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The way the road goes
I have something to say. I feel deep inside that it's something important. I don't
presume to believe that I'm the only person that has said the same things or felt the
same things about this, but I believe that sometimes your handed something,
sometimes in bits and peices and after awhile it forms a picture, and you know that
the responsiblity is there to say something.
So I'm saying it.
I went to an art show yesterday. It was native american art. The days for the show
were two this year.
In previous years it's been four.
And they were open to the public. We who are not part of the native american culture
got to see their world for a few days.
We got to hear what they had to say through their art, aside from any goverment propagana.
We got to touch their culture for a little while.
Along with the cutting of the days, the time when the show is up got cut too.
A total the first day that is open to the public was 8 hours. The second day was 6 hours.
I was told that in the past it started at 10 in the morning and would go until 10 or 11 at night.
That wasn't enough to be able to say this is who we are, but it was something.
There was a brief window of time.
Now it's this even briefer amount of time which from what I saw was a market that resembled
what you get when you go to a county fair.
It's all about the money now. Right?
This bone thrown to a people who are fighting to keep who they are alive, and not some mention
as part of a history class that covers so much information in such a short amount of time,
that when you take the class and then leave it, it's forgotten relativly quickly.
It's about the money...and that sucks. It's a disgrace, the great american tragedy.
And the people running the show called America the beautiful don't really give a fuck about
anything but the money.
Thoes people, incase your wondering, are thoes folks that control the majority of the money
in this country, and because of that they have the power to say what will and won't go.
Some of those few are in very high goverment places.
They help designs the laws that the rest of the american people have to sucumb to.
We have still have the choice to say no, but even that is being stripped more and more.
We are the cattle of the few. And they really don't give a flying fuck if you or me gets sick,
looses any shelter, or if we loose our children to some side effect of their choices.
It just doesn't matter.
It's all about money. Money equals power. Power equals control.
If that's too obsene a concept. Look at it this way. You come to an ant hill. The ants
start crawling on you. From your perspective they are annoyances and distructive and so
being annoyed at ants crawling on you set about distroying the ant hill.
And you may even enjoy watching the distruction.
One less pest in your world.
You know that you can't distroy all the ants, or even all the ant hills, but this one, is going
to be gone.
You are more powerful then those ants, even collectivly. You have the technology and so
you being in control, distroy the ants.
Now it never concerns you how many baby ants are in that nest, or if they do any good
in this world or not.
All that matters is they were crawling on you and that's an offense that deserves death.
The few that hold the majority of the money and power see you and me in that same way.
And the ultimate goal, from all I can see, is that the rest of humanity is seen as having no
more value than what we can produce, how fast we can work, so that they will remain
where they are.
Because they understand we have the ablity to think and have compassion, can love or hate,
or rebel, it is in their best interest to appear to be generous.
They give relativly small amounts of money to different causes and charities, so that they will
be seen as great benefactors, and for the people and all the rest of the propaganda that
keeps the entertainment hungry population where they are.
And the reason we are so entertainment hungry is because the jobs we have, the collective
actions of the world are so disgustingly vicious, and violent in so many ways, that all
we want to do is escape. Even for a few hours.
A repreve from the madness we earn our keep in the middle of.
So, what started as a need to escape became an addiction, one that is harder to break away from
than any illgeal or legal drug that exists in the market place.
And why would you want to be free of it anyway?
It helps you cope with that job that is literally killing you. That used to be only an illustration.
Now it's more and more the reality.
We are loosing, peice by peice, inch by inch, dollar by dollar, thought by thought our lives.
It's more and more that way, every day.
It scares me.
We are selling ourselves into slavery to something that is making it so easy to take slavery
rather than freedom.
Closing in from the other side is the goverment that is taking more and more freedoms
Doing shameful things, like taking peoples homes away and givng the land to private compaines
who are huge corporations run by a few people, so they can become more powerful.
Very quiet and very private powerful corporations.
And the masses lose again.
