we can rent or sale the "things we own" like land or tools, and thereby earn money through those things instead of through our individual person's presence.
I'm thinking another income stream comes through insurance and interest ideas. We pay part of a cost of something that may or may not happen, over a length of time; to defray the cost should it actually happen (insurance) - so the insurance agent actually has use of a pool of money until said event happens. Or... we can not pay all of the costs up front, so we pay a little extra to a lending institution in order to better secure their trust that we will pay everything after an extended time (interest)
However, who is it that really determines the intrinsic value of a good or service? (Well, I guess that treads into economics) Why is it that Uber and Lyft can jack up prices during high traffic periods (fixed supply but increased demand, right?) ? Why is that a cashier with 10 years of experience could demand more wages than an entry-level one (supposedly, because they have less need for training)? Why is it that rent in a metropolitan area is higher than that in a rural one (less goods and services available in the latter?)?
I'm probably drifting, now...
The thought that got me wondering about all this;
"Is my skill set limited, and no longer in demand?"
I recently heard that we are moving into a gig-based economy, in the sense that people are getting paid for completing a series of short projects.
In the tech industry, this would be akin to developing a computer program that fulfills one need, then moving on to complete a different computer program for a second set of possibly wildly different needs, and so on. You could also be a festival rat, volunteering at multiple festivals throughout the year, with each one only lasting up to a week. There's also the Favor/Uber model, where you are paid by delivering x, and only paid by the delivery, not by the time that you're on the clock.. or even commission sales..?
So, there's this sense that a job is not a continuous activity, but rather a series of short activities with various lengths of down time between them. The employer model then turns into "we will only pay you when your skills are needed", and you then become responsible for budgeting your money to last through the periods of down time.
Now, some jobs still require a more continuous type of activity. K-12 teachers are basically asked to watch over children while we work, emergency services are paid to protect life and property, people have to gather and prepare food, and some folks are asked to watch over the stores where stuff is sold. Yes, I know that this is a gross over-simplification. I also realize that even these jobs are not asked of individuals 24/7/365...
We could also look at how expertise influences income and careers. Basically, if you can find a niche in the economy that's not easily filled by anyone else - like being a brain surgeon, or being a computer programmer in the 80's and 90's, - then you hopefully have secured a demand for your skills, and will be paid well for it.
Usually, it is not the same person paying you for the rest of your life, but rather great multitudes that come to you for your great knowledge. Since there are so few brain surgeons, parents push their children to become brain surgeons so as to secure a non-competitive income. Except... it's really difficult to become a brain surgeon, and that's probably why there's so few of them to begin with. (Not so much, anymore, with computer programming - and, ironically, we are reaching the point where computers can be taught to be brain surgeons)
An often overlooked part of the ecological niche idea is that skilled trades are just as well paid, but usually not as difficult to acquire. They usually have less appeal, though, due to the physical demands of their work, or health risks? (Like carpenters and mechanics and policemen and garbagemen and...) It's possible they are paid slightly less, because there are more people working in that trade? Although I would think this would be like forgetting about the nurses when you're talking about the brain surgeons, while simultaneously forgetting about the master carpenters while talking about their apprentices.
So... recap. Most jobs are really paying by the gig, and careers with more specialized skill sets reduce their workforce and thereby increase the number of people each specialist needs to serve.
Now, there are other ways of making money that often are not talked about. One that immediately comes to mind is property - we can rent or sale the "things we own" like land or tools, and thereby earn money through those things instead of through our individual person's presence.
I'm thinking another income stream comes through insurance and interest ideas. We pay part of a cost of something that may or may not happen, over a length of time; to defray the cost should it actually happen (insurance) - so the insurance agent actually has use of a pool of money until said event happens. Or... we can not pay all of the costs up front, so we pay a little extra to a lending institution in order to better secure their trust that we will pay everything after an extended time (interest)
However, who is it that really determines the intrinsic value of a good or service? (Well, I guess that treads into economics) Why is it that Uber and Lyft can jack up prices during high traffic periods (fixed supply but increased demand, right?) ? Why is that a cashier with 10 years of experience could demand more wages than an entry-level one (supposedly, because they have less need for training)? Why is it that rent in a metropolitan area is higher than that in a rural one (less goods and services available in the latter?)?
I'm probably drifting, now...
The thought that got me wondering about all this;
"Is my skill set limited, and no longer in demand?"
A good friend complained that I did not believe she was “being there for me”:
Note that there are various degrees of acquaintance, like:
- family of origin
- Family by marriage
- Significant other
- Best friends
- Work buddies
- Activity buddies
- Co-habitants
- Like-minded individuals
- Trustworthy individuals
- People with wealth and property
- Celebrities
- Disreputable folks
- Emotional vampires
So, i have different ideas about how to interact with people from different circles. Or, even, i May interact with a person differently when I’m working with them then when I’m at an activity with them. Now, Since some people can fall into multiple categories, friendship is not a linear scale, ranging from loved one to enemy.
I note that we have some ideas being sold to us by societal norms and media, saying that “true friends should act like _____” or “everyone should get married and have kids”. My complaint is that very few people live up to the cookie cutter molds that are trying to be sold, especially if you consider how they interact with **everyone** they encounter (and not just the people they favor). A common example is in families, where we have favorite childs, but also disowned relatives... Even though the media image wants a family to be fully functional, most families are a bit dysfunctional.
So, when I complain that I do not think people are being friendly enough with me, what I’m really complaining about is that people are pushing a media image of friendship, while not actually living it in our interactions. Yes, this is a broad generalization and I have seen various exceptions. And yes, I am quite guilty of not being the type of friend(s) that I want in my life.
At another level, for which I am partly responsible, when I consider all the types of acquaintances that I could maintain; I bemoan the fact that I am lacking some, like the family by marriage (or just the significant other)... I also try not to distrust anyone or shun anyone, yet there have been a handful of individuals who have done actions that justify that level of avoidance.
So, I am not saying that everyone has to be my significant other, behaving like the image of that, which we’re fed by various media. What I am saying is that I don’t have a significant other in my life - i don’t even feel like I have the Circle of Five for some circumstances. Like, I do not know who I could feel safe about asking for financial assistance, I do not have a good idea of who would be willing to help me move, I do not know who might be sexually attracted to me (or if it’s mutual), I do not know if anyone would serve as a caregiver... I can almost imagine one of those 20-question surveys that tries to scale a friendship or a Cosmo survey...
Although it’s distressing that I do not feel integrated into a strong community (and how much of that is based in my own fears, instead of reality?), “it’s not your job to take care of me”... (at least, that’s a takeaway from the “every man for himself” idea that we learn in capitalism, right?)
What concerns me, though, is that I’m probably not the only person who’s felt more and more isolated, as he’s aged through the stages of life. Also, without any community, how are people going to start treating each other? Without the love and respect built through community building, what are the chances that people will turn to crime, abuse, and violence? Or... scaling down... to dismissing each other, or cultivating stranger danger?
Yet, many would rather live in the fantastical stories touted by the media, instead of taking the time to honestly try to connect with their neighbors. When we make our neighbors invisible, then it’s easier for those neighbors to live counter to our ideals... or for us to paint them as doing so...
Another long text wall. Yay.
(There’s probably a whole other spinoff about taking care with the words I use, especially being much more specific instead of broad generalizations... but, these are not hard facts, just starting hypotheses)
Note that there are various degrees of acquaintance, like:
- family of origin
- Family by marriage
- Significant other
- Best friends
- Work buddies
- Activity buddies
- Co-habitants
- Like-minded individuals
- Trustworthy individuals
- People with wealth and property
- Celebrities
- Disreputable folks
- Emotional vampires
So, i have different ideas about how to interact with people from different circles. Or, even, i May interact with a person differently when I’m working with them then when I’m at an activity with them. Now, Since some people can fall into multiple categories, friendship is not a linear scale, ranging from loved one to enemy.
I note that we have some ideas being sold to us by societal norms and media, saying that “true friends should act like _____” or “everyone should get married and have kids”. My complaint is that very few people live up to the cookie cutter molds that are trying to be sold, especially if you consider how they interact with **everyone** they encounter (and not just the people they favor). A common example is in families, where we have favorite childs, but also disowned relatives... Even though the media image wants a family to be fully functional, most families are a bit dysfunctional.
So, when I complain that I do not think people are being friendly enough with me, what I’m really complaining about is that people are pushing a media image of friendship, while not actually living it in our interactions. Yes, this is a broad generalization and I have seen various exceptions. And yes, I am quite guilty of not being the type of friend(s) that I want in my life.
At another level, for which I am partly responsible, when I consider all the types of acquaintances that I could maintain; I bemoan the fact that I am lacking some, like the family by marriage (or just the significant other)... I also try not to distrust anyone or shun anyone, yet there have been a handful of individuals who have done actions that justify that level of avoidance.
So, I am not saying that everyone has to be my significant other, behaving like the image of that, which we’re fed by various media. What I am saying is that I don’t have a significant other in my life - i don’t even feel like I have the Circle of Five for some circumstances. Like, I do not know who I could feel safe about asking for financial assistance, I do not have a good idea of who would be willing to help me move, I do not know who might be sexually attracted to me (or if it’s mutual), I do not know if anyone would serve as a caregiver... I can almost imagine one of those 20-question surveys that tries to scale a friendship or a Cosmo survey...
Although it’s distressing that I do not feel integrated into a strong community (and how much of that is based in my own fears, instead of reality?), “it’s not your job to take care of me”... (at least, that’s a takeaway from the “every man for himself” idea that we learn in capitalism, right?)
What concerns me, though, is that I’m probably not the only person who’s felt more and more isolated, as he’s aged through the stages of life. Also, without any community, how are people going to start treating each other? Without the love and respect built through community building, what are the chances that people will turn to crime, abuse, and violence? Or... scaling down... to dismissing each other, or cultivating stranger danger?
Yet, many would rather live in the fantastical stories touted by the media, instead of taking the time to honestly try to connect with their neighbors. When we make our neighbors invisible, then it’s easier for those neighbors to live counter to our ideals... or for us to paint them as doing so...
Another long text wall. Yay.
(There’s probably a whole other spinoff about taking care with the words I use, especially being much more specific instead of broad generalizations... but, these are not hard facts, just starting hypotheses)
23 January 2019
So, I went to HEB today, hoping to use my new Capital Metro Reduced Fare card on a new weekly pass; because that would cover my bus needs until I get paid again...
They do not sale the reduced fare weekly pass at HEB.
I can not afford the reduced fare monthly pass, right now. (It’s been an impoverished winter school break)
This put a damper on my day...
They do not sale the reduced fare weekly pass at HEB.
I can not afford the reduced fare monthly pass, right now. (It’s been an impoverished winter school break)
This put a damper on my day...
I’m not sure if I’ll be fasting, today.
I had half a bag of a popcorn and nuts mix at work, and 2 slices of ham. I took a can of Progresso split pea soup there, too; but did not set aside the time to make it - or even a heat in the pouch bean mix...
I’m going home to a sparse pantry, and a couple of leftovers in the fridge... yet I’m afraid to make any of that, because I do not know when I will be able to replace it.
There’s no money in my bank account, and no active credit cards in my name...
Oh, but I do have 10 $10 gift cards to Alamo Drafthouse, and 2 movie passes left; due to my volunteer efforts with Fantastic Fest, last fall.
I’m not sure if I could sleep well, on an empty stomach, though.
I’ll probably just eat the fridge leftovers, and be faced with this same type of ruminating, over the days to come. .*Le Sigh*.
I had half a bag of a popcorn and nuts mix at work, and 2 slices of ham. I took a can of Progresso split pea soup there, too; but did not set aside the time to make it - or even a heat in the pouch bean mix...
I’m going home to a sparse pantry, and a couple of leftovers in the fridge... yet I’m afraid to make any of that, because I do not know when I will be able to replace it.
There’s no money in my bank account, and no active credit cards in my name...
Oh, but I do have 10 $10 gift cards to Alamo Drafthouse, and 2 movie passes left; due to my volunteer efforts with Fantastic Fest, last fall.
