I *HATE* this room.
|
|||
|
June 30, 2010, 10:11 pm in public
That British Petroleum should be dismantled, the entire bulk of their wealth distributed to every ship, environmental expert and scientist alive to throw everything we have as a human race at cleaning up their fuckup, and each of their offices turned into a memorial for the part of the planet their executive decisions ruined. Oh, and those 12 humans that have died so far because of this. Then, I think Obama should be demoted to a lifetime stead as the fucking rent-a-cop that patrols it. If only I ran this world. Why isn’t human kind doing everything it can? Why isn’t this like the world wars where the culture and priorities of the world shifted in order to facilitate war efforts? Why do we only seem to be good at aligning in order to fucking kill each other? My best friend just had a baby. The strength, power and intention in which she has done that, the kind of person I’ve watched her become and the kind of human being she is committed to encouraging her child to be has instilled a faith in humanity I haven’t experienced before. And here, in the typical extreme fashion of my existence on this planet, is a situation which literally causes me to be ashamed of being part of such a viral, destructive, greed ridden festering wound on this earth. I’m being torn apart. Christ I think a lot. June 25, 2010, 9:18 am in members only
Permalink
I nearly died just to prove to those around me that I wanted to. May 27, 2010, 10:01 pm in public
February 12, 2010, 9:41 pm in public
I try to be a big girl and stay focused, do good work and be a good person. I’ve spent a lot of time, energy and money on forward progression and overcoming a lot of shit, in therapy and beyond. Sometimes, it’s just really demoralizing to be 30 fucking years old and still dealing with the ramifications of this in my life. Sometimes, it really does feel crushing and terrible and helpless. Still. Hug your kids. It’s worth it. http://www.helpguide.org/mental/parenting_bonding_reactive_attachment_disorder.htm January 14, 2010, 6:23 pm in public
I can’t say I really know when it happened, but somehow along the line in the last year, I seem to have reverted to a kind of post-modern version of myself. It seemed not long ago I was feeling open and loving and free. Now I feel insecure, judgmental and threatened. They say self esteem can be defined as being capable of maneuvering the challenges in life, accompanied with a sense of being worthy of happiness. I’ve got the first part down in general, I’m alive afterall, but the second, I don’t know so much right now. I’ve been unplugged and cut off, guarded and gun-shy. It doesn’t feel good. It feels sad. I’m hurting because of it. It seems some deep part of me has been thinking of Love lately as weakness. Showing mine makes me vulnerable and others showing theirs for the likes of me makes them crazy or completely stupid. That notion is preposterous, to use one of Beaus favorite words, and knowing that doesn’t seem to be stopping my guts and instincts from living there a lot more often than I deem acceptable. So it’s an emotional concern, one of those things that intellectual pick pocketing isn’t going to solve. Even then I don’t know how much I’ve actually been considering what’s been going on versus just letting my moods dictate how little I’ve reached toward others or allowed them to touch me. It takes a lot of energy to be down on yourself. I appear self absorbed because I am. The part that isn’t as easy to see is that I act that way not because I feel the world doesn’t deserve my brilliance, but because I don’t believe I deserve the brilliance of others. In an age when I am managing to support myself through a recession as a self employed healer and artist, I am all too frequently made frozen by a lack of confidence in regards to the worth of what I have to contribute in the world. I’d like to think it doesn’t show. But I suspect it does. So it’s out there now, cultivating focus. That usually gets things moving. Time to see what happens. November 17, 2008, 6:51 pm in public
It’s been an interesting few days for me. Throughout the implication of Obsidian; writing the show, bringing it all together with a cast and tech and raking in ideas from all over to add nuance and meaning, the process has seemed, to me, to be easier than I expected. Particularly emotionally. I’ve been amused and beguiled by the cast and crew of the show, the amazing community we’ve created among ourselves, and my being able to trust in others to help me tell such a huge story. I’ve marveled at how dense and wide sweeping the well of material I draw from is, that as the show developed more and more into the collaborative effort from us all I wanted it to be, the show still entirely encompasses stories and themes I relate to personally. It’s everyones and it’s mine. I dealt with some insecurity about the suicide scene in particular, and my other performances in the show, partially because as the director I didn’t have much time to work on my own stuff until the last few days before we opened. Mostly though, the show