Posts Tagged ‘people’

Gosh I don’t even know where to start. How we always have to find the problem even, or especially, when there is none. I don’t quite understand. I only understand that I do not understand. And while one can envision a sense of closure and enlightenment, I mean we’re asked to do more than simply lay, stand, or sit (maybe even levitate) in a blissful, satiated state. Passivity, we call it. The consumption of nothing but clear air and an unmistakably imperfect mind and nature, however we can be so forgiving as to awaken into a blank slate.


But for what? What is life? Well we know it is but we aren’t sure why. I suppose it’s not required of us to answer, but I think something in us strives to understand. And the hippos and songbirds do not ask such things. It’s like they know what to do and they stick to it. Why bother moving beyond? Well there’s not even a beyond to surpass. There’s simply going about the day. What we see as another person falling by the wayside is like that hippo moving day by day, serenely, immersing itself in the clear but somewhat murky waters below, resting, and leaping out and exercising not the freedom but action to impose its gaping maw to the bright, crystal rays of sunshine. Purpose? There is none but there still is something. Something we take for granted, or often do. It simply exists. Silence. “It.” The thing that is there and I believe we all very much understand. That which, by the plight, fear, and greed of the world sort of distracts us from. I find myself trying to find myself so many days, cycles, and maybe even lifetimes. Trying to get there. But there is no beyond, really. And I know that but part of me doesn’t buy it.

The boy in the dream was me, in the plane’s wooden cabin, lounging with Freud himself, or perhaps it was Weber. And we came to, and we looked out and saw below us grand waterfalls, fountains that did not fall off of high cliffs. And we saw clocks every which way, scattered and seemingly hung over the hard rocks like walls. And we could hear the sentimental ticking, and the sounds of water diving into itself, we could see the glimmering glitter wakes and the elegant foam in the sunlight. All in the airplane.


And how in my own waking life, I am the boy in the grassy park, who looks above so often, a witness to the steady, determined wings, the pale belly of the bird that glides through so quickly. And I know the boy in the dream is in there, trying to find me, and how I move around and the red blinking dots on his surreal pocket map, they tend to bounce around and frustrate him And I look up into the deep light blue sky. And I say to myself:


“That boy, he is going somewhere, but where? Where is he going?”

and I hear a voice, perhaps God’s, the other boy’s or just something else tell me:

“Forget about where he is going. Where is he now? He is moving. That is where he is, what he is.  He moves, in flight, as motion through the planes of space and time, in his own plane of space and time. Going nowhere but so very THERE, you see?”


I just don’t know what to do with all of this. I just hope you can understand.




Feel Kind of Anxious

Posted: September 29, 2011 in Uncategorized
Tags: , , ,

Not sure exactly why, but it feels kind of scary sometimes. I just don’t like groups most of the time. I don’t know what it is. Even in my class on Race and Labor, where everyone is ‘diverse’ I still feel like I don’t belong there and it kind of feels like groups always overshadow me; you can feel it happen psychologically and then physiologically.

My brain is too plastic and vulnerable; one day you’re in a group where everyone’s laughing and happy, the next you are in one that feels sort of murky. I like people, but not when there’s a sense of pride in the air, or of judgement. Sometimes you feel judgement even when there is none and that kind of intimidates me; you feel like the whole group is out to get you or something.

At my school, a lot of girls are very pretty. Everything is a symbol of something else and vice versa. Pretty girls are symbolic of a lot of emotions and memories that I contain in my mind, and I have realized seeing them creates some kind of reminder or something, that kind of makes me feel afraid. I can’t really explain it; maybe it’s one of those things that your mind creates that you eventually fall victim to yourself, and can’t seem to get out of it. As if you locked yourself in a dungeon and hid the key inside, but can’t remember where you put it, and have searched and searched with no avail.

Sometimes I think of my fear or fears and wonder whether it has a positive function for my life and to then just keep it there, as if it was meant to be this way. Other times it hurts and feels sad for things to be this way. It really does, and I have no idea how to change fear. Fear is one of the greatest themes of my life, as well as respect, and resistance, trust, pain, and growing. I believe these things are the pillars, or foundation in living a good enough life, or building a good ‘personhood,’ whatever that means.

People my age scare me sometimes, and I think it’s because of the kids at my earlier school and how mean they were. I feel like part of it was my fault though. In retrospect, the thing that was done -either by them or myself- most negatively impacting was that of exclusion. Excluding someone is one of the worst things you can do to someone else, or one of the worst things that can be done to you. We kind of forget that when we focus on the teasing, or the pinching. But if you felt like you belonged to at least SOME group, then at least you have that group. I feel I had no one, or nothing. But I wasn’t bullied that much. I could tolerate it because school was amusing enough.

And so nowadays, finding a group remains virtually impossible because the dynamics of a group my age, I feel, will be influenced by my experiences as a kid. And I don’t really know how to get over it; I’m not sure if anyone really does. I just want to feel happy enough to have no complaints or judgements of the people I have these feelings about. Feelings as in the feeling you get where people may be looming over you ready to strike like a snake. It can be scary and thus I tend to avoid these situations; I don’t even want to talk to someone on the phone, because I think they’re just going to reject me. I consider myself a fragmented person, but not broken. Of course I like, or even LOVE people, it’s just I feel I have no place with most of them. Sure you talk to one for a while here and there, but you never feel you’re there WITH them. It always feels like when I talk to people we’re teaching each other something.

Relationships are weird and complicated things because individuals are. We don’t entirely realize who WE are, let alone someone else. Many of us don’t make much sense both in our content of speech or our actions, myself included. We tend to want other people to define us by the treatment they give us, which we don’t necessarily admit to, but feels like it’s the truth. A lot of girls feel like shit because someone treated them like it, and thus they believed it to be true, and long to preserve this false but nevertheless ‘there’ reality they’ve somewhow managed to endure for so long.

I say it’s very important to define yourself, because it’s challenging and rewarding, and can make you a stronger person. It is also important to be as strong as you can be; not PHYSICALLY, but psychologically, emotionally, and most important, SPIRITUALLY. This is the hardest thing to possibly ever do. I am not where I want to be, but I know where I want to be, and that is a good start because it keeps you more or less on track. I don’t want to steal and I don’t want to be in trouble with the law or my family. I don’t really care too much about any peer groups: I feel at this point I’m used to so many people, everyone really, coming and going. God has been the only one to have been there for me throughout my ups and downs. And so I need to make things work better and try harder in school academically. Not socially, but academically. Not socially, but academically. Do all of your readings, John.

People are so weird… why are they so weird???