Writing about my personal life and publishing my discoveries for the world to see, I am alright with, most of the time. Self-perception levels influence how I react to a post I’ve written. Sometimes I write, and after I post, I have to run through and cut all the negative rhetoric. Oddly, as I am writing, I don’t feel negative right now for some reason. This is odd because I can’t figure out why. Maybe the shackles get tiring. It’s a trick though, because I notice that after I get going, the negative thoughts just start to materialize. The self-conscious part about writing personal is realizing the impact I feel when I realize someone is reading. Like a rush of urgency, I lay down and think, “oh my god, is someone reading THAT, good lord what will they think…” I guess there’s no smoke without fire.
The point of view by which I look at each moment influences how I perceive what is going on with me. This is all based on how I’ve interacted with individuals during the day. Was I mean? Was I stupid? Am I acceptable? Am I safe to be around? If I think I was mean, I start to feel ashamed. If I think I felt stupid, then I grit my teeth and try to figure out if there is something truly wrong with me. If I was somehow unacceptable, then I ponder on resentments and I start to feel vindictive. Sometimes the committee pounds my thinking so much that I begin to wonder how I stay afloat. Of course this all dissipates when young smiling children passing out flyers toss them into my car as I’m driving by, and I think about how ridiculous my tendency to overreact is. How is it that children can put the world of adults into such perspective sometimes?
I have diary I keep of things even more personal than this. The words really flow over there, and I have to imagine, would someone ever read that stuff? Living these types of lives based on change and baggage is something else. What if I died! How could I cruise the astral afterworld knowing someone read about the time I got a wedgie, or worse and more serious, how I truly feel about some people I’m not supposed to. Yikes. Can I help my feelings? What about forgiveness? Is forgiveness a double sided piece of tape? I want to be forgiving, and I realize I should not expect to be forgiven, but I am tempted to delete some of that stuff.
Doesn’t matter anyways because it’s all closing in. The walls are all crumbling down. The end is coming, my only friend. I will be forced to take on a dog and move to the riverside. Life and its cruel way will deliver its blows, but I will have my dog. Cardboard and ink markers, here I come. WILL TUTOR AUSTEN FOR FOOD.
And as long as there are computers in libraries, I will at least be able to blog. That’s something to live for. I remember trying to figure out, “how did I get so fucked again?” And I ponder on the step-parents. They both joined the U.S. Government at the age of 18, and their entire lives were panned out, laid smoothly before them with ease. Here I have to wonder, would I want what I have now, the disabled unemployed no family having man I am, or a life plotted with marriage to someone I couldn’t stand with alcoholism and abuse flying off the charts. I guess no one has it made, but at least they had money.
This post is subject to editing, clearly, since I failed the positivist test. I think my tendency to overreact is in line with my lack of patience, but really, these are all just words for a blog post. I am finding that my neighbors and I have formed some fairly close relationships. I found it odd after having taken Italian to find they are from Italy and speak Italian in their back porch all the time. They are moving away, and they actually took the time out to tell me, so obviously my self-perception is skewed. I have been very good about quitting caffeine, even though I had Pepsi a few times, which was horrid and bloating. I just persevere and continue. I don’t give up easily, and that’s part of the way it is around here. My counselors push and my teachers inspire, so I have some really good things to be thankful for. I just have to walk the tight rope until I’ve gotten settled, and when I feel like unloading a complete blast of overreaction, I just have to remember, phasers on stun, there’s no need to blow everything to pieces.