I’m not sure if I could sleep well, on an empty stomach, though.
I’ll probably just eat the fridge leftovers, and be faced with this same type of ruminating, over the days to come. .*Le Sigh*.
19 January 2019
"Tis a wonderful moment,
To be alive, and in communion;
To be safe and secure,
Knowing that Death works with another
While Dream is crafting, in real-time, memory's mother..."
When the eggs are fluffy,
And the nopales juicy,
And the coffee stays full...
The sun need not break the horizon, too.
When animals approach you
With wonder and enthusiasm...
Knowing you would not torment them so.
Alas, 'tis also a pity
That the phone, and the TV
And all the electronic world
Throw up so many distractions,
So many people, prancing in pretense -
(Like this very poem, perhaps?) _
All that in their brittle attempts
To be noticed
Before their brief candle gets snuffed out...
"Out, Out, Damn Spot!"
That I would not measure up,
That I was not worth some false achievement!
The stain of the judgements
Eats at the fabric of my soul...
And all the distractions
And all the king's decrees
Would cloud my mind
And make me forget the joy of being me!
Oh, there are duties to fulfill
And so many terrible bills,
And they all steal that gleam in my eye,
By making me hate the struggle,
And despise the endless trudge,
Day after day, looking only to die.
When I fall into that trap,
When I live another's picture of life,
Everything becomes grey and flat
And my mind fills up so much strife;
And I cry out, Out
In the dead of night!
Ah, to return to safety and security,
To try, as well as I may,
To communicate, to share,
To craft all my world with what I would say -
And hope, ever so much, that you will not try to affect me
So as to be trapped, like some Dorian Gray,
In your picture of life:
"For it may suit you fine,
But it does not give me peace of mind."
To be alive, and in communion;
To be safe and secure,
Knowing that Death works with another
While Dream is crafting, in real-time, memory's mother..."
When the eggs are fluffy,
And the nopales juicy,
And the coffee stays full...
The sun need not break the horizon, too.
When animals approach you
With wonder and enthusiasm...
Knowing you would not torment them so.
Alas, 'tis also a pity
That the phone, and the TV
And all the electronic world
Throw up so many distractions,
So many people, prancing in pretense -
(Like this very poem, perhaps?) _
All that in their brittle attempts
To be noticed
Before their brief candle gets snuffed out...
"Out, Out, Damn Spot!"
That I would not measure up,
That I was not worth some false achievement!
The stain of the judgements
Eats at the fabric of my soul...
And all the distractions
And all the king's decrees
Would cloud my mind
And make me forget the joy of being me!
Oh, there are duties to fulfill
And so many terrible bills,
And they all steal that gleam in my eye,
By making me hate the struggle,
And despise the endless trudge,
Day after day, looking only to die.
When I fall into that trap,
When I live another's picture of life,
Everything becomes grey and flat
And my mind fills up so much strife;
And I cry out, Out
In the dead of night!
Ah, to return to safety and security,
To try, as well as I may,
To communicate, to share,
To craft all my world with what I would say -
And hope, ever so much, that you will not try to affect me
So as to be trapped, like some Dorian Gray,
In your picture of life:
"For it may suit you fine,
But it does not give me peace of mind."
When the wind cries "Bloody Mary"!
Beating upon my window panes
With a primordial rage,
And twisting tree tops about,
Like tangled marionettes on a carnival stage..
Oh, how the wolves are born
By the gusts and swooshing walls..
is this vogon poetry?
The air is attacking,
Aloft upon a vorpal sword -
A brief respite,
From its voracious snicker-snack...
A deep doubt
As to safe travels, today...
Beating upon my window panes
With a primordial rage,
And twisting tree tops about,
Like tangled marionettes on a carnival stage..
Oh, how the wolves are born
By the gusts and swooshing walls..
is this vogon poetry?
The air is attacking,
Aloft upon a vorpal sword -
A brief respite,
From its voracious snicker-snack...
A deep doubt
As to safe travels, today...
# Nurture Gratitude for Our Presents
I'm fairly exhausted, and I have yet to prepare dinner. The stuff I have available for dinner is a mixed bag of things from friends' charity and food banks, and does not seem super appealing. Yet, ordering out is not an option, because money has been tight with the school's winter back (and corresponding lack of tutoring hours).
I think I will lie down for a bit, and hope that recharges me enough to make some sort of dinner later.
#CultivateGratitudeForWhatYouHave - there... let's try to get this hashtag viral, eh?
______________________
#CultivateGratitudeForWhatYouHave could also be taken as a command to others, as well as myself... (Stop focusing on the deficiencies, and be grateful for your life, as it is)
however, maybe it could be we instead of you - trying to build community and move away from a self-centered or blame-centered phrasing...
although I like cultivate, it does add a bit of extra typing...
could we revise this to
#GrowGratitudeForWhatWeHave ? Would that work better?
Perhaps
#NurtureGratitudeForWhatWeHave ..?
Or... instead of the possessive Have, it could be Own, pointing to a sense of acceptance, too? ...maybe something else... Our Gifts?
#NurtureGratitudeForOurPresents (because there's a touch of homonymic double meaning, with Presents rhyming with Presence)
______________________
Even though I am adept at mathematics, there is still much joy and wonder to be found in others' proofs and methods. When I'm typing, I can be rather poetic, or so some claim. I'm proud to call most of the people I interact with my friends, and I'm glad Texas still holds on to being the Friendly State.
I do not need a lot of material things, nor do I need to be overflowing with pop culture and other information - for this can better help me to be amazed when someone else tells their stories.
(perhaps more in a later post - I need not put up a text wall with every writing)
#NurtureGratitudeForOurPresents
I think I will lie down for a bit, and hope that recharges me enough to make some sort of dinner later.
#CultivateGratitudeForWhatYouHave - there... let's try to get this hashtag viral, eh?
______________________
#CultivateGratitudeForWhatYouHave could also be taken as a command to others, as well as myself... (Stop focusing on the deficiencies, and be grateful for your life, as it is)
however, maybe it could be we instead of you - trying to build community and move away from a self-centered or blame-centered phrasing...
although I like cultivate, it does add a bit of extra typing...
could we revise this to
#GrowGratitudeForWhatWeHave ? Would that work better?
Perhaps
#NurtureGratitudeForWhatWeHave ..?
Or... instead of the possessive Have, it could be Own, pointing to a sense of acceptance, too? ...maybe something else... Our Gifts?
#NurtureGratitudeForOurPresents (because there's a touch of homonymic double meaning, with Presents rhyming with Presence)
______________________
Even though I am adept at mathematics, there is still much joy and wonder to be found in others' proofs and methods. When I'm typing, I can be rather poetic, or so some claim. I'm proud to call most of the people I interact with my friends, and I'm glad Texas still holds on to being the Friendly State.
I do not need a lot of material things, nor do I need to be overflowing with pop culture and other information - for this can better help me to be amazed when someone else tells their stories.
(perhaps more in a later post - I need not put up a text wall with every writing)
#NurtureGratitudeForOurPresents
17 January 2019
what are the financial stressors
that have me so upset?
a payday loan coming due,
on a zero dollar payday,
because there was no work
during the school's long winter break.
food stamps denied,
on a 3 months in 3 years rule -
saying i must work 20 hours or more,
and I have to claim 19 or less at work.
it was an unexpected loss of funding,
after being off and on food stamps for 10 years
medical insurance?
costing a pretty penny,
and left unattended -
now, it's suspended...
and i'm back on charity health care -
much more of a hassle than private practice.
rent, looming in the distance -
trying to get it together...
but that semester break created delays
besides - government help is delayed, too.
a bus pass, a phone bill -
and that make up my Spartan budget?
Oh, there's medical debt,
credit cards unpaid, too,
and student loans slung about my neck
like some stinky albatross.
It feels like expenses have been shaved down
To where the bone marrow of my budget is exposed,
And I'm fainting at the loss of blood,
And I'm fearful that I've lost any good life.
Another tangled treatise
Could ask, "why not, two jobs?"
"Why stay stuck in part-time tutoring?"
I'm feeling weary, though
So, I might try to tackle that,
When, next I wake at 3 a.m.
that have me so upset?
a payday loan coming due,
on a zero dollar payday,
because there was no work
during the school's long winter break.
food stamps denied,
on a 3 months in 3 years rule -
saying i must work 20 hours or more,
and I have to claim 19 or less at work.
it was an unexpected loss of funding,
after being off and on food stamps for 10 years
medical insurance?
costing a pretty penny,
and left unattended -
now, it's suspended...
and i'm back on charity health care -
much more of a hassle than private practice.
rent, looming in the distance -
trying to get it together...
but that semester break created delays
besides - government help is delayed, too.
a bus pass, a phone bill -
and that make up my Spartan budget?
Oh, there's medical debt,
credit cards unpaid, too,
and student loans slung about my neck
like some stinky albatross.
It feels like expenses have been shaved down
To where the bone marrow of my budget is exposed,
And I'm fainting at the loss of blood,
And I'm fearful that I've lost any good life.
Another tangled treatise
Could ask, "why not, two jobs?"
"Why stay stuck in part-time tutoring?"
I'm feeling weary, though
So, I might try to tackle that,
When, next I wake at 3 a.m.
I write on Facebook,
Because I want to believe
That someone other than me
Is at least reading these words...
I write, instead of video,
because I want some measure of editorial control...
because my speaking persona is pretty monotone...
because I do not want to try to get fancy?
I do not know, I just hazard guesses
And make excuses
And hope the fallout is not too severe:
"Would be better to write the thoughts,
Instead of acting out on them?"
I want some amount of feedback,
Yet I do not want to be lectured,
Or denigrated and dragged through a wringer...
True story? Back in the 90's,
I hoped for something like social media -
Some means of telling a story once,
And being confidant that most everyone had heard it..
I contrast this with hearing my mom
Tell a holiday story seven times over three days,
With each telling gaining a flourish.
I do not want to recite the same example
Over and over again, like the Pledge of Allegiance -
But instead, a testament to "working X Step"...
Some could make the case
That my "sensitive words" can come back to harm me.
Some could also argue
That the lack of body language and intonation
Can make these phrases backfire horrifically.
Perhaps I am too naive - or gullible,
Too trusting that others will not
Wield what I said against me....
Yet, I try not to single others out,
Not to gossip on celebrities and politicians,
Or even just spoil movies.
Others' lives are others' affairs,
And, at best, I could only give you
My glimpse of how they appear.
Yay. a big old text wall.
a first draft, thrown up,
because i'm now restless at 2 a.m.
after a 3 hour nap.
this is the hedging prologue,
I hope to write something meatier, next
Because I want to believe
That someone other than me
Is at least reading these words...
I write, instead of video,
because I want some measure of editorial control...
because my speaking persona is pretty monotone...
because I do not want to try to get fancy?
I do not know, I just hazard guesses
And make excuses
And hope the fallout is not too severe:
"Would be better to write the thoughts,
Instead of acting out on them?"
I want some amount of feedback,
Yet I do not want to be lectured,
Or denigrated and dragged through a wringer...
True story? Back in the 90's,
I hoped for something like social media -
Some means of telling a story once,
And being confidant that most everyone had heard it..
I contrast this with hearing my mom
Tell a holiday story seven times over three days,
With each telling gaining a flourish.
I do not want to recite the same example
Over and over again, like the Pledge of Allegiance -
But instead, a testament to "working X Step"...
Some could make the case
That my "sensitive words" can come back to harm me.
Some could also argue
That the lack of body language and intonation
Can make these phrases backfire horrifically.
Perhaps I am too naive - or gullible,
Too trusting that others will not
Wield what I said against me....
Yet, I try not to single others out,
Not to gossip on celebrities and politicians,
Or even just spoil movies.
Others' lives are others' affairs,
And, at best, I could only give you
My glimpse of how they appear.