The templates for this process I believe were set up in how the goverment delt with
the nations that lived in this country before they got here.
The native nations of this country.
It took while at first to get the machnery in place, but once it was in full gear, the nations
of this country, were all but completely distroyed.
In order to understand what's going on today, you need to understand what happened with
the american indian.
For many it is just that. And we see it as wrong. We know that what the goverment did to them
was wrong, immoral, indecient, and a disgrace.
To the goverment they weren't human. They were ants on their shoes.
Well, boys and girls, the currant population of the untited states of america are the currant
native nations, and the goverment is helping some of these same peoples who are part
of the american nations of today, do the exact same thing.
And why would the few be so willing to help the goverment who has a history of murder,
distruction, and other hideous acts against humanity?
Because when a power is trying to take control, it is far better on a selfish level to practice
self preservation than to practice justice and honor.
You die for those things.
So rather than die, you exchange your own people for a life that is full of comforts, and food,
and houses, and boats, and any other amenity that you can immagine.
....knowing this breaks my heart, pisses me off, and makes me wonder how long it will be
before the chip they have been trying to put into people to keep track of them will become
law rather than choice as it is now.
America, the home of the free....the land of the brave....good words.
words that remain. But are ignored, and disgarded as easily as one disgards the plastic
lining between a lid and the glass on a mayonaise jar.
We, in a relativly little while will be fighting not to be forgotten, reduced to some few pages
in some history book that means nothing, because it never has a chance to be explored by the
children in school.
Look at the american indian nations, and see yourselves, because that is exactly where
we are going.
Do you like what you see?
This morning, like other mornings similar to this one, I got handed some of the usual mindbender thoughts.
I think there is something about the drive back here that signals the release of these types of thoughts, and they are designed to hit me with the force of a cruse missle.
This mornings' bag of thoughts contained questions.
Here are some of the questions:
If it's impossible to convince anyone of anything then why say anything at all?
And here's another, If a tree falls in the forest how long will it be before it becomes sawdust or dirt?
And yet another, if every step a person takes has many possible choices as to the direction they end up going does it really matter what choice you make?
Then there are these: If you crossed a duck with a chicken would it be more annoying than a chicken can be by itself?
If you stood on a corner of a busy intersection for an hour would anyone know that your there?
Or would you be invisible to people passing by?
If you could understand what animals are talking about when they make the noises they do what would they tell you about the people they see?
What is the most beautiful mold you've ever seen?
If time had the nature of an onion would people throw it out when it went bad or would they eat it before then?
How can you tell if your mutating into something or someone your not sure you really want to become?
If you crossed a mouse with an elephant would it ever come out of hiding?
And if it did and you put it in a room with mirrors would it loose it's mind?
What if you crossed a giraff with a snake would there be a major problem with getting close to one?
Yes...these are some of today's thoughts that hit me on the way home...there are stranger ones than these, and quite a few depressing ones, but I'll leave those in my head.
Today, I know that I'm here. Today I know that there is alot that I don't know. Today I'm trying to figure out what the point is, and today I had some donut holes for breakfast.
The frig is in freezer mode. I've brought the temp to the warmest place I could, did that about 5 days ago, and still everything is frozen.
I wish I knew how to fix it. But I don't. So I have to call the landlord and ask him to send someone to look at it.
Having everything in your frig go frozen is a pain to deal with.
Especially when it comes to milk and butter.
...geeze sometimes I wish I could just wander off somewhere and then when I get far enough away I could see the whole picture...
grinning..the kittens are learning how to be demolition experts.
They haven't broken any glass in knocking things over.
But it's good to see they are well into the process of learning their paws are good for more than just walking on.
Learning how your hands or paws work is a very empowering event...go kitties!!!
Just a few days ago it seems they were barely learning how to walk without falling over.
And just a few days ago it seems that so much was opening up, and now it's just gotten really murky.
I really do wish I could understand why the universe seem intent on throwing me from one place to another...you'd think I was a rubber ball or something.
And who knows, maybe in the big picture that's all I really am.