has flowed out of me, and I wasn’t very concerned. It was a very different feeling from when I first started performing, and then first started telling stories with my performance, when I would nearly throw up before I went on stage and b-line it to the green room after to shake and sob and freak out. It didn’t make much sense to me, why this one was easy. I guess I’d decided that I was going to focus on putting on a show, and not too much on why I had created it as I had. I guess it had to do with having a crew of about 40 other people creating something much larger than ourselves. I guess it had to do with being ready. On Saturday, I turned what was once my life, things I’ve held on to for so long, over to my crew to present to our audience. I was, mostly, another performer in the show, compared to my place in the rehearsal and creation process. And it was awesome. The day after the show, I was fucking wiped. Just drained all to hell. And I was intermittently crying, soft and sad and alone and quiet. Relaxing my hold. There are countless personal flavors and colors in this show. My best friend singing a minimalist, almost not applicable rendition of the song I, literally, killed myself to as a teen. A swans feather as an implement of self harm. A locket which narrowly survived being burned. Homages to films that shaped me. It goes on, and on, as deep and far back and my first memories, of snow. Obsidian, being the clearing of expression I wanted it to be for everyone involved, is also a story of the romantic relationships I’ve had in my life. A completion, an epic story, of two characters – each of which I have been, and each of which I have faced. The light and the dark and the layers under what we’re allowed to see. And in the end, the light wins. In the end, all that remains of the dark is in someone’s head, like it’s all in mine. I find it ironic, fitting, and beautiful that I’m doing this on my own, in no relationship, for the first time in my life. I’ve valued my solace. And sometimes, I think I miss being lost inside someone else, though I’ve grown wise enough not to do anything about that right now. It’s quiet here, now that these things have others to speak through. And I feel a chill, as their bony fingers seep into the air around my neck. I’m reminded, as I softly mourn the familiar grip of my old companions, that freedom, is never free. What now? June 17, 2008, 12:16 pm in public
I have to say something. Out loud. I’ve been having periodical suicidal thoughts again for the last three weeks They went from kinda being this ‘poo. maybe I should sabotage my aerial rigging’ to waking up in the mornings, laying in bed until the last possible second, planning. It’s become an actual question whether I want to off myself or get up to go to work, one day at a time. I haven’t been eating much but I’ve been sleeping pretty well, which is unusual in my experience being this depressed. Usually I am up all night, roaming. I’ve also not gone out of my way to facilitate any kind of suicide plan by procuring anything specific for it. I’m going about planning my life and writing my business plan. I’ve been showing up to work and school, passing tests, performing, and getting the things done required to graduate. Things are rough but that all means I’m fine right. What’s a panic attack here and there. And hey, my menstural cycle was 30 days this month instead of 48. In other words, I’d basically convinced myself that these thoughts weren’t important. Until this morning. This morning, I realized that I’d created a life situation for myself that if I did do something, it would likely be days before anyone came to check on me. This morning, while I laid in bed thinking about how I would do it, I realized that if I did do it, I wouldn’t reach out at all. With anything. No weird txt messages, no posts here. No note. No goodbyes. No phone calls. My plan this morning had included a ‘safety’ method to prevent me from struggling and successfully backing out once I started suffocating. I realized that I didn’t care what happened to my body, or what my corpse looked like, or how I was found. I wouldn’t do my hair, I wouldn’t try to make a statement with the method. My plan wasn’t about expressing a final something in the actions, about attention or being lonely. It wasn’t about going out with a bang. My plan was about making sure I was dead, as quietly and with as little attention as possible. I had nothing else left to say. For someone who used to be very good about talking when I felt this way, it’s strange to be in this halfway place the last couple years where it’s so hard to admit that I still struggle with this. Rarely is my head truly above water. Still. It’s ironic to me that along with the strides and increased stability, my low points almost seem more lethal and real now. I don’t tell anyone. Anyone. Until much later, if ever. And it happens more often than I want to admit. More often than even I realize. When I decided to live today, I was like.. shit. Just.. shit. So now I’m saying something. I started interviewing therapists over the phone a couple