Yay. a big old text wall.
a first draft, thrown up,
because i'm now restless at 2 a.m.
after a 3 hour nap.
this is the hedging prologue,
I hope to write something meatier, next
16 January 2019
A collection of my paranoias:
- it’s cancer, and it’s spreading
- I have exhausted all help from friends and family
- nobody needs or wants my skill set or my input, and therefor, me
- my creditors, both formal and informal, are destroying my reputation
- Facebook is a dead platform, and should not be used to covey anything important
Noted that these are paranoias, and not well-grounded in reality. There could be nuances, and each could be examined to see if it has any truth. Still, they sadden me, and make me fearful of a future full of pain and suffering.
Also, how much much have I, by bad actions or bad inactions, let these fester and grow? By commenting sharply, by not trying to set up interactions, by distracting myself with trivial pursuits...
It’s a little scream, in the middle of the afternoon, a rage that stays unaddressed...? Just babbling now. Just trying to be busy, in the dead of registration - because I do easily faint/nod-off if I’m not active.
- it’s cancer, and it’s spreading
- I have exhausted all help from friends and family
- nobody needs or wants my skill set or my input, and therefor, me
- my creditors, both formal and informal, are destroying my reputation
- Facebook is a dead platform, and should not be used to covey anything important
Noted that these are paranoias, and not well-grounded in reality. There could be nuances, and each could be examined to see if it has any truth. Still, they sadden me, and make me fearful of a future full of pain and suffering.
Also, how much much have I, by bad actions or bad inactions, let these fester and grow? By commenting sharply, by not trying to set up interactions, by distracting myself with trivial pursuits...
It’s a little scream, in the middle of the afternoon, a rage that stays unaddressed...? Just babbling now. Just trying to be busy, in the dead of registration - because I do easily faint/nod-off if I’m not active.
A part of me wants to wither up and die,
Every time I am exhalted and praised...
It does not matter if I can write so well,
If that writing is not able to pay my rent.
It does not matter if I have a great personality
To the creditors who expected to be paid -
Perhaps with the weight of their sanctions.
It does not matter if I have a multitude of directions,
When I can not get out of bed, in my fits of anxiety.
I am well aware that I have some great skills,
Perhaps some interesting abilities...
I still fall through the cracks, broken and discarded,
Because I do not exactly fit that role,
That extroverted, talkative, alpha male
Bullshit that everyone wants me to be.
"I am terrified of the spotlight, don't you see?"
So, I wither and I die,
A little bit more, each day.
I hope for past help, once promised,
And, instead, I have to weather
All your kind, yet cruel, things that you say.
I realize that these are my many walls, put up,
Amidst so much smoke and mirrors,
Some feeble attempt to scream away the advice...
Yet, still... I've withered and died.
Every time I am exhalted and praised...
It does not matter if I can write so well,
If that writing is not able to pay my rent.
It does not matter if I have a great personality
To the creditors who expected to be paid -
Perhaps with the weight of their sanctions.
It does not matter if I have a multitude of directions,
When I can not get out of bed, in my fits of anxiety.
I am well aware that I have some great skills,
Perhaps some interesting abilities...
I still fall through the cracks, broken and discarded,
Because I do not exactly fit that role,
That extroverted, talkative, alpha male
Bullshit that everyone wants me to be.
"I am terrified of the spotlight, don't you see?"
So, I wither and I die,
A little bit more, each day.
I hope for past help, once promised,
And, instead, I have to weather
All your kind, yet cruel, things that you say.
I realize that these are my many walls, put up,
Amidst so much smoke and mirrors,
Some feeble attempt to scream away the advice...
Yet, still... I've withered and died.
14 January 2019
I’m Uncertain how to spend this afternoon. Torn between Austin Clubhouse and AA... maybe both...? Or I could go to Texas Workforce Commission, instead..?
Just feels like I’m spinning my wheels, though; trying to make activity when before I had expected to work (ACC budget concerns have reduced their reg support hours).
“Yes, Dad, life would be easier with a car...”
—————
(...and sneaking in the background: “I could jump off the 38th Street overpass, into I-35 lower deck traffic...”. My mind wants to kill me, to avoid dealing with my life...)
I want to try to be positive and create changes... yet I’m so worn down by the weight of my past failures.
—————
Off to the clubhouse. Hoping there’s some good produce...
Just feels like I’m spinning my wheels, though; trying to make activity when before I had expected to work (ACC budget concerns have reduced their reg support hours).
“Yes, Dad, life would be easier with a car...”
—————
(...and sneaking in the background: “I could jump off the 38th Street overpass, into I-35 lower deck traffic...”. My mind wants to kill me, to avoid dealing with my life...)
I want to try to be positive and create changes... yet I’m so worn down by the weight of my past failures.
—————
Off to the clubhouse. Hoping there’s some good produce...
I was at the bus stop this morning, when the thought came back to me:
"If I lie down, under a stopped car, in front of their back tire..."
I noticed a particularly large tire on the school bus, and wondered if his rear view mirror would catch the action, before the light turned green.
I did not do it, as I am typing this, now; yet the thought was pretty powerful, and it's not the first time that it has occurred to me.
Yes, my finances are still in the toilet. No, I do not appear to be making good progress towards getting a second job. Moreover, I am sick and tired... I am wore out... I am self-deprecating... because I feel such shame at not being able to get my income in order. Most of the time, I go to church or government services, to try to straighten this out, because I am absolutely terrified of asking friends for money.
I noticed a lot of "all or nothing thinking" or just plain distorted thinking, creeping into my mind, this morning (and above: "absolutely terrified")... Such greatest hits of thoughts like:
- I have nothing to live for
- Nobody cares about me
and - Nothing seems to be working...
If I can return to rational thinking, I can see the flaws in these thoughts. I can note the exceptions, where someone did reach out by text, or invite me to breakfast, or offer aid. Hell, there's been tons of aid offered by many of my friends, over the years. Part of me's afraid that, with some, I've reached this point of:
- "Haven't I helped you enough, Mr. Bean?" or
- "You're becoming too dependent on my help, and not on your own resources" or
- "I'm not a limitless supply of aid, and I have my own difficulties"
...which are all valid boundaries that I would like to respect (One of the reasons I'm terrified of asking for help - "my problems should not have to be your problems")
So, there's this level of defeat that's been sinking in, over the last year or two - the touch of Eeyore, too - which just thinks I should check myself in to a mental hospital; because my past 4 stays in those have been fairly pleasant. Or, perhaps run away to a monastery (Buddhist? Catholic? Either would work...) ...and the all or nothing quips in, "I doubt that anyone would miss me. I doubt my meager skills would be wanted. It would all be better, for all, to just disappear, because I already feel so terribly invisible..."
I do not know if there are easy solutions. I have lost much hope of being able to recover from my short-term setbacks, especially since they are stretched out over all my adult life.
So, I fight back the suicidal thoughts, and I recognize a Gordian Knot before me; and I wish that Occum's Razor would slice it neatly into Arianna's Thread...
"If I lie down, under a stopped car, in front of their back tire..."
I noticed a particularly large tire on the school bus, and wondered if his rear view mirror would catch the action, before the light turned green.
I did not do it, as I am typing this, now; yet the thought was pretty powerful, and it's not the first time that it has occurred to me.
Yes, my finances are still in the toilet. No, I do not appear to be making good progress towards getting a second job. Moreover, I am sick and tired... I am wore out... I am self-deprecating... because I feel such shame at not being able to get my income in order. Most of the time, I go to church or government services, to try to straighten this out, because I am absolutely terrified of asking friends for money.
I noticed a lot of "all or nothing thinking" or just plain distorted thinking, creeping into my mind, this morning (and above: "absolutely terrified")... Such greatest hits of thoughts like:
- I have nothing to live for
- Nobody cares about me
and - Nothing seems to be working...
If I can return to rational thinking, I can see the flaws in these thoughts. I can note the exceptions, where someone did reach out by text, or invite me to breakfast, or offer aid. Hell, there's been tons of aid offered by many of my friends, over the years. Part of me's afraid that, with some, I've reached this point of:
- "Haven't I helped you enough, Mr. Bean?" or
- "You're becoming too dependent on my help, and not on your own resources" or
- "I'm not a limitless supply of aid, and I have my own difficulties"
...which are all valid boundaries that I would like to respect (One of the reasons I'm terrified of asking for help - "my problems should not have to be your problems")
So, there's this level of defeat that's been sinking in, over the last year or two - the touch of Eeyore, too - which just thinks I should check myself in to a mental hospital; because my past 4 stays in those have been fairly pleasant. Or, perhaps run away to a monastery (Buddhist? Catholic? Either would work...) ...and the all or nothing quips in, "I doubt that anyone would miss me. I doubt my meager skills would be wanted. It would all be better, for all, to just disappear, because I already feel so terribly invisible..."
I do not know if there are easy solutions. I have lost much hope of being able to recover from my short-term setbacks, especially since they are stretched out over all my adult life.
So, I fight back the suicidal thoughts, and I recognize a Gordian Knot before me; and I wish that Occum's Razor would slice it neatly into Arianna's Thread...
12 January 2019
"One-Eyed Myopia"
Not felled by a proud giant,
Or tricked by a clever dwarf;
Nor native protecting a home -
He was trapped in a frozen lake,
Covered over by drifts of snow,
Ankle twisted and caught in the undergrowth...
As he felt his leg go numb,
His blood becoming one with the ice,
He mused to Odin above,
"Yes, travels with a clan could prevent this...
But I had to take the Road Not Taken -
All for promises of wealths forsaken.
Or tricked by a clever dwarf;
Nor native protecting a home -
He was trapped in a frozen lake,
Covered over by drifts of snow,
Ankle twisted and caught in the undergrowth...
As he felt his leg go numb,
His blood becoming one with the ice,
He mused to Odin above,
"Yes, travels with a clan could prevent this...
But I had to take the Road Not Taken -
All for promises of wealths forsaken.
My big, clumsy words:
The butterfly nets that the flies and gnats mock.
The nuances lost, the hidden messages unseen?
If I go on, to great lengths...?
Queue Charlie Brown into school;
And place me as the mwah-mwah, mwah-mwah
Of his teacher's voice, never to be understood.
I quibbled over slopes, today,
The whole rise over run -
And the insistence that Mister X be independent...
Wanting to capture application and bigger pictures,
I questioned if basic algebra's routine
Obscured slope's constant growth -
And, for contrast, perhaps..?
I talked about exponential decay.
I'm reminded of a disabled veteran,
Who didn't want to know the how and why:
"Just give me the process, god damn it!"
Give me something that I do not know,
And I might be guilty of this
"Reduce it with Occum's Razor!"
Like relationships, for example -
No, like sex drives, to cut to the bone!
None of us has been given clear directions,
And we're all fumbling with competing affections...
So, if I become sexless to you,
Do I then become useless, too?
If you think there will be
No affection, no attention, no presence, no protection...
Have I then lost all utility to you?
Like it or not,
We are biological creatures.
Our bodies want long and fruitful lives -
maybe some progeny, too...
spinning, spinning, spinning...
my find is ruminating
over ruined relations,
over past loves' candles
that, now, are nothing but cold lumps of wax.
(and, the danger, of not naming names,
is that many might make themselves
targets of these blames...
To this, I say,
"Is there some partial truths, then,
If you can so easily cast yourself in those roles?")
What of my own part in the morass?
Aye, yes... I can be a bit of an ass.
I would rather saunter out on my own,
Then take the time to invite others in.
Frank Sinatra's "Very Good Year" -
Just came on, on my Spotify.
I shall break off from here, to share that, too...
For the milestones, you see...
The butterfly nets that the flies and gnats mock.
The nuances lost, the hidden messages unseen?
If I go on, to great lengths...?
Queue Charlie Brown into school;
And place me as the mwah-mwah, mwah-mwah
Of his teacher's voice, never to be understood.
I quibbled over slopes, today,
The whole rise over run -
And the insistence that Mister X be independent...
Wanting to capture application and bigger pictures,
I questioned if basic algebra's routine
Obscured slope's constant growth -
And, for contrast, perhaps..?
I talked about exponential decay.
I'm reminded of a disabled veteran,
Who didn't want to know the how and why:
"Just give me the process, god damn it!"