Either that or a taco...one that never goes beyond the warming lights.
I wish there was a way for someone to get inside my skin and look at what I'm looking at, maybe they could tell me what this ultimately is about, this being knocked back and forth.
Until that happens, I'm going to just advance on the day and see what happens.
My brain is on fire. The ideas, thoughts and other notions are rushing in so fast that I'm writing like crazy.
9 and 10 pages of just notes.
Again and again.
Then there is the art. I counted and there are 53 in process as I write this.
And more on the way.
I'm making notes on the ones that arn't started and making notes on the ones that are that are giving birth to new work.
Several of the threads are being pulled together and leading me back into the realm of sacred geometry.
There are considerations and questions about the three dimensions we live in and the spaceal relationship time has to thoes three dimesions and what would happen if this plane was designed to only hold three dimensions and the introduction of a fourth dimension would throw things out of balance.
Time would do weird things to the three dimensions.
Simply because this plane was not designed to hold anymore than three dimensions.
Which brings up all the phenomon that exists that defies the rules governing the three dimensions and this plane of existance.
Seeing ghosts, hearing them, seeing ufo's. The phenomon of near death experiences.
Black holes in space. I'm beginning to think maybe black holes are the first events that are signaling the collapse of this plane of existance.
I watched cube 2 last night. Kick ass movie. A head bender.
There is a part where this razor cube apears. But it starts out as a square and then begins to grow. Taking on the progression that exists in sacred geometry.
When it got to a certian size it started moving around the room and ran into walls.
One guy got hit by it and it's path of measuring the space it had to grow in and he got chewed up.
Anyway, it kept growing until it reached the the capacity of the room and then the process reversed until the cube disapeared.
The concept was huge and very explainitory as to the possiblities of planes of existance and the space given them to reach their full potential and when it happens, the process reverses until it disapears.
My guess at this point is that when each plane of existance has reached it's full potental growth limit and it reverses and disapears where it goes is back into the void that exists between each plane.
Now being that there are 7 platonic solids ( I think it's 7, it maybe six, I'll have to check) that make up all matter that we know that exists, maybe we are just moving through each one. And each one relating to each platonic solid has rules that govern the life that exists on that plane.
In this plane, three being the dimensions we know and exist in, the same laws state that all life has 4 base pairs to exist.
In the plane that holds the cube as it's bases, maybe all life will consist of more base pairs.
I'm thinking it would, due to the fact that in a 4 dimension existance our bodies would have different requirements to exist there.
Time would be different as well, due to the nature of dealing and interacting with four dimensions instead of three.
Think of the possiblities of a 4 dimensional universeal plane.
What would the stars look like, what would humans look like?
What would people eat, or would they eat at all, maybe they would just stand there and absorb nutreients through gills or somthing.
Maybe our eyes would resemble that of inscets, being mulit factited seeing many surfaces at once.
But because that was the design it would seem completely normal.
People with our eyes might be seen as a freak of nature...
Then this thought occured to me, maybe this whole thing, all existance in every frame of reference that could ever be considered is just one big journey back to where it started.
The center of all things.
Maybe the whole point is for us to experience the universe one dimension at a time.
Maybe somepeople get bits of the next plane of existance now and they think amazing things, and are here as instructors for the rest of us...people like steven hawlkings, carl sagan, albert enstine, lenardo da vinci, and many many others.
People hear and see what they put out there and ponder and think and do based on what these people have said and shown the rest of us.
Maybe in the end that's what it's all about...
It's almost 2:30 in the morning and I just finished working on several peices of art that are in various stages.
I spent 4 1/2 hours working. It didn't seem that long, until my thumb locked up.
I used to spend 16 hours a day going from painting to painting, stopping only briefly, mainly to use the bathroom or fix a cup of tea or eat somthing.
It's frustrating because I would have just kept painting through tomorrow until sleep demanded my attention.
I'm wide awake, but my hands have demanded a rest.
