My Account... of Myself

I reread a few blog entries. I guess this really has turned into a diary. It's odd how stupid something sounds after your mood has changed. I debated deleting those things which seem to me now foolish... but that would be most of them. Also... they are a record of who I am and the things I deal with... or rather, how I deal with them. In essense, it's me, or at least a portion of me. I feel to delete them would be to run and cower from myself. I have stupidity in myself the same way I see stupidity in others... I shouldn't imagine it's any different. If I face these things, I think I will be better off for them... so I won't delete them, no matter how foolish or what mood I was in when I wrote them. It's me. And notice the huge difference between the way people think, and how they actually behave. We don't write about the consistent traits we have, or the good traits, we tend to complain about the bad traits, and kick, scream, and yell about the unfairness of the world, vent our anger and frustration on the blank spaces. So, whatever I may declare to you, the reader, the counterpart of my consciousness as I write any of these blogs, please realize, as I have, that anything I tell you, especially about myself, must be seen to contain a certain amount of bullshit. I'm not lying... I'm just not getting the facts right... even for myself.

Rapturous?

Today is supposedly the day the Rapture was supposed to happen. Yeah, I didn't believe it either. It's also the day of my 10 year high school reunion. This I do believe in, even if I claim I can't believe it's been 10 years already.

But I'm actually less intrigued with the reunion than the Rapture. In any case, were the Rapture actually to happen today, I'm sure I would not be going. In the darkness of my heart burn a great many things for which they don't let you into heaven. I used to fret about it, now though, I just accept I won't be going. Not the least reason of which being that I don't really believe in the Rapture. But, supposing it exists... everything I know about being a good person, a person possibly worthy... I simply am not. My kindnesses hide the depths of my depravity, the ugliness of my thoughts. It's a habit, I thought if I practiced it, perhaps it would become natural; and kindness deals much better with people in general than negativity. It also makes one appear very weak. Weak, I am not. Full of indecision, perhaps, but press me in a corner and the beast before you changes. I am a base and vindictive creature for all of the lofty thoughts I may attempt. There are different levels to a person's mind, and I am not afraid to go to the lower levels. What scares me is how much I enjoy it. These types of things; the judgemental attitude, the hate I'm constantly repressing, trying to goad to go away... these are the things that would ensure I'd stay. Simple. Is there a kinder and more sophisticated, and caring, person inside me? Sure. He's been battled back since childhood though, and I no longer have a problem believing the worst in people. I maintain that I am practical, despite all of my ideals. Hmmm, I guess I'm writing this because I don't fully understand the duality of my situation. Right now the two impulses seem equally balanced, my impulse to be a person of higher thinking order, and the person that desires smashing the face of the guy wasting my time in the line in front of me.

Maybe I'm at a crossroads and trying to convince myself that I'm a good person... or maybe I'm a good person trying to convince myself I'm the poetic bad person... or maybe I'm up too late writing, and I'm really just normal but pissy. I guess the question will be answered when I'm pushed far enough in the corner.

Monoliths, Stained-glass, & Vestigial Wings

You can see him, there,

in the mirroring eyes:

the fallen seraph

hiding behind the smile.

He is umbilic-less;

he finds in the darkness,

the bright glass – solace.

It is never enough;

the subsistence continues—

for melodies persist

even as lyrics disperse

along the vaulted angles.

---

Absent the close-tucked

memories, the layered tufts—

pinioned, he stalks this world;

unbearably light.

Untethered... Hold Fast

I've spent a great deal of my time, my life in fact, debating if there is purpose to the universe, or not. If there is some divine plan with which I should have some accordance. I've doubted for a long time, but every so often something happens, and I start to believe again. It's as if the universe aligns and points me in the right direction. However, I'm very practical minded, and I always assume that the signs could just as easily be wishful thinking. That said, being existentialist by nature, I believe it could be true if you want it to be true. Normally though, if I look at the situation for a while, it turns out to be mist and tricks of the light. Ultimately intangible, and unsubstantial.

I experienced something, and I held out hope. I lacked reasons, either for or against, and I decided that some things are worth beleiving in. It turns out I was wrong... but rather than tear down everything that led me to the (incorrect) conclusion, I'm going to stand by my belief. I was wrong, or I didn't follow through well enough, but it was a worthy goal. I didn't really fail. But it didn't work out. I'm not going to say it wasn't meant to be, because I don't believe there is a meant to be (or, on the other hand, not meant to be). I don't look for signs anymore, I don't believe in them. We make our own lives. The universe bends to our will at the sub-atomic level, inviting us to make our choices and live our lives.

I guess, in the end... I just don't know. I feel untethered and floating... but I still believe there are things in life which are worth holding fast; worth holding tight.

What tomorrow will bring, I can't say... but I need to be ready to move forward. Right now? Right now I'm filled with frustration and anger... all of my plans; none of them matter. Everything is changed... I am changed. Tomorrow? Tomorrow hope is somewhere on the horizon, rising like the morning sun. I can't see it, and my imagination won't due it justice... but I beleive it will come. It must.

Catalyzer

The time has come, my Catalyst, to leave you. It is true, I owe you a great debt; I owe you my current life and my happiness, in fact. You were there at the pivotal moment I needed you; a little before, truth be told. I wasn't quite ready, but you guided me along the way, took me the two steps I needed to take, past the one step I was prepared to take, and so I can say with some certainty that if not for you, I would not have made the enlightening connections I needed had they been at another time, in another place. I don't even know if you are or were aware of your guiding actions, and it seems quite likely that you are unaware of them. Nevertheless, I owe you. But I cannot continue this life-size chess game. I can perform these Machiavellian machinations, but I require enjoyment from my life now, thanks to you, and I get no joy from the twists, plot turns, and dedication this large though subtle chessboard requires. And so, I am leaving. But I do not forget; I cannot forget. The debt is there, and I will repay it when I can, as I can.

It is time for me to run with the gift you have given me; I cannot run forward while looking back at you. I beg my leave, but give to you the solemn promise that I will return; I will be there when needed. I carry you with me wherever my feet lead, but you must have the freedom to walk on your own as well; my apologies for not realizing this sooner. Thank you for you, and safe journey until we again meet.