Give me something that I do not know,
And I might be guilty of this
"Reduce it with Occum's Razor!"
Like relationships, for example -
No, like sex drives, to cut to the bone!
None of us has been given clear directions,
And we're all fumbling with competing affections...
So, if I become sexless to you,
Do I then become useless, too?
If you think there will be
No affection, no attention, no presence, no protection...
Have I then lost all utility to you?
Like it or not,
We are biological creatures.
Our bodies want long and fruitful lives -
maybe some progeny, too...
spinning, spinning, spinning...
my find is ruminating
over ruined relations,
over past loves' candles
that, now, are nothing but cold lumps of wax.
(and, the danger, of not naming names,
is that many might make themselves
targets of these blames...
To this, I say,
"Is there some partial truths, then,
If you can so easily cast yourself in those roles?")
What of my own part in the morass?
Aye, yes... I can be a bit of an ass.
I would rather saunter out on my own,
Then take the time to invite others in.
Frank Sinatra's "Very Good Year" -
Just came on, on my Spotify.
I shall break off from here, to share that, too...
For the milestones, you see...
11 January 2019
An urge...
to be mingling with my fellows...
Since, alone..?
My mind plays with the gallows...
Is that technically right? Does that literally mean I think about jail, and not about old-school executions?
Whatever...
Is it like the phases of grief, where I know that I’ve lost some measure of my financial security... and yet, in denial, I want to spend flagrantly with friends, with a blind eye turned away from the forbidding future?
Or, is it more sinister, with little weighed upon cash in pocket and far more focus upon declining physical health. Has mortality reared its pale skull, and I cower in the company of others, trying to hide from an end perceived to be far too near?
If I could throw off this mortal coil without pain or suffering... if I could just leave while sleeping quietly...
Nothing ties me to the dust, but gravity. No promises beckon in my future. I am zero, null, and all the nonsense built out of those beginnings..?
I’m blabbering right now. I really do not care if I am making sense. My body aches and my mind wants to free and my soul wants to reach out to all of you, to forget for a moment about me.
Yet, I sent in a 10 by 10 room, in a jail of my own fashion, as Spotify plays Jazzy little tunes, and a long nap in my meager bed promises a better tomorrow.
I can only hope...
to be mingling with my fellows...
Since, alone..?
My mind plays with the gallows...
Is that technically right? Does that literally mean I think about jail, and not about old-school executions?
Whatever...
Is it like the phases of grief, where I know that I’ve lost some measure of my financial security... and yet, in denial, I want to spend flagrantly with friends, with a blind eye turned away from the forbidding future?
Or, is it more sinister, with little weighed upon cash in pocket and far more focus upon declining physical health. Has mortality reared its pale skull, and I cower in the company of others, trying to hide from an end perceived to be far too near?
If I could throw off this mortal coil without pain or suffering... if I could just leave while sleeping quietly...
Nothing ties me to the dust, but gravity. No promises beckon in my future. I am zero, null, and all the nonsense built out of those beginnings..?
I’m blabbering right now. I really do not care if I am making sense. My body aches and my mind wants to free and my soul wants to reach out to all of you, to forget for a moment about me.
Yet, I sent in a 10 by 10 room, in a jail of my own fashion, as Spotify plays Jazzy little tunes, and a long nap in my meager bed promises a better tomorrow.
I can only hope...
08 January 2019
Yes, I could write about what's troubling me, right now; and yes, it would seem like more spin on the merry-go-round...
But, is Facebook even a live medium, any more? Does any of the stuff that we write here draw people into meaningful conversation? It's a strange communication, if you ask me... all likes and emoji..
So, I shall not write to great lengths about my troubles... because, a lot of it has been said before. I hope to survive until I can stabilized, I fear starvation, and I tremble at my physical health's deterioration. Riight now, I sleep, because that is terribly disrupted, too.
But, is Facebook even a live medium, any more? Does any of the stuff that we write here draw people into meaningful conversation? It's a strange communication, if you ask me... all likes and emoji..
So, I shall not write to great lengths about my troubles... because, a lot of it has been said before. I hope to survive until I can stabilized, I fear starvation, and I tremble at my physical health's deterioration. Riight now, I sleep, because that is terribly disrupted, too.
07 January 2019
A flock of black grackles
All lined up along the wires...
What could they be talking about?
Did Doug have it right -
That all bird song is weather reports,
Such as wind speed and dark clouds approaching?
Or, is this some grand opera,
With a cast of thousands,
Reciting Bird-hoven's famous 9th Chirpony?
Perhaps they are conspiring as to which foul cloud
They will herd into our fair city,
With the gentle beats of a thousand outstretched wings.
All lined up along the wires...
What could they be talking about?
Did Doug have it right -
That all bird song is weather reports,
Such as wind speed and dark clouds approaching?
Or, is this some grand opera,
With a cast of thousands,
Reciting Bird-hoven's famous 9th Chirpony?
Perhaps they are conspiring as to which foul cloud
They will herd into our fair city,
With the gentle beats of a thousand outstretched wings.
06 January 2019
How many setbacks does it take
For my mind to scream in a break...
"Down the deadly rabbit hole -
Chasing lost time? Or my tattered soul?"
Thinking, "I've got this... I've been here before..."
Not realizing how delaying has closed another door.
If saving money is akin to holding water,
Then is saving time noting breaths? "High art, there..."
now i'm trapped in structure,
and likely to waste far more time for strange turns of phrase..
such is my dilemma, as i'm distracted all hours of the days.
For my mind to scream in a break...
"Down the deadly rabbit hole -
Chasing lost time? Or my tattered soul?"
Thinking, "I've got this... I've been here before..."
Not realizing how delaying has closed another door.
If saving money is akin to holding water,
Then is saving time noting breaths? "High art, there..."
now i'm trapped in structure,
and likely to waste far more time for strange turns of phrase..
such is my dilemma, as i'm distracted all hours of the days.
i'm afraid of my lack of income, this month - not sure if it will cover my rent alone (let alone all the other bills). part of it is because ACC had it's winter break, and I did not get to work for those 2 weeks. part of it is because i am not good at budgeting my money when it gets this tight.
i tried to get started on a couple of jobs in grocery stores, to go hand-in-hand with my tutoring job. i'm relying on my experience with randall's to help me secure those. i'm also trying to get some job with AISD, but I'm very confused by what documents they want...
However, I get pulled this way and that, by non-work commitments; and I do not know what support i can get from government agencies, and....
it all feels like a clusterfuck of epic proportions
Normal people can weather the storm, and focus on their task, and land a good job after getting a degree. Or, at least, that's what I've been led to believe.
Me? I take 14 years to complete a bachelor's degree. I consistently lose jobs because me anxiety tricks me into taking too much time off, because I do not believe that I can do some part of the job (with the biggest one being showing up on time). I have a hair trigger type of reaction, where a mania or depression can knock me down with very little warning signs that they are coming.
Yeah. whining. self-pity. negative thoughts. wall-building. excuses. "Yes, I can see that there are elements of all of these, here."
Yes, I can see that by writing long meandering notes is pretty fucking passive-aggressive and non-committal.
We do not have the luxury of a face-to-face interaction, right now. You have your own inflections, and your own ways of reading all of this, which (perhaps..?) projects some of your past experiences into it. That might make you eager to chime in your ways that you solved (problem x)... "Just keep in mind, that I will skeptically take it with a grain of salt, and I might dissect/attack your proposed solutions - mostly because I distrust that they are 100% applicable.
"That felt like a soapbox"
I want an influx of money. I would prefer if it was earned quickly and respectfully.
I only half-want a second job, because I fear the time management impacts that come with it.
(In an ideal world, I wish employers did not feel like they could only employ most of their people less than half-time, in order to save the employers money on benefits. No... Actually, I wish more employers valued their employees enough that the employers would feel honored to provide benefits beyond base wages.) (a whole other soap box, though)
I wish that I could see the value that I bring to others much better, even if they do not talk about it, much. I also wish I could better see the defects that others perceive in me, especially those defects that keep them away.
The difference between rehearsal and improvisation? With rehearsal (or journaling or inventory) - we find efficient ways to express ourselves (we have our conversation planned out)... With improvisation, we might uncover (a la DMDR) thoughts and feelings that we are not aware of. (a theory, mind you)
Some people love to tell the same stories, over and over again. They love to hammer their resentments into deadly weapons. While others would constantly act on the fly, thinking they save time, by improv, instead of making plans that never come to fruition. It could be a binary scale, or it could be more of a spectrum... (a diffierent soap box.. just wondering if people want the familiar or the suprising.)
i tried to get started on a couple of jobs in grocery stores, to go hand-in-hand with my tutoring job. i'm relying on my experience with randall's to help me secure those. i'm also trying to get some job with AISD, but I'm very confused by what documents they want...
However, I get pulled this way and that, by non-work commitments; and I do not know what support i can get from government agencies, and....
it all feels like a clusterfuck of epic proportions
Normal people can weather the storm, and focus on their task, and land a good job after getting a degree. Or, at least, that's what I've been led to believe.
Me? I take 14 years to complete a bachelor's degree. I consistently lose jobs because me anxiety tricks me into taking too much time off, because I do not believe that I can do some part of the job (with the biggest one being showing up on time). I have a hair trigger type of reaction, where a mania or depression can knock me down with very little warning signs that they are coming.
Yeah. whining. self-pity. negative thoughts. wall-building. excuses. "Yes, I can see that there are elements of all of these, here."
Yes, I can see that by writing long meandering notes is pretty fucking passive-aggressive and non-committal.
We do not have the luxury of a face-to-face interaction, right now. You have your own inflections, and your own ways of reading all of this, which (perhaps..?) projects some of your past experiences into it. That might make you eager to chime in your ways that you solved (problem x)... "Just keep in mind, that I will skeptically take it with a grain of salt, and I might dissect/attack your proposed solutions - mostly because I distrust that they are 100% applicable.
"That felt like a soapbox"
I want an influx of money. I would prefer if it was earned quickly and respectfully.
I only half-want a second job, because I fear the time management impacts that come with it.
(In an ideal world, I wish employers did not feel like they could only employ most of their people less than half-time, in order to save the employers money on benefits. No... Actually, I wish more employers valued their employees enough that the employers would feel honored to provide benefits beyond base wages.) (a whole other soap box, though)
I wish that I could see the value that I bring to others much better, even if they do not talk about it, much. I also wish I could better see the defects that others perceive in me, especially those defects that keep them away.
The difference between rehearsal and improvisation? With rehearsal (or journaling or inventory) - we find efficient ways to express ourselves (we have our conversation planned out)... With improvisation, we might uncover (a la DMDR) thoughts and feelings that we are not aware of. (a theory, mind you)
Some people love to tell the same stories, over and over again. They love to hammer their resentments into deadly weapons. While others would constantly act on the fly, thinking they save time, by improv, instead of making plans that never come to fruition. It could be a binary scale, or it could be more of a spectrum... (a diffierent soap box.. just wondering if people want the familiar or the suprising.)
02 January 2019
31 December 2018
Sitting in front of the computer for the last 20 minutes,
Rehearsing and then rejecting posts.
I do not want to be a broken record
Or a collection of memes and one-liners.
Is there a purpose to my life, a meaning for my suffering?
Will anyone remember me, when I am gone?
Like a well-oiled scratch,
I pick at this virtual scab,
Hoping it distracts me from the persistent sores
Up and down my body...
I do not want to brag, I do not want to puff myself up.
I would hope that what I share is worth some joy
To someone - to lift them from their despair.
Yet, I post about sadness and morbidity,
And the dark clouds upon my brain,
Fostered by "recovery meetings", again and again?
I hear the praise from my supervisor
After returning to tutoring,
And I hear the deafening silence...
Makes me think I'm pressed flat
Into a shallow math man,
Like how they cast me as the Count,
At a Christmas party, way long ago.
Could it help? Would it help?
If I was more vocal
About what I like and dislike
All about me, in this mixed-up world?