Part of what I did tonight was increase the color and begin some new experimentation with splattering the watercolor in various thickness's to see what would happen as it dried.
I found that white is great for softening the feel of the background.
I'm thinking this one that I did a heavy spray of white will end up being about faires.
Since I started by putting water and some light washes of color down and then it occured to me that spraying color on might be a way to increase...somthing...
I got to a point where I wanted to try doing the same thing that's familiar and it started out fine, but it just didn't feel right.
So, I added more water to blend the color out and it just started going the same way that all the other watercolors start out.
Then as I was looking at the painting, I started thinking make your own way.
Create your own mythology. Crabmen, half-crab half-man.
Only crabmen sounded really stupid.
So I'm playing with a name for it.
Something just occured to me, when I decited to do art, the problem I was having earlier just seemed to subside and then go away.
I didn't notice it until just now.
Another sign post that I'm suppose to do the one thing I know I'm supposed to do?
Everything keeps ending up here. Everything stops here.
But I'm horrible at marketing. I hate the idea that I have to go and smooze with gallery owners and business owners, just to get it out there.
I know I'm suppose to be doing art.
But money...shit..same old crap, over and over.
Ok, enough with the side track. Back to what I got done tonight, before my hand so politely reminded me that I needed to respect my hands and give them rest.
The other backgrounds arn't so defined. I'm wondering if less water and make the paint more consistant with ink. If I use water over that, spray it on, then..that might be what I'm looking for.
Kind of a dream state to start from.
I'm pretty sure that for awhile at least, I'm going to be doing pen overlays.
They will be somewhere between illustrations and paintings.
A rickity bridge between two worlds.
I hope that I can get to the place with the pen overlays where it looks like pencil.
I've been thinking about bits of colored pencil..touches, but if I do, I think it would be best to just stay with white.
I noticed something else, all of the backgrounds that I did over the last two days are primarily blue and red.
Some have yellow as well, but the predominate colors are blue and red.
No green, which strikes me as weird. I love green. Green is like breathing to me.
But I didn't notice the green or draw to it when I was putting color down initally.
I'm sure it has to do with the other things in my life that are going sideways.
Red is passion. All kinds and every kind you can think of.
It's instant. It's in your face.
Blue on the other hand is calm, sad. Emotions. Deep hidden away emotions. Tears. Heartache. Sleep. Prelude to death, prelude to life.
Blue exterior, red interior.
Calm on the outside. Ignited and blazing on the inside.
The water outside. Molent lava inside. The core. Life.
Mermaids. maybe that's what brought on the crabmen..I need another name for that.
It sounds like some bug that is marching on the city and they need to call some superhero to fight them off.
...somthing greek...maybe russian mix...hmmm
their nature? How they came to be.
I also started a second in a series of three works dealing with micology.
I'm not doing the normal forest scape. But I'm wandering around.
And I don't know how their going to end up.
I realized something about 2 am. That I'm still searching for a defined road here. But I know I need to just let go one more time.
Just play, less control when I paint.
Or draw, or do what ever other creative explosion happens.
I'm not sure what I'm doing.
I've been exploring pen over the last almost 8 months.
Everything ends up being so intense.
I love the immages that show up.
The water color have taken a background role in this direction.
their story stills and the pen asorbs it.
I started this on little wood shapes and got to the point where the shape disapeared and all I was aware of was the canvas so to speak in front of me.
I feel like I'm wandering, and nothing fits.
But at least I'm doing art again. And that's all that matters.
At the bottom of everything, it only matters that I'm doing art.
Maybe I should work tord the idea that I don't need to be a master, maybe that would help me find my way.
I know the more I work each day, the finely tuned my feel for the pen will become.
Funny, such an inexpensive tool being used to create art.
I keep telling myself it's just doodling.
Keep it simple and easy.
No thoughts about what anyone thinks.
At first, the choice of ballpoint pen was a private protest against the ideals of tradition.
I wanted to thumb my nose at all the art snobs that think only certian types of work are worthy.