months ago in prep for graduating and being able to go back, but I hadn’t found anyone I liked who’s sliding scale and taking patients yet. I also contacted sheaperds about the group child sexual abuse therapy I wanted to start last year while i was still in school. I’m waiting to hear when they have enough people to start another group. I’m considering other options also, and in the meantime, trying desperately to stay out of the hospital. I can’t fucking stand the thought of being locked up again. I hadn’t said anything openly, really acknowledged that I’ve been suicidal, until now. I feel somewhat better and somewhat worse. My life is uspposed to be full of possibility and triumph right now. After all this time, these thoughts still creep up on me, seeming insignificant until they’re so serious and I’ve fucked my world up so much. It takes forever to get my own attention. I belittle my own state. I may call an emergency hotline this evening depending on how this step effects things. I’m not asking anyone to do anything. I know that this is scary for people and that it’s hard not to know what to do to help. Just know that I’m aware of it, seeking solutions, and reaching out. Thanks. May 1, 2007, 11:11 pm in public
I am delirious with fatigue, on my last nerve, sick to fucking death of lecture, sick to fucking death of feeling squeezed for time, squeezed for money, squeezed with responsibility and still feeling like a failure, barely passing my quizzes or getting enough practice hours in while my hands slowly rot and fall the fuck off. Fuck being a better person. I want some fucking spending money and decent sleep during the week. What the fuck am I doing this for. Who the fuck cares anyway. Still no blood but I know I’m going to any minute, I catch whiffs of myself periodically throughout the day these last two and my tits are about halfway to acceptable size. Once that finally fucking happens I have the blinding cramps to look forward to for a couple days, then maybe a week or two of some sense of normalcy before it all starts over again. Ha. Ha. Fucking ha, god, you sadistic goatfucking wad. I’m going on another pill, I’ve decided, since I’m too much of a chickenshit little abused weakling to manage to get a IUD stuck up my cunthole without flipping my psychotic shit like a pussed out little braindead fucking whore. With this one I only choke on clotted hateorade once every 3 months. If my skin manages to survive the hormonal assault and I don’t end up face down in a pool of my own rabid oral foam or on a clock tower picking you fuckers off with a rifle it may just work out pretty well, really. That’s what I’m hoping anyway. Oh, and I’m still fat in the gut after dropping 6 pounds this week, starting a liver cleanse, and taking the stairs. I guess my time has just come to look how I fucking feel. Which is somewhat like a prolapsed asshole, in case you were fucking wondering. Why? Because shut the fuck up. That’s why. October 15, 2005, 6:16 pm in public
I listened to a really fascinating segment on kexp this morning, in the “community forum” portion of Mind over Matters. It was about death and mortality, and how the awareness of which effects the human race and has contributed in a massive way to the state of the world, such as it is right now. I’m trying hard to find a transcript online but to no avail. There was so much information there that connected with things I’ve been seeing other people taking about – The oppressiveness of most education, the loss of connection between humans, the fact that we are in “the apocalypse” RIGHT NOW and all that lovely shit. But the gist of what they were saying, and have been spending a lot of time and energy studying and proving, is that the reason we find it so difficult to get on with folks who don’t share our beliefs in how reality is perceived is because it threatens the viability in our approach to internally resolving the matter of our mortality and how we handle that day by day, as opposed to the viability in how we think life should be lived. Conflict that leads to wars and genocides aren’t so much about about life and liberation and the freedom to live how we want, they are much more about the freedom to believe in our own homey version of death and what it means and what, if anything, happens after. Fighting over territory/food/power happens, we are animals after all. But, we are the only animals on the planet that understand mortality and live with that terrifying, looming fact most of our lives, we are the only animals who war over belief matters and worship methods as opposed to territory and basic survival/reproduction, we are the only animals who make these mistakes and perpetuate our own miseries. Because, think about it, if I believe that there is no heaven/hell and that I may possibly have a second chance at life, have probably lived a few already, and base my lifes work and choose how I feel I may be important in this world on how I rationalize and manage this eventual fact of dying, a person who believes otherwise and lives much differently would be a threat to my way of life, not because