Should I rattle my saber and shake my fist
And take some sides, just to try to fit in?
another pause, wondering where I'm going...
another sigh, wondering where I've been...
Do I even pick up all my broken pieces,
When I suspect I'll just fall of the wall, again?
Rehearsing and then rejecting posts.
I do not want to be a broken record
Or a collection of memes and one-liners.
Is there a purpose to my life, a meaning for my suffering?
Will anyone remember me, when I am gone?
Like a well-oiled scratch,
I pick at this virtual scab,
Hoping it distracts me from the persistent sores
Up and down my body...
I do not want to brag, I do not want to puff myself up.
I would hope that what I share is worth some joy
To someone - to lift them from their despair.
Yet, I post about sadness and morbidity,
And the dark clouds upon my brain,
Fostered by "recovery meetings", again and again?
I hear the praise from my supervisor
After returning to tutoring,
And I hear the deafening silence...
Makes me think I'm pressed flat
Into a shallow math man,
Like how they cast me as the Count,
At a Christmas party, way long ago.
Could it help? Would it help?
If I was more vocal
About what I like and dislike
All about me, in this mixed-up world?
Should I rattle my saber and shake my fist
And take some sides, just to try to fit in?
another pause, wondering where I'm going...
another sigh, wondering where I've been...
Do I even pick up all my broken pieces,
When I suspect I'll just fall of the wall, again?
30 December 2018
"Jet Trash"
I am a friend of convenience,
An associate easily tossed to the side,
Like that "used piece of jet trash"
Because you fear no repercussions,
For I am also nothing but smoke, in your eyes.
...or am I Carlos?
(some bits lifted out of "Frank's Wild Years", song by Tom Waits)
An associate easily tossed to the side,
Like that "used piece of jet trash"
Because you fear no repercussions,
For I am also nothing but smoke, in your eyes.
...or am I Carlos?
(some bits lifted out of "Frank's Wild Years", song by Tom Waits)
24 December 2018
watching another thread unravel,
as people treat these screens as walls -
throwing gelatinous napalm to see what sticks?
I am not pure and I am detached...
So easy to start a war
With words wanton and unwise.
Having worked in an inbound call center,
I can attest that phones are not much better...
Off on a divergent tangent,
Making assumptions on physique or speech
That lead some minds to debasing slurs -
Another simple screen, yes -
That's got deadly hidden roots
In simplifying the complex.
as people treat these screens as walls -
throwing gelatinous napalm to see what sticks?
I am not pure and I am detached...
So easy to start a war
With words wanton and unwise.
Having worked in an inbound call center,
I can attest that phones are not much better...
Off on a divergent tangent,
Making assumptions on physique or speech
That lead some minds to debasing slurs -
Another simple screen, yes -
That's got deadly hidden roots
In simplifying the complex.
22 December 2018
After a few setbacks and criticisms, I have felt a bit threatened.
I called the insurance company on Friday to set up a payment plan to catch up my insurance; and was told that the partial payment would reactivate it - this did not happen and I had to call back multiple times over the next 4 days before I was told of the official policy: “Suspended until paid in full” I ran out of meds, which quickly led to a fairly severe mixed episode. (I was able to get the meds refilled, and I now feel some return to normalcy...)
I took my trench coat in for some repairs; and it was returned with missing buttons and missing zipper teeth for the inner liner, making the liner unattachable. I tried to argue for some customer service or recompensation for those damages, but to no avail.
I once again was reminded that my budget can easily fall apart, if I do not keep a tight rein on it; and yet I fret over the lack of fridge and freezer space that I have available to me, at the new housing... which, in turn, stresses me out immensely about not being able to pay rent on time (and possibly being asked to move out)
I have not tried yo make it out to any Christmas festivities. Part of me wants to, while part of feels immense shame at not being able to give more of myself or my time.
“Yadda yadda yadda” ... you might be saying, “same old squeals, change the record”... I feel kind of traumatized by my current circumstances. I still do not think that I have a good social support network built up around me (partly because I do not put a lot of effort into interjecting myself into your lives - a weird “respect for privacy”, as it were?)
(A couple of rejections, and I think, “it does not make sense to stay in that scenario”...)
I called the insurance company on Friday to set up a payment plan to catch up my insurance; and was told that the partial payment would reactivate it - this did not happen and I had to call back multiple times over the next 4 days before I was told of the official policy: “Suspended until paid in full” I ran out of meds, which quickly led to a fairly severe mixed episode. (I was able to get the meds refilled, and I now feel some return to normalcy...)
I took my trench coat in for some repairs; and it was returned with missing buttons and missing zipper teeth for the inner liner, making the liner unattachable. I tried to argue for some customer service or recompensation for those damages, but to no avail.
I once again was reminded that my budget can easily fall apart, if I do not keep a tight rein on it; and yet I fret over the lack of fridge and freezer space that I have available to me, at the new housing... which, in turn, stresses me out immensely about not being able to pay rent on time (and possibly being asked to move out)
I have not tried yo make it out to any Christmas festivities. Part of me wants to, while part of feels immense shame at not being able to give more of myself or my time.
“Yadda yadda yadda” ... you might be saying, “same old squeals, change the record”... I feel kind of traumatized by my current circumstances. I still do not think that I have a good social support network built up around me (partly because I do not put a lot of effort into interjecting myself into your lives - a weird “respect for privacy”, as it were?)
(A couple of rejections, and I think, “it does not make sense to stay in that scenario”...)
I am not making great progress towards most of the traditional American measures of success... (loving partner, family, household and vehicles my own, rewarding and satisfying career, ample retirement funds, excellent health)
Most days, I’m like, “whatever...”; but there are some days where the poverty, insecurity, and isolation this can cause tear apart my mind.
I think some would say, “focus on the positive! Be more happy! Attract the things you want! Make time and energy for what really matters!”
It’s really tough to present a happy face, though, when envy starts to sink in, when I start to want some mythical dream life that’s been paraded in front of me, all of my life, through our media. ...Or to project an appreciation of what I have been given when the engineer in me thinks he can sees ways to improve upon it.
Not sure how much of that makes sense, because I’m not trying to write a novel on it.
Most days, I’m like, “whatever...”; but there are some days where the poverty, insecurity, and isolation this can cause tear apart my mind.
I think some would say, “focus on the positive! Be more happy! Attract the things you want! Make time and energy for what really matters!”
It’s really tough to present a happy face, though, when envy starts to sink in, when I start to want some mythical dream life that’s been paraded in front of me, all of my life, through our media. ...Or to project an appreciation of what I have been given when the engineer in me thinks he can sees ways to improve upon it.
Not sure how much of that makes sense, because I’m not trying to write a novel on it.
21 December 2018
I'm exhausted from "trying to keep it together".
I'm panicking from not being able to meet my expenses this month... So much so, that I'm posting about jumping off bridges (scroll back in my wall, and you'll find the post), and "begging for help in passive-aggressive approaches". So much so, that the vital bills are lapsing, putting me even worse off with other expenses (the medical insurance saga)
So, I try to keep this off facebook, because i have weird projections on my part of how people will say "Oh no, not again!" ...or seeing the same responses from the same people; and thinking, "why do you keep saying that!?" ....worse of all, seeing no responses; and just getting more and more frustrated and angry.
It's like I'm screaming inside, "God, help me, please!!" and yet trying to project a happy face to be polite... or being honest about my situation and getting blank stares and confused reactions.
i'm probably blabbering like a rabid dog to y'all, now.... and I feel that most everyone has made no attempts to reach out, to suggest they could be helpful.
Honestly, just driving me battier and battier...
And it paints everyone claiming to be available and willing to help as hypocrites, if you ask me. (but then i have to keep remembering that i'm not at front doorstep, begging for pennies - because that's what it feels like to get through to anyone, anymore...
So, that is my rant, I guess. I feel helpless, I ask for help, and I get nothing. (and my mind turns ever darker...)
I'm panicking from not being able to meet my expenses this month... So much so, that I'm posting about jumping off bridges (scroll back in my wall, and you'll find the post), and "begging for help in passive-aggressive approaches". So much so, that the vital bills are lapsing, putting me even worse off with other expenses (the medical insurance saga)
So, I try to keep this off facebook, because i have weird projections on my part of how people will say "Oh no, not again!" ...or seeing the same responses from the same people; and thinking, "why do you keep saying that!?" ....worse of all, seeing no responses; and just getting more and more frustrated and angry.
It's like I'm screaming inside, "God, help me, please!!" and yet trying to project a happy face to be polite... or being honest about my situation and getting blank stares and confused reactions.
i'm probably blabbering like a rabid dog to y'all, now.... and I feel that most everyone has made no attempts to reach out, to suggest they could be helpful.
Honestly, just driving me battier and battier...
And it paints everyone claiming to be available and willing to help as hypocrites, if you ask me. (but then i have to keep remembering that i'm not at front doorstep, begging for pennies - because that's what it feels like to get through to anyone, anymore...
So, that is my rant, I guess. I feel helpless, I ask for help, and I get nothing. (and my mind turns ever darker...)
17 December 2018
To add insult to injury...
Jack Brown Cleaners jacked up my trench coat’s winter liner, in the process of patching it. I am now missing both sleeve inner liner buttons, and the zipper popped out two teeth.
I know the coat is old (Christmas ‘92 gift from my mom)...
I tried to point all this out to the staff, but they were saying that i’d have to take it up with the manager, when she got back from lunch.
“Thanks for such lovely customer service.”
(Is it worth a yelp? I do not know... at least, it’s worth a phone call later...)
Jack Brown Cleaners jacked up my trench coat’s winter liner, in the process of patching it. I am now missing both sleeve inner liner buttons, and the zipper popped out two teeth.
I know the coat is old (Christmas ‘92 gift from my mom)...
I tried to point all this out to the staff, but they were saying that i’d have to take it up with the manager, when she got back from lunch.
“Thanks for such lovely customer service.”
(Is it worth a yelp? I do not know... at least, it’s worth a phone call later...)
Pushing back against this impulse
To dive off an over-pass
Into a highway’s late-night traffic -
That way, the cars would be going fast,
And maybe, just maybe,
I’d leave my mark upon Texas...
“If you see something, Say something”
Just broadcast over the bus intercom...
(Perhaps you should call 9-1-1)
I push back against that thought,
Predicting too much harm caused to all...
Yet, so many doors are closing, locking -
And a frenzy is upon me, Dark and heavy...
Another thought -
Just now, while roboting my way
Through another painful appointment:
“Why not return to ASH?
At least, it’s 3 hots and a cot;
While my world crumbles away
And the ashes of my life
Become dust on the wind...”
A wind is blowing,
But it is not born by angel’s wings -
No angel is here to save me,
No miracles await me..
To dive off an over-pass
Into a highway’s late-night traffic -
That way, the cars would be going fast,
And maybe, just maybe,
I’d leave my mark upon Texas...
“If you see something, Say something”
Just broadcast over the bus intercom...
(Perhaps you should call 9-1-1)
I push back against that thought,
Predicting too much harm caused to all...
Yet, so many doors are closing, locking -
And a frenzy is upon me, Dark and heavy...
Another thought -
Just now, while roboting my way
Through another painful appointment:
“Why not return to ASH?
At least, it’s 3 hots and a cot;
While my world crumbles away
And the ashes of my life
Become dust on the wind...”
A wind is blowing,
But it is not born by angel’s wings -
No angel is here to save me,
No miracles await me..
So, I see all those posts
About removing toxic people,
Beyond “your white picket fences”...
...and I wonder to myself,
“How’s my chemistry?
Am I a noble gas,
Or a caustic halide?”
Then, I see this other dialogue,
Claiming I need to be open
About all my life’s troubles,
‘Lest I slip into suicide’s silence...
...and now,
My faltering, fractured mind,
Can’t make sense of January,
And all the duplicity
Amuck in society.
I wonder if I speak
From an abandoned soapbox,
“Because we want to be entertained,
And not taken to task
To help those in need!”
Like the Beatles, but parody:
“I am Scrooge, You are Scrooge,
We are not together...”