I wanted it to be a statement about simplicity. And making art accessable to everyone.
And making it fun, instead of this big overwhelming thing, you have to go to college for to learn how to do it right.
Make my skin crawl!
Then it changed. I found I loved how clean and crisp I could make lines, and with practice I found that soft shading is possible.
It lost it's protest clothes and became something wonderful.
And what's even better is that I can get ballpoint pens anywhere.
Anyway, I'm now starting to the rest of my body asking for sleep.
I think my brain needs it too.
I'm off to never neverland. I'm going to swim with the mermaids I think...
It would seem that things go in cycles. Beginning, middle, end.
I'm not sure why, but it seems that somethings keep doing the same cycle no matter how many changes take place.
Like a rut in the road that never gets fixed.
This morning started out fine. Somewhere along about 3-3:30 I began to notice something strange.
Things began to swim in my head. Much like the monday before last when things started crashing.
Only today there was nothing to trigger this.
I can feel the surges of what feels like I'm loosing my mind, and then it quiets down again.
I'm bracing myself for what ever is comming.
I wish I knew why this keeps happening. I wish I could stop it from comming and running over me like a huge truck.
Something that seems to accompany the feelings and thoughts are these strange physical things. Like someone is sticking needles in parts of my feet and hands.
Sharp large needles.
When the pain comes like that I have taken to taking over the counter pain medication to try and stop the pain.
Sometimes it works.
I wish I knew why this keeps happening.
I wish I knew where it comes from, and more importantly how to stop it from comming back.
Sometimes when all of this is going on, there is this overwhelming desire to peel off my skin. It drives me nuts.
It would be wonderful if there was a zipper I could just unzip and get out of my skin.
Monday before last isn't the first time that I ended up feeling like I was going mad, it's just the latest episode.
It used to happen alot, and I would claw at my skin just to stop what ever it was.
After everything was quiet again, I would have scratches all over and my feet would be a mess because of how much skin I had removed with my nails.
If this is the tell tale signs of a nervous break down there is nothing I can do to stop it from comming.
I won't go to the hospital and ask them to help me, they will just lock me up somewhere.
And I don't have the money to go to see anyone anyway, so all I can do is ride it out and hope this passes quickly.
Several years ago when this stuff was daily in my life I did go see a doctor, he confered with another doctor and they recomended observation in the phychward.
They gave me medication which didn't help, it didn't touch the fire that my brain was emersed in or quite the nightmears that were so real that I would wake up in a cold sweat, just ended up costing alot of money, and when things didn't work they tried harder to put me away.
My family stepped in and stopped them.
I wonder if I had been put away if they would have ever let me out.
I don't think they would have because I see things, and hear things that turn out to be real.
I don't think it would be a comfort to anyone to let someone who can see things wandering around the streets doing strange things.
I tend to keep that part of me away as much as I can from the world.
I see things that are inside of people, things that they never want anyone to know about.
I'm pretty sure that's why I scare people sometimes.
I can feel my head pounding again. And it feels like someone is trying to push the walls of my skull out.
This reminds me of the dream I had a couple of nights ago.
Everything was completely white. And I was in a long hall with a room in the middle of the hall.
It was open, no doors.
I was standing there and when I turned around there was this man comming tord me, dressed completely in white, the only thing that wasn't covered was his face.
His eyes were like large pupils with no iris, and he was looking at me, through me saying only this: "I'm in your head. I'm in your head, I'm in your head."
The closer he got the faster he moved and the closer he came the more scared I got, and I started running.
He started running after me screaming the same thing over and over, saying nothing else but that.
I woke up and I was shaking and sweating.
It felt like my legs were waking up from being asleep and there were pins and needles all over them and my feet.
It felt like someone was stabbing my feet with needles.
I don't know what all of this means. I don't know anything of why this has all started again.
I don't know what I did.
If I did, I would try to fix it.
Two afternoons ago I was doing somethings, and suddenly I was overcome by the need to sleep.
I laid down and somewhere in the next 4 hours I had a dream that was really strange.