they want to pray seven times a day to some guy I don’t think is listening, but because if they are right in their beliefs on mortality, than I AM WRONG and so is everything I base my life upon. I think the humans in this world are fear-based because of knowledge, more than of ignorance, and that’s the conscious, crystal clear understanding that we are going to die, so I really wanted to hear more when I noted what the subject matter was. They conducted many studies where they talked to people in controlled environments and gaged a persons willingness toward violence, mass destruction, nuking other countries, and even voting for Bush, against whether they had recently considered death. People who had not been asked to think about death or something equally unpleasant answered questions VERY differently. When these same questions were asked, such as “Would it be worth it to wipe out a city of tens of thousands if it meant eradicating Osama Bin Laden”, people were much more supportive of the notion if they had been asked to think about their own mortality first. They also talked about symbols in cultures, and how they are effecting us, and how cultures, particularly ours, are going so astray. When the $ symbol is one of the most important in a society, and children have been being taught this for decades and centuries, it’s a wonder we’re not even more disconnected with the earth and our own species than we are. They touched on the civil unrest in our society, liberals and conservatives and all that. How the Olde Beliefs are obsolete in the face of science and freer thinking, which is threatening the realities of the Christian Right and so forth, and how this is an even bigger problem due to the fact that no viable alternative belief system has been offered or contrived. It was an absolutely fascinating, revolutionary piece with lots of very sobering and informative notions and facts. In the quest to understand what the fuck is going on with all this insanity and all this fighting and all this horror, the timing was just perfect and information like this is so desperately needed right now, I’m just really touched. There was so much more to this segment and I really hope that every human on the planet eventually comes to know of what these people are trying to say. It got me thinking about a lot of things, including why I’m so conflicted, annoyed, afraid of and obsessed with money and the obligatory need for making it, having it, and spending it has had in my life and our society. I want to be free of the burden of needing and/or wanting money to survive, I don’t agree with its place in our world and I feel it’s extensively evil and causes massive amounts of problems, I don’t understand why it’s become such a big fucking deal, and I don’t know how to master being financially secure. Even just having this instinct and belief causes more problems and internal conflicts for me; having this misplacement of “$” in the ranks of what’s truly important as a human being presented the way it was really clarified a lot of why I feel and act the way I do in regards to money, why it’s one of the first things to cause unrest in relationships, why I hate owing it to people or asking for it, and why I fucking want it so bad anyway. And how, we are fighting and dying and suffering over nothingness, over things we cannot prove, over things that ideally would have no bearing on our lives, tripping over our own feet, our afflicted ignorance, our frustration over not knowing something that feels so very important to understand, over our arrogance that we have the answers to the unanswerable, and our inability to just not worry about it. We are all frightened, hissing, spitting, confused children hurting each other over things we will never control. If only every person were to have the means to understand how truly futile and ridiculously unnecessary war and murder really is – so few of us when moved to express this have the focus to explain in terms that make logical sense, but there are some and hearing about this gave me .. faith, in people, to hopefully figure it out before that is futile as well. Just really a fantastic way to wake up in the morning. I had forgotten how much I liked waking up at 7:30am on Saturday to lay in bed with my cat and listen to that show. Here are the few urls I was able to dig up on the guests, their award-winning (and that’s an understatement) film documentary “Flight from Death” about this subject, and the people who have inspired them: http://www.flightfromdeath.com/ – Site for the documentary http://ernestbecker.org/ – The mission of the Ernest Becker Foundation is to bring advances in social http://plato.stanford.edu/entries/nietzsche/ – “He believed in life, creativity, health, and the realities of the world we live in, rather than those situated in a world beyond.” April 24, 2005, 7:03 pm in public
I ended up walking alone for a few hours again tonight. I don’t even mind the rain. heh. April 19, 2005, 3:06 am in public
Even when I’m catatonic, it’s hard to clear my mind. |
|||
|
Copyright © 2012 Neevita.net - All Rights Reserved
|
|||