Taking hostages,
Hoping for a quick fix -
Branded a lunatic
And scorned and avoided,
Like all the mentally sick.
Waxing in weird ways
And laying it on thick...
Drowning in a sea of anxiety,
Thinking, “what’s the use, anyway?”
And getting ever more morbid,
Hoping Death might me whisk away
From all this pain and turmoil,
So that I no longer need to
Be aware of the deafening silence.
Oh, I am going out to meet and greet?
“Let me put on my happy face...”
About removing toxic people,
Beyond “your white picket fences”...
...and I wonder to myself,
“How’s my chemistry?
Am I a noble gas,
Or a caustic halide?”
Then, I see this other dialogue,
Claiming I need to be open
About all my life’s troubles,
‘Lest I slip into suicide’s silence...
...and now,
My faltering, fractured mind,
Can’t make sense of January,
And all the duplicity
Amuck in society.
I wonder if I speak
From an abandoned soapbox,
“Because we want to be entertained,
And not taken to task
To help those in need!”
Like the Beatles, but parody:
“I am Scrooge, You are Scrooge,
We are not together...”
Taking hostages,
Hoping for a quick fix -
Branded a lunatic
And scorned and avoided,
Like all the mentally sick.
Waxing in weird ways
And laying it on thick...
Drowning in a sea of anxiety,
Thinking, “what’s the use, anyway?”
And getting ever more morbid,
Hoping Death might me whisk away
From all this pain and turmoil,
So that I no longer need to
Be aware of the deafening silence.
Oh, I am going out to meet and greet?
“Let me put on my happy face...”
16 December 2018
courtesy of my dad's joke files:
-----
When four of Santa's elves got sick, the trainee elves did not produce toys as fast as the regular ones, and Santa began to feel the Christmas pressure.
Then, Mrs. Claus told Santa her Mother was coming to visit, which stressed Santa even more.
He went to harness the reindeer, he found that three of them were about to give birth and two others had jumped the fence and were out, Heaven knows where.
When he began to load the sleigh, one of the floorboards cracked, the toy bag fell to the ground and all the toys were scattered.
Frustrated, Santa went in the house for a glass of cider and a shot of rum.
In his frustration, he accidentally dropped the cider jug, and it broke into hundreds of little glass pieces all over the kitchen floor.
He went to get the broom and found the mice had eaten all the straw off the end of the broom.
Just then the doorbell rang, and an irritated Santa marched to the door, yanked it open, and there stood a little angel with a great big Christmas tree.
The angel said very cheerfully, 'Merry Christmas, Santa. Isn't this a lovely day? I have a beautiful tree for you. Where would you like me to stick it?'
And so began the tradition of the little angel on top of the Christmas tree.
Not a lot of people know this.
-----
When four of Santa's elves got sick, the trainee elves did not produce toys as fast as the regular ones, and Santa began to feel the Christmas pressure.
Then, Mrs. Claus told Santa her Mother was coming to visit, which stressed Santa even more.
He went to harness the reindeer, he found that three of them were about to give birth and two others had jumped the fence and were out, Heaven knows where.
When he began to load the sleigh, one of the floorboards cracked, the toy bag fell to the ground and all the toys were scattered.
Frustrated, Santa went in the house for a glass of cider and a shot of rum.
In his frustration, he accidentally dropped the cider jug, and it broke into hundreds of little glass pieces all over the kitchen floor.
He went to get the broom and found the mice had eaten all the straw off the end of the broom.
Just then the doorbell rang, and an irritated Santa marched to the door, yanked it open, and there stood a little angel with a great big Christmas tree.
The angel said very cheerfully, 'Merry Christmas, Santa. Isn't this a lovely day? I have a beautiful tree for you. Where would you like me to stick it?'
And so began the tradition of the little angel on top of the Christmas tree.
Not a lot of people know this.
I see both a mania and a depression bubbling to the surface of my consciousness...
and I see the (possibly environmental) triggers, aggravated as hell, with no "easy solutions"...
...and rational Bean is screaming in terrified agony at how helpless he feels, at how much damage is building upon the horizon, at how "life is heading straight down the toilet, AGAIN..."
...and so, the suicidal thoughts start to crowd in, and so the desire to escape or run away pulls at me, and so the urge to drown out my sorrows in addictive behaviors around food, sex, gambling, and drugs come rushing in -- Just throwing distractions at my life, while my mind crumbles and caves in, which is really just expressing the mania..?
...the frantic racing to find some easy solution, the grasping at straws in the hopes that one will give me breathing room, again. Yet, as the neurons burn themselves to ashes - *SNaP* - and now the brain wants to turn away from the world, to rest and recover and try to regain strength. Unfortunately, it's still burning away, obsessing over the problems, even as I cower under the bed covers.
Looking for excuses, for explanations, for escapes - some sort of hope that it could all be fixed away. Looking for some sort of support, as my world crumbles away. But, there is no easy solution presenting, "No fucking manifestation of my desires"...
Hoping the switch doesn't flip, where, instead, I look for oblivion.
and I see the (possibly environmental) triggers, aggravated as hell, with no "easy solutions"...
...and rational Bean is screaming in terrified agony at how helpless he feels, at how much damage is building upon the horizon, at how "life is heading straight down the toilet, AGAIN..."
...and so, the suicidal thoughts start to crowd in, and so the desire to escape or run away pulls at me, and so the urge to drown out my sorrows in addictive behaviors around food, sex, gambling, and drugs come rushing in -- Just throwing distractions at my life, while my mind crumbles and caves in, which is really just expressing the mania..?
...the frantic racing to find some easy solution, the grasping at straws in the hopes that one will give me breathing room, again. Yet, as the neurons burn themselves to ashes - *SNaP* - and now the brain wants to turn away from the world, to rest and recover and try to regain strength. Unfortunately, it's still burning away, obsessing over the problems, even as I cower under the bed covers.
Looking for excuses, for explanations, for escapes - some sort of hope that it could all be fixed away. Looking for some sort of support, as my world crumbles away. But, there is no easy solution presenting, "No fucking manifestation of my desires"...
Hoping the switch doesn't flip, where, instead, I look for oblivion.
15 December 2018
14 December 2018
Stealing this from David Jackson:
HOW TO BE UNHAPPY - BY EMMET FOX
Sit down quietly where you are not likely to be disturbed. Relax the body - and begin to think about yourself. Every time your thought wander to something higher, bring it back gently but relentlessly.
Think about the past. Think over all the mistakes you have made, going right back to childhood. Think over all the opportunities you have missed and the time you have wasted. Especially think of all the occasions upon which you have been badly treated.
Think about your body and wonder if your age or your job or the climate isn't beginning to tell. See if you cannot discover a pain or an ache somewhere.
Think about finances and if they are going well now, insist that this is probably too good to last.
In any case, think about yourself, that is the main point, and if you will keep this up faithfully for fifteen or twenty minutes, there can be no doubt about the result.
"Seest thou a man wise in his own conceit? There is more hope of a fool than of him." (Proverbs 26:12)
HOW TO BE UNHAPPY - BY EMMET FOX
Sit down quietly where you are not likely to be disturbed. Relax the body - and begin to think about yourself. Every time your thought wander to something higher, bring it back gently but relentlessly.
Think about the past. Think over all the mistakes you have made, going right back to childhood. Think over all the opportunities you have missed and the time you have wasted. Especially think of all the occasions upon which you have been badly treated.
Think about your body and wonder if your age or your job or the climate isn't beginning to tell. See if you cannot discover a pain or an ache somewhere.
Think about finances and if they are going well now, insist that this is probably too good to last.
In any case, think about yourself, that is the main point, and if you will keep this up faithfully for fifteen or twenty minutes, there can be no doubt about the result.
"Seest thou a man wise in his own conceit? There is more hope of a fool than of him." (Proverbs 26:12)
I find my mind in a really dark place, this morning.
"It's like I have the Cacas Touch - everything I touch turns to shit. Honestly, I can't seem to "get it together", to actually succeed at life, for a change..."
...perhaps fueled by being isolated from my family, in the current times of need and times of joy. Seeing the family game night posted, this week, (with me absent) is like a rusty nail, pounded into my heart...
In some twisted concept of being helpful, my mind thinks, "Perhaps I could go somewhere, where they could end my life, painlessly and peacefully; and then harvest my organs to help those who could better use them." I'm reminded of the blank spot, when under anasthesia, during last year's colonoscopy...
"You could just send the cremated ashes and any proceeds generated to help work down my debt, and hopefully help out my family."
(There was a more sinister variety of this particular morbidity, earlier this year, when I wondered how easy it would be to track down a snuff film, in production, on "the dark web". Not that I'm aware of any connections I might have to that, but... similar sentiments of "just process my body, like a cow, and be done with it.)
-------------
I can not see the hope and joy, in my life, right now. It's not that it's not there - it's just that I'm in this ever-constricting tunnel vision that's focusing in on the pain and isolation and immobility and fucking oubliette that I'm walling myself into.
It's an intense anxiety that has me afraid to get out of bed - it took me half an hour of paralyzed crying there to muster the courage to write this... afraid to get out and do positive things, because I'm not certain that I won't instead do something incredibly stupid. "oh, sure. 512-472-HELP" ...but I'm so tired of "being processed by our mental health care system"...
I can not see the help being offered, if it's even there. ...and I try to step past the very real boundaries and limits that keep that help healthy, if those are there.
now, i'm just rambling and making excuses, and trying to "dull the blade"... I keep piling more poo upon the pile.
because i want to talk myself out of the pity pot I'm in? because I want to lash out, instead of trying to run away?
i don't know. i really don't know.
when i turn to face reality, I hate the grotesque mask of fantasy that peers back at me...
"It's like I have the Cacas Touch - everything I touch turns to shit. Honestly, I can't seem to "get it together", to actually succeed at life, for a change..."
...perhaps fueled by being isolated from my family, in the current times of need and times of joy. Seeing the family game night posted, this week, (with me absent) is like a rusty nail, pounded into my heart...
In some twisted concept of being helpful, my mind thinks, "Perhaps I could go somewhere, where they could end my life, painlessly and peacefully; and then harvest my organs to help those who could better use them." I'm reminded of the blank spot, when under anasthesia, during last year's colonoscopy...
"You could just send the cremated ashes and any proceeds generated to help work down my debt, and hopefully help out my family."
(There was a more sinister variety of this particular morbidity, earlier this year, when I wondered how easy it would be to track down a snuff film, in production, on "the dark web". Not that I'm aware of any connections I might have to that, but... similar sentiments of "just process my body, like a cow, and be done with it.)
-------------
I can not see the hope and joy, in my life, right now. It's not that it's not there - it's just that I'm in this ever-constricting tunnel vision that's focusing in on the pain and isolation and immobility and fucking oubliette that I'm walling myself into.
It's an intense anxiety that has me afraid to get out of bed - it took me half an hour of paralyzed crying there to muster the courage to write this... afraid to get out and do positive things, because I'm not certain that I won't instead do something incredibly stupid. "oh, sure. 512-472-HELP" ...but I'm so tired of "being processed by our mental health care system"...
I can not see the help being offered, if it's even there. ...and I try to step past the very real boundaries and limits that keep that help healthy, if those are there.
now, i'm just rambling and making excuses, and trying to "dull the blade"... I keep piling more poo upon the pile.
because i want to talk myself out of the pity pot I'm in? because I want to lash out, instead of trying to run away?
i don't know. i really don't know.
when i turn to face reality, I hate the grotesque mask of fantasy that peers back at me...
13 December 2018
an ounce of prevention, right...?
...sure, eating healthy and exercising and reducing stress now help lay the foundations for reducing serious health complications down the road....
...but why does a "Healthy lifestyle" have to cost more than an unhealthy one?
...and why does healthcare have to cost so much to begin with?
...sure, eating healthy and exercising and reducing stress now help lay the foundations for reducing serious health complications down the road....
...but why does a "Healthy lifestyle" have to cost more than an unhealthy one?
...and why does healthcare have to cost so much to begin with?