I found myself in a village that was up in the mountians somewhere, and the houses were built off the ground on high stilts.
The first person I saw in the dream was this man who was dressed in the same kind of coveralls that a mechanic wears.
Although he looked normal, there was something about his eyes.
They were this stange clear blue color, almost void of being human.
He started walking tord me, and smiled. I wasn't scared because there was nothing about this man that seemed scary.
Then out of the blue he jumped on me and started to stangle me.
I was fighting for my life. This other man, a full blood indian, I'm pretty sure it was a medicine man came up behind him and pulled him off me. Then the man in coveralls just vanished.
The indian looked and me, helped me up and said that I needed to come quickly with him.
I noticed his eyes too, they were a clear deep blue, like the sky on a perfect summer day.
I followed as quickly as I could, which was difficult because the floor of the building had spaces between the boards which dropped off into nothingness below me.
As I followed him he spoke to me and told me that I was invited to go through the rituals that the warriors go through, the testings and trials.
It seemed strange because I knew women were never asked to go through the rituals.
Suddenly there were native americans from every tribe that ever existed in this country everywhere.
I noticed everyone's eyes. Different shades of blue. Some happy, some sad, and some with a very far away look about them.
It was like being in a traffic jam with no cars.
I was following the man who saved my life and all of a sudden I kept seeing kevin's face and he was trying to tell me something but I couldn't hear him.
He vanished into the crowd.
The next thing I knew I was standing in a lodge where the first test was to take place.
It was so cold in the building.
The test was made up of a series of short down hill ski jump ramps.
At the bottom there was a long metal pole with a silver ball at the top.
The skis were just longer than my feet, and the idea was to start at the top and then go down the first one and land on the second and so on.
If it was done properly the last one would propell you up the pole and you would grab the silver ball at the top.
I watched on person do it and when they grabbed the ball they were held there frozen for a little while and then they vanished.
It seemed to a door way. As there was no way to get down from the pole and no doors at that end leading out of the building or stairs leading back up to where I was standing.
And under each of the ramps and the pole there was nothing.
It was like what was under the building I started in.
I went to the room where you get dressed in the body suit to do the test and I saw kevin outside.
He was trying to get me to come to him.
I ran outside and there were all these people, and he had vanished.
I wanted to let him know I was going to do the tests and then I woke up.
When I did, there was this friend of ours sitting on the stairs, presumably waiting for me to wake up.
He seemed to want to talk to me about some things.
I could tell by the way his eyes looked when we sat down at the kitchen table.
He didn't say much, but I could see how exausted and troubled he was.
It was almost like he was on the verge of breaking down.
I never really found out what was troubling him, but it felt and looked like he was being pulled and stretched and it was more than he could take.
he stayed for a while and then left
it seems something is goofy with the computer keys
i need to check it out
will finish this later
Cow shit, bull shit, horse shit...any kind of shit, including family shit is just that, waste products that can be turned into dirt.
It's the bottom line alot of time.
And what do I owe this view of things to? A letter, another one of those in which I get reminded, repremanded by someone simply because I didn't get all excited over what they want to do for me in some distant future time, and was honest enough to tell them that I've heard so many people say so many things, some well intentioned, and some things said are a result of an emotional moment.
(soft and fuzzy makes me dizzy and want to go all gooie)
When people say things to me, about what I should or shouldn't do, or what they will do, I take it as it is.
Realizing that 90% of what is said is in that moment.
And for me to put emotional weights and hopes on what's said and to get exicted and try to build a building on that is stupid.
It's like building a mansion on the top of a volcano. It's stupid.
I've spent far too much on believing and counting on what someone said, only to have it be nothing in the end, with me having put lots of time and energy tord it, not to come away with this:
That until I hold it, touch it, can actually put it in the bank, there ain't no sense in spending what I have foolishly.
Because until I hold it, touch it and can actually put it in the bank, it's just a nice thought, and my closets are full of nice thoughts and good intentions from well meaning people who arn't standing in my shoes.
One of the things I love about this place and the peace and acceptance of this place is that when I get slammed into the wall I can come and just let go, and no one takes offense or believes that they need to fix me.
Or even remind me that this is the real world and shit happens and maybe my pile of shit is due to the choices I've made so in effect I'm paying the price for doing what I did, and by golly if I have to pay this price for the rest of my life that's just too darn bad.
FUCK THAT SHITTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Ahhhh, now that that emotional explosive burst of frustration is out of the way, and I can eat my milk and cookies more quietly, I have this to say:
That when things go wrong I'm just as human as the next person.
That sometimes when everything is falling apart that makes the work I've invested seem a moot point, it really is ok to feel like shit.
It's ok to have feelings.
It really really is. It's a lot better than what I used to do when the world came to sit on my head and try and break my back.
I used to respond by eating, or washing my hands, or shopping like it wasn't going to be here 5 minuets from now.
Sometimes when it feels like I'm being punished for even trying, and my life is doomed to have diamond studded carrots possitioned over very deep holes just to watch me go for it one more time, that it's ok to want someone just to be there.
To pass no judgement, or try to remind me of things I know and accept, but just allow me to stop sofocating and feel bad for a little while.
I get the impression based on why people show up in my life or call or anything else, is that it's my job, based again on conversations that happen, and I do have witnesses to this process, so I know it not just me saying this, to listen and listen and listen, like some large depository for their crap.
BUT!!!!!!!!!!!! if I go to those same people when I need just a bit of support, I'm told all kinds of manner of shit, that I'm having a pitty party, that because I've shot down their promise balloons that I'm suppose to get all excited and drool over and build my fucking life around and don't, that they have every fucking right to roast me over the fucking coals.
Give me a fucking break!
I'm strong. I know that. I know the real world kicks people around, sometimes a little bit, sometimes alot and then it feels like life got a dump truck to run you over with.
And it really dosen't matter what my cracked mirror looks like when I see it, or that the conclusions I come to maybe based on repeated experiences that end the same way again and again.
All that matters sometimes when all you can feel is pain and bewilderment is someone to step along side you and just be there.
And it would seem that I can't get this one person who responds every time I talk to them when things go sideways in my life, to understand that all I need, all I want is for them to just be there.
They expect it of me all the time.
Our phone conversations consist mostly of me going uh huh. I do have witnesses.
They call and go on and on and on about all this or that, and I just sit on this on going uh huh.
First, there is no space made in the conversation for me to say any more than that, and secondly, I have nothing to say because I don't live in their shoes.
I've gotten to the place where trying to prove points just to prove points is exausting.
I'm of a mind that doing that is more about the need to be right than anything else.
I've found myself in an on going debate, that I didn't realize it had become, and I don't want to debate, I don't want to argue, I'm tired.
This person who wrote me this letter has a need to be right.
It's a relative so please no body here get the wrong idea ok...
should have stated that right off, but I'm saying it now.
They will push and manipulate as much as they can until out of sheer exaustion from their constant pushing that people will agree to do what they want.
I was real honest with them when they called after I made the mistake of writing a letter to them about what I was feeling.
What I said offened them. That I would have the nerve to put them in the same catagory as everyone who has said things to me but never followed through, so I've taken the stance that I don't trust what people say, it's what they do that tells me the truth about their intentions.
That goes the same all across the board including me.
And this offended them. And sure as black clouds have rain in mind, the letter came.
They could have their say, and basicly get in my face and tell me I needed to stop throwing tanturms and having pitty parites and this is the real world and welcome to it....
Deep sigh...It did help me come to one conclusion, that from now on I will write when things get like that, in some obscure place like word pad, or here in some vague way, and call it good.
There is no sense in expecting this person to understand when I just need someone to steady myself when I'm standing in 90 mile an hour winds.
They don't. They just need to be right. Even if that means that they need to bite me in the process...
But that too is life sometimes. Shit happens.
That's all,...it just sometimes happens.