10 December 2018
08 December 2018
some collection of words that try to convey how disrupted the sleep is, how the joints are aching from lack of relaxation and the stress is ever building higher...
or another group claiming such bleak isolation, self-imposed perhaps...
or that choking feeling at the top of my throat - like food wants to come up, or mucus can't go down further - or maybe it's just words that got stuck
all these little complaints, all these little wishes - to be comforted, to be comfortable, to break out of this watery cell, to climb away from this dirty earthy mud-slinging.
ah, to be grateful! to realize there are loving friends and family out there (but they are not here, now)... to realize that I ate twice today... to realize that I can attempt sleep in shelter from the rain...
to be grateful that there is still some luxury, or else I would not be typing this rambling rant, listening to the Rolling Stones, and
yet,
i court death and regret
or another group claiming such bleak isolation, self-imposed perhaps...
or that choking feeling at the top of my throat - like food wants to come up, or mucus can't go down further - or maybe it's just words that got stuck
all these little complaints, all these little wishes - to be comforted, to be comfortable, to break out of this watery cell, to climb away from this dirty earthy mud-slinging.
ah, to be grateful! to realize there are loving friends and family out there (but they are not here, now)... to realize that I ate twice today... to realize that I can attempt sleep in shelter from the rain...
to be grateful that there is still some luxury, or else I would not be typing this rambling rant, listening to the Rolling Stones, and
yet,
i court death and regret
07 December 2018
I hesitate to write,
On this cold, rainy day,
As I do not trust what...
Secrets I give away...
Perhaps, I do not trust all of you -
Unable to predict, how you use...
Where could I bury these seeds?
Where, while winter does not cease?
That they may be kept warm and safe
To blossom into grand debates...
A hint, as he likes speaking -
Alas, his heart is leaking...
Strange and bizarre, I want -
Hopes of astral travels,
But with such a long jaunt -
Will our minds unravel?
Now, I would be run out of town,
Derided as an insane clown
Lost in visions, from minds unbound...
And left to grieve, alone and down.
what strange magics are at work?
what laws do not bend?
What perplexes, now and then?
On this cold, rainy day,
As I do not trust what...
Secrets I give away...
Perhaps, I do not trust all of you -
Unable to predict, how you use...
Where could I bury these seeds?
Where, while winter does not cease?
That they may be kept warm and safe
To blossom into grand debates...
A hint, as he likes speaking -
Alas, his heart is leaking...
Strange and bizarre, I want -
Hopes of astral travels,
But with such a long jaunt -
Will our minds unravel?
Now, I would be run out of town,
Derided as an insane clown
Lost in visions, from minds unbound...
And left to grieve, alone and down.
what strange magics are at work?
what laws do not bend?
What perplexes, now and then?
06 December 2018
is it a prison sentence,
imposed by my laziness?
my body rebels,
and tries to slip away into sleep
at weird moments of the day...
my joints ache and shoot out
spasms of pain
the drudgery of trudging,
the horrible and inconsequential
feeling that nothing matters
...that i'm locked up in this,
this karmic cycle
where i can't see how to break out.
imposed by my laziness?
my body rebels,
and tries to slip away into sleep
at weird moments of the day...
my joints ache and shoot out
spasms of pain
the drudgery of trudging,
the horrible and inconsequential
feeling that nothing matters
...that i'm locked up in this,
this karmic cycle
where i can't see how to break out.
03 December 2018
A compulsion to write
..or... speak, even converse..
all these strands wanting to connect -
the little neurons afraid to go it alone?
pfft.
my heart is aching
because my brother's heart failed him,
and the futility is intense,
trying to connect to Kansas
from deep in the heart of Texas
while sinking...
i thought i heard voices,
as i tried to sleep on Monday -
calling me to come to the other side,
to forsake this vile and bitter life.
Thinking of the Tibetan "Book of the Dead",
My mind casts up a story
How Death's first visitors
Will keep us here,
Locked in cycles of reincarnated suffering...
I could be silent, or
i could whisper within my family -
yet my mind is in turmoil,
screaming that "such solace is not enough...!"
crying in my bed,
and praying novenas each day -
all in the hope that my good brother,
for a few more years, is here to stay...
and, hopefully, both of us will find good comforts, soon -
for it's hard to torment each other,
or roast each other's follies over turkey dinners
if there is no turkey to be had,
or bissful dreams to enjoy
Perhaps its an ominous warning
That the stresses we create
Build up hearts and blood irate -
And, when least we expect it,
Something gives, something bursts
Oh, to chase those voices in my head,
To give up this coil,
and sleep deep in fertile soil.
..or... speak, even converse..
all these strands wanting to connect -
the little neurons afraid to go it alone?
pfft.
my heart is aching
because my brother's heart failed him,
and the futility is intense,
trying to connect to Kansas
from deep in the heart of Texas
while sinking...
i thought i heard voices,
as i tried to sleep on Monday -
calling me to come to the other side,
to forsake this vile and bitter life.
Thinking of the Tibetan "Book of the Dead",
My mind casts up a story
How Death's first visitors
Will keep us here,
Locked in cycles of reincarnated suffering...
I could be silent, or
i could whisper within my family -
yet my mind is in turmoil,
screaming that "such solace is not enough...!"
crying in my bed,
and praying novenas each day -
all in the hope that my good brother,
for a few more years, is here to stay...
and, hopefully, both of us will find good comforts, soon -
for it's hard to torment each other,
or roast each other's follies over turkey dinners
if there is no turkey to be had,
or bissful dreams to enjoy
Perhaps its an ominous warning
That the stresses we create
Build up hearts and blood irate -
And, when least we expect it,
Something gives, something bursts
Oh, to chase those voices in my head,
To give up this coil,
and sleep deep in fertile soil.
02 December 2018
28 November 2018
I am extremely grateful for the times that I get to spend with friends, because this roller coaster that I call life reached the top of the tracks on Sunday night; and I’m just getting whipped every which way on the downhill plummet that appears to be the next two weeks...
I’m being vague about details, though, because.... of fear? Of privacy concerns? Or maybe just not much faith any more in Facrbook as a medium
I’m being vague about details, though, because.... of fear? Of privacy concerns? Or maybe just not much faith any more in Facrbook as a medium
22 November 2018
There’s this discomfort in my brain
That wants to bitch, whine, and complain -
“Oh, no, Jody! Not that, again!!”
Part of me wonders
If that’s strengthened and fueled by
All the anger and injustice
Posted through my friend’s’ feeds...
“Do your soapboxes clean up the Earth?”
Yet, I do not want to be thankful,
Just because it’s today -
“Why not be grateful 24/7, year-round?”
...and I do not want my head
Wrapped up in phone apps, all day...
Will someone unwrap me,
And whisk me away, to play?
That wants to bitch, whine, and complain -
“Oh, no, Jody! Not that, again!!”
Part of me wonders
If that’s strengthened and fueled by
All the anger and injustice
Posted through my friend’s’ feeds...
“Do your soapboxes clean up the Earth?”
Yet, I do not want to be thankful,
Just because it’s today -
“Why not be grateful 24/7, year-round?”
...and I do not want my head
Wrapped up in phone apps, all day...
Will someone unwrap me,
And whisk me away, to play?
18 November 2018
It’s 11:54 p.m., and I want a friendly conversation, yet I do want to be an imposition.
Hell, I’m not very sure what I want to talk about... maybe just babbling and blathering... and hoping that some strange magic falls into place and gives me a clear direction for navigating these holidays?
I want to voice these doubts, these fears. I want to be vulnerable, but I doubt 5 minutes would suffice. I suppose part of me wants clear validation that I am wanted... I suppose...
There’s some guilt, I suppose, in questioning you, as to the last time that you tried to honestly connect with me (beyond our Facebook likes and ha-ha’s, which so easily get lost in the shuffle)... there’s guilt, also, in reflecting the question, and asking myself, “when was the last time that I tried to honestly reach out to you?” (I know so much of my life gets sucked into big media, including all the bells and whistles of the internet.)
I know that I downplay what I could do, excusing it through lack of transportation and lack of finances. What, for many of you, is but a five minute trip in your car, becomes at least an hour trek for me, walking and bussing. What, for many of you, is a $20 purchase, without a thought, becomes the dilemma for me of paying that or paying for rent, but never able to do both...
So, now, I’m talking with myself, whistling the blues in the corner. Why does it have to be s conversation? Because it’s so much harder to gain a third-party perspective on my life, when there’s no third-party present?
I do not know what I’ll do next. Prudence says that I should just sleep it away; but that sure does sound like procrastination, too.
Hell, I’m not very sure what I want to talk about... maybe just babbling and blathering... and hoping that some strange magic falls into place and gives me a clear direction for navigating these holidays?
I want to voice these doubts, these fears. I want to be vulnerable, but I doubt 5 minutes would suffice. I suppose part of me wants clear validation that I am wanted... I suppose...
There’s some guilt, I suppose, in questioning you, as to the last time that you tried to honestly connect with me (beyond our Facebook likes and ha-ha’s, which so easily get lost in the shuffle)... there’s guilt, also, in reflecting the question, and asking myself, “when was the last time that I tried to honestly reach out to you?” (I know so much of my life gets sucked into big media, including all the bells and whistles of the internet.)
I know that I downplay what I could do, excusing it through lack of transportation and lack of finances. What, for many of you, is but a five minute trip in your car, becomes at least an hour trek for me, walking and bussing. What, for many of you, is a $20 purchase, without a thought, becomes the dilemma for me of paying that or paying for rent, but never able to do both...
So, now, I’m talking with myself, whistling the blues in the corner. Why does it have to be s conversation? Because it’s so much harder to gain a third-party perspective on my life, when there’s no third-party present?
I do not know what I’ll do next. Prudence says that I should just sleep it away; but that sure does sound like procrastination, too.
14 November 2018
I laid down. Now, I regret the nap, because I feel...
“Cooped up in my house”
...without a car, and living 20 minutes deep into a residential zone, I feel suffocated by suburbia - like I’m cut off for the evening from friends and merriment, from variety through eating out.
I want to be distracted. I want to enjoy the evening. Instead, I have electronics or chores.
First-world problems...
I saw a great video about how we’ve become enslaved to our electronics, but then, it became a commercial for an electronic writing pad. My sense of betrayal was rather rough...
I feel like I’m pounding on my high chair, demanding that someone whisk me away tonight. I feel that my boredom is trying to kill me.
“Cooped up in my house”
...without a car, and living 20 minutes deep into a residential zone, I feel suffocated by suburbia - like I’m cut off for the evening from friends and merriment, from variety through eating out.
I want to be distracted. I want to enjoy the evening. Instead, I have electronics or chores.
First-world problems...
I saw a great video about how we’ve become enslaved to our electronics, but then, it became a commercial for an electronic writing pad. My sense of betrayal was rather rough...
I feel like I’m pounding on my high chair, demanding that someone whisk me away tonight. I feel that my boredom is trying to kill me.
There’s some desire to get out of the house, to go to any one of multiple activities, tonight. Yet, I’m daunted by the trek, the possible costs...
And a piece of my soul that feels utterly defeated, that would rather cause harms to myself, or waste away, curled up in a fetal position in my bed.
I feel terribly alone, even in a crowd of thousands.
Yet, I’m also terrified of actually talking with anyone about the ambiguous anxiety... and so I remove myself, one space, and write about it, here...
And I leave my phone silenced, as I crawl under the covers...
And a piece of my soul that feels utterly defeated, that would rather cause harms to myself, or waste away, curled up in a fetal position in my bed.
I feel terribly alone, even in a crowd of thousands.
Yet, I’m also terrified of actually talking with anyone about the ambiguous anxiety... and so I remove myself, one space, and write about it, here...
And I leave my phone silenced, as I crawl under the covers...
13 November 2018
I want a purpose for my life.
I want a purpose for my life.
I want to believe that my words and actions make this world a better place for all.
So, I try not to base how I interact on race or beauty or gender or age... all the protected classes that really say that our outward appearance has nothing to do with our inner selves. (Well, except people DO respond and start building their lives by how they’re treated by others, whether it’s adored or scorned.)
I try to remember to recycle, yet I also take measures to reduce my material waste. So, I would rather eat fresh produce instead of canned veggies, I would rather eat on a plate than have to deal with take-out bags and wrappers...
I do not claim to be holier than thou - I can see how I easily slip on “this or that issue”. I can especially see my deadening, my growing indifference to the “Big Issues”... a despondency born of hopelessness.
Yet, returning to the ground, what can I do, in my daily works, to spread happiness? Some say, “take care of thyself, first!” - meaning unhealthy lifestyles just help to propagate an unhealthy mind, a cynicism...
I heard today that “it’s important to entertain people”... I see a lot of tangents off that nugget, with some good and others bad. I once thought that at the heart of all comedy is some sort of harm. Yet, stories are such an important tool for people; because our ability to communicate some extremely complex ideas is probably at the heart of our ecological dominance - not tools, but telling how to use tools. For the time saved through instruction, especially mass instruction creates time that can be used in extending and exploring what the instruction means..? (Waxing philosophically, perhaps)
I want a purpose... I want to rise above the quests for food and shelter, and I want to nurture prosperity. I want to know the my friends and family (and neighbors and even unknown strangers) are benefitting in some way by the things I did today.
I do not want to be dragged by addiction, or left abandoned and scorned, or branded a lunatic who is best to be avoided... because all of that puts walls between you and I. The fear becomes tangible, as we fail to comprehend each other.
Yet, I see, laid out before me, so many scripts and so many models of living that I have to watch which script I read; if I don’t want to be cast as old-fashioned, or dangerous, or boring ... like all those before me who chose some subset of that set of scripts.
Simply: different people expect me to behave in different ways, when facing the same situation (because that’s how their father/boyfriend/etc did it)
In the ideal world, I want to greet each day with enthusiasm. Instead, I have constant anxiety.
Really. My soul is getting ground way by the sands of time...?
I want to believe that my words and actions make this world a better place for all.
So, I try not to base how I interact on race or beauty or gender or age... all the protected classes that really say that our outward appearance has nothing to do with our inner selves. (Well, except people DO respond and start building their lives by how they’re treated by others, whether it’s adored or scorned.)
I try to remember to recycle, yet I also take measures to reduce my material waste. So, I would rather eat fresh produce instead of canned veggies, I would rather eat on a plate than have to deal with take-out bags and wrappers...
I do not claim to be holier than thou - I can see how I easily slip on “this or that issue”. I can especially see my deadening, my growing indifference to the “Big Issues”... a despondency born of hopelessness.
Yet, returning to the ground, what can I do, in my daily works, to spread happiness? Some say, “take care of thyself, first!” - meaning unhealthy lifestyles just help to propagate an unhealthy mind, a cynicism...
I heard today that “it’s important to entertain people”... I see a lot of tangents off that nugget, with some good and others bad. I once thought that at the heart of all comedy is some sort of harm. Yet, stories are such an important tool for people; because our ability to communicate some extremely complex ideas is probably at the heart of our ecological dominance - not tools, but telling how to use tools. For the time saved through instruction, especially mass instruction creates time that can be used in extending and exploring what the instruction means..? (Waxing philosophically, perhaps)
I want a purpose... I want to rise above the quests for food and shelter, and I want to nurture prosperity. I want to know the my friends and family (and neighbors and even unknown strangers) are benefitting in some way by the things I did today.
I do not want to be dragged by addiction, or left abandoned and scorned, or branded a lunatic who is best to be avoided... because all of that puts walls between you and I. The fear becomes tangible, as we fail to comprehend each other.
Yet, I see, laid out before me, so many scripts and so many models of living that I have to watch which script I read; if I don’t want to be cast as old-fashioned, or dangerous, or boring ... like all those before me who chose some subset of that set of scripts.
Simply: different people expect me to behave in different ways, when facing the same situation (because that’s how their father/boyfriend/etc did it)
In the ideal world, I want to greet each day with enthusiasm. Instead, I have constant anxiety.
Really. My soul is getting ground way by the sands of time...?
07 November 2018
As of “right this moment”, “everything appears ok”.
Yet...
I create terrible futures that are crowding in on me. (One might claim they are my mind attempting to motivate me...?)
In the darkest, I have no control over this world; and we march steadfastly into authoritarian regimes raping the planet of every last resource, just to add a penny more to the bulging pockets of the wealthy few. Or we neglect our collective duties as custodians of this Earth and cook all life off of the planet, in just one generation.
Or... our collective insanity keeps growing by leaps and bounds, as we fear do not have “enough for our comfort”. The mass shootings keep escalating, the hatred and intolerance of “the others” (or quotation marks) keeps growing and getting expressed in harsher laws and more sinister bullies and harassers. We would push each other off of the cliffs, like lemmings.. ..just to secure our temporary peace of mind?
Fear is not a rational process. A threat reduces us to animal responses - the fight or flight, so often touted.
When faced with death, our mind grieves for itself, going through those stages of denial and anger and all the other ways it tries to cope with finite mortality. Our mind struggles to understand what it sees.
When I think of the world, at large, I get overwhelmed, and our approaching end seems so complete. So, I would deny it, and avert my eyes from the world problems, and try to come back to my 5 feet of space, around me.
And yet...
My skin keeps breaking out in bites and boils. My bank account keeps dwindling down to days of pennies. All of the bedevilments talked of in AA are snapping upon my heels. I see no prospect for a love leading to a family, no companions to care for me as my body begins to fall apart.
I stare at the bathroom mirror, in the morning, dumbstruck that I have to face another day of this slow time-bomb of death and decay...
I trudge through the workdays, serving hot dogs to the homeless in the past, or explaining equations as best I can, in the present.
The futility of it all. The desperation of drowning in our pool of half-consciousness... “nothing really matters”, for we have trapped ourselves -
When joy has left life, and there seems no joy in or beyond death... then the weight of each waking moment becomes truly terrifying.
Walking across an overpass, the desire to plummet over the rail...
The bewilderment, that I entertain these thoughts...!
The nihilistic frustrations that this life has no meaning... the horrible attempts to communicate how the fears can choke the joys out of the present moment.
Because I do not want to forfeit this fleeting joy to some foul circumstances that make my mind and body suffer so.
I do not want to be some casualty of our collective insanities...
Yet...
I create terrible futures that are crowding in on me. (One might claim they are my mind attempting to motivate me...?)
In the darkest, I have no control over this world; and we march steadfastly into authoritarian regimes raping the planet of every last resource, just to add a penny more to the bulging pockets of the wealthy few. Or we neglect our collective duties as custodians of this Earth and cook all life off of the planet, in just one generation.
Or... our collective insanity keeps growing by leaps and bounds, as we fear do not have “enough for our comfort”. The mass shootings keep escalating, the hatred and intolerance of “the others” (or quotation marks) keeps growing and getting expressed in harsher laws and more sinister bullies and harassers. We would push each other off of the cliffs, like lemmings.. ..just to secure our temporary peace of mind?
Fear is not a rational process. A threat reduces us to animal responses - the fight or flight, so often touted.
When faced with death, our mind grieves for itself, going through those stages of denial and anger and all the other ways it tries to cope with finite mortality. Our mind struggles to understand what it sees.
When I think of the world, at large, I get overwhelmed, and our approaching end seems so complete. So, I would deny it, and avert my eyes from the world problems, and try to come back to my 5 feet of space, around me.
And yet...
My skin keeps breaking out in bites and boils. My bank account keeps dwindling down to days of pennies. All of the bedevilments talked of in AA are snapping upon my heels. I see no prospect for a love leading to a family, no companions to care for me as my body begins to fall apart.
I stare at the bathroom mirror, in the morning, dumbstruck that I have to face another day of this slow time-bomb of death and decay...
I trudge through the workdays, serving hot dogs to the homeless in the past, or explaining equations as best I can, in the present.
The futility of it all. The desperation of drowning in our pool of half-consciousness... “nothing really matters”, for we have trapped ourselves -
When joy has left life, and there seems no joy in or beyond death... then the weight of each waking moment becomes truly terrifying.
Walking across an overpass, the desire to plummet over the rail...
The bewilderment, that I entertain these thoughts...!
The nihilistic frustrations that this life has no meaning... the horrible attempts to communicate how the fears can choke the joys out of the present moment.
Because I do not want to forfeit this fleeting joy to some foul circumstances that make my mind and body suffer so.
I do not want to be some casualty of our collective insanities...
I’m waiting for my weekly counseling; and I realize that I’ve given up hope, these last few years, on reaching out to talk with people outside of my day-to-day activities.
Way back when, I would spend most afternoons with my nepighbors, or write multi-page letters to distant friends. Every once in a while, I’ll get on the phone for an hour, with family members...
Still... having seen so few “results” or “reciprocation” from those efforts, I’ve just drifted into this mode of “long missives on Facebook” that gather only a couple of comments (even though part of the idea is to hopefully mass communicate)
Ah, vell... off to counseling...
Way back when, I would spend most afternoons with my nepighbors, or write multi-page letters to distant friends. Every once in a while, I’ll get on the phone for an hour, with family members...
Still... having seen so few “results” or “reciprocation” from those efforts, I’ve just drifted into this mode of “long missives on Facebook” that gather only a couple of comments (even though part of the idea is to hopefully mass communicate)
Ah, vell... off to counseling...
“He blew his brains out, in the car -
He hadn’t noticed the lights had changed...”
(My attempt at quoting Beatles, from memory)
...for me, this evokes the image of someone committing suicide, even though the stressors in their life are no longer present. Considering it’s on Sgt. Pepper’s, in the late 60’s, the stressors could be eluding to the changing national politics of the time...
But, then, this could entirely be my attempt to create my angle on the story unfolding in the song. (Where we also have “woke up! Got out of bed. Dragged a comb across my head...” and the images of rushing to get ready and get to a job... [so no need to assume the lights are such grandiose issues like civil rights and the war movement...could be just a mental snapping at sitting in traffic too long]
—————
Yes, our elections of late may not have as dramatic of results as those on the polar ends would like; but they also have been swinging back and forth, as different marginalized segments exert their power to vote. Unfortunately, politics is rarely fast and rarely dramatic, when it is working sanely. I wonder, though, if we can still claim sanity for our current politics...
Then again, I could be just giving voice to the analysis claiming that our politics are becoming more and more polarized, leading to the alienation of the centrists.
—————
Not entirely sure what’s prompting this writing. I guess a feeling that anger and outrage, even if it’s believed to be justified, does not lead to good changes and solutions, and that governments move better by millimeters than by miles (because we don’t know what happens when millions are left in the dust)
——-
Not sure if that makes sense... still drafting this, as I write...
He hadn’t noticed the lights had changed...”
(My attempt at quoting Beatles, from memory)
...for me, this evokes the image of someone committing suicide, even though the stressors in their life are no longer present. Considering it’s on Sgt. Pepper’s, in the late 60’s, the stressors could be eluding to the changing national politics of the time...
But, then, this could entirely be my attempt to create my angle on the story unfolding in the song. (Where we also have “woke up! Got out of bed. Dragged a comb across my head...” and the images of rushing to get ready and get to a job... [so no need to assume the lights are such grandiose issues like civil rights and the war movement...could be just a mental snapping at sitting in traffic too long]
—————
Yes, our elections of late may not have as dramatic of results as those on the polar ends would like; but they also have been swinging back and forth, as different marginalized segments exert their power to vote. Unfortunately, politics is rarely fast and rarely dramatic, when it is working sanely. I wonder, though, if we can still claim sanity for our current politics...
Then again, I could be just giving voice to the analysis claiming that our politics are becoming more and more polarized, leading to the alienation of the centrists.
—————
Not entirely sure what’s prompting this writing. I guess a feeling that anger and outrage, even if it’s believed to be justified, does not lead to good changes and solutions, and that governments move better by millimeters than by miles (because we don’t know what happens when millions are left in the dust)
——-
Not sure if that makes sense... still drafting this, as I write...
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