I really don't like the fact that this is the thesis statement to this situation right now. I would rather Kirk get better or me get better (or both) than for Kirk to just disappear. Below I chose to work out my annoyance, in the moment, with words. Kirk is the husband of my mother and the father to one of my brothers.
-----
Why it's so much better when Kirk is not here.
Noise Distraction
The TV is not on all the time. In fact, it's rarely on.
All of kirk's loud beeps and email alert sounds and mobile games noises are gone.
Nobody is constantly walking in and out of the front door, totally distracting and fucking up the energy. I started writing this noise section when he walked out the door, and he just walked back in.
No noise from the ice machine in the fridge.
No beeps from the fridge.
Nobody downstairs constantly talking to the goddamn cats.
He just walked out the door again. All of the above happened since he walked in.
Nobody on long conference calls on speakerphone with no regard for the rest of the house (won't keep the conversation inside his downstairs office).
Nobody bringing their work into the living room, where the whole house can hear it.
Nobody drunk grumbling under their voice about how stupid everyone in the house is.
No tension
Nobody whose natural state is "asshole".
No Bad energy
No addicts --a beep on his goddamn phone just now-- in the house. Alcohol, cigarettes, television, distractions.
Nobody who's going to tell you you're wrong, even though they've already tried a million times. And some of those issues, you actually agree with, but they still wanna shove their opinion about it down your throat anyways. No escape. And it's about the same 6 topics every time.
I can't get any work done in this house because of Kirk. He just came back from a three day work trip, and it was the most productive, peaceful time my mother, my brother, and I have had while I've been living here. I had no idea just how much this one boorish alpha male douchebag was destroying my productivity and the progress I'm trying to make in my life. It's no wonder I never feel like I'm getting anything done. My desk and bed are in a large landing area upstairs where I can hear everything going on downstairs unless it's in the downstairs bedroom. And when I say everything, I mean whispers, too.
--he just walked in again--
Honestly, what the fuck?
Why do people live their lives this way?
--beep, crack-crack-crack (fridge and ice)--
--door, he just walked out again--
Every night I am tempted to just go downstairs and lock the door behind him. But even then, if I wasn't distracted by the pressure and guilt, I'm sure there would be plenty of loud noise on the other side of that door, phones ringing, and fights to be hashed.
(3 min of no typing, no distractions, just thinking)
The same situation happened to me when I was living with my father in New Braunfels. The sort of "last straw" where I felt like it was absolutely essential that I get my own place asap, by any means, was the fact that my environment there was so distracting that I couldn't get anything done. My father has a similar ailment, but I think the reasons for my distraction were different. He was distracting, but not nearly as often as Kirk. The quarters were smaller and I was sharing a bedroom/office with my father AND high school brother (from another mother). I could've easily judged that book by it's cover, but I didn't.
Which brings me to my point. Somehow I feel like both situations have been my responsibility. --beep from a phone, how poetic-- Most of the time the godforsaken devices beep when he's not even in the house! I don't even want to know when he's in the house or not! I don't want to keep track of that! But I feel like I have no choice.
Anyways, my responsibility. It's my reality, I'm the one getting distracted, I'm the one with the ambition in this house. I've never been great at tuning things out, but there's gotta be a way to focus in spite of these distractions. I know within me that I have the ability to pursue my dreams no matter what is going on around me. Because everything I need is in me. Honestly, how could I let a few sounds throw me off so much? It seems like they shouldn't have that much power.
Sure, I've been developing my second chakra and it's making me very empathetic, but I should be able to control that, too. I believe I can. I've got to be able to --BLEEP (another device)-- not let someone else's prison imprison me. It honestly doesn't seem like it would be that hard when I think about it. It's kinda ridiculous. I mean how would I ever work in a group or office with other people if I'm so easily distracted. I think I'm more distracted by egotistically clueless people because I'm so opposite of that, and I have such hatred for that level of dishonesty. I just wanna destroy that ego so bad! It's like I pimple, I just wanna pop it. But you can't go around jamming your fingers into self-conscious people's faces screaming, "Jailbreak!"
So I forgive myself for being so fixated on some egos and distracted perhaps energetically by someone's personal prison. I love me for being so about truth and honesty that dishonest egos stick out like a faded pink Mitsubishi.
--just walked back in, fridge, crack, and lets bang the fuck out of everything while we make a snack for ourselves--
(Wrote some stuff on facebook celebrating my acceptance into an art show (https://www.facebook.com/events/1435820823392739/))
--Kirk has walked in and out 3 times, is now inside, now garage door is closing, can't take off his flipflops at the door so now I have to hear his every footstep, whispers to cats, bangs shit around, I assume he's going to bed--
(more fb)
--beep-le-beep--
OK, finishing this up. I am in control of this. I am balanced--well, capable of balancing--against a storm of opposition so long as I pursue truth and life in full faith and love. I will endure. I will be alive. I will succeed no matter what.
And I will own a 1967 Ferrari 250 GTO someday.
Showing posts with label rants. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rants. Show all posts
Saturday, May 30, 2015
Thursday, February 19, 2015
A Rhapsody About the Pursuit of Truth
Wrote this last year in the middle of a bunch of stuff.
Don't know what I would do if it weren't for the life.
Lighting the way, one step at a time.
To the secret places, right before everyone's eyes.
You pass them every day,
and use them on your way, never knowing the very ground
on which your life is laid.
You see, but do you observe?
The secret passages are curious, tempting, addictive.
Exploring rabbit holes to infinity,
discovering creativity.
Can you find your way back
when all you see is black?
Do you know this space?
Is something on your face?
Your friends can't come to your quiet place.
Thinking "shortcuts in the underbelly", but the truth is in the feeling.
Just beneath the surface,
everything's inertial.
You see the light,
but nothing is right.
Next time you come, it'll be night.
Back on the surface you can hardly stand it.
This dude and that noose walking all over what was commanded.
You're not on the surface,
you're still swimming in subversion.
You'll never be the same,
you've seen from where it all came.
You'll carry it with you wherever you move.
The depth in your eyes is something too soon for the moos that presume they are made to be food.
You've exhumed the roots and brought them with you.
See, everything's fine as long as they continue to work for a dime, sell all their time,
and pretend that the momentary thrill of a shrill fake other life is the bottom line.
They'll see your tricks and thoughts
and be moved with emotion,
but when a change needs to be made,
it might as well be an explosion.
"It's about to collapse!",
but they clap at the calamity befalling your hat,
while the underbelly moves and shifts.
Things start to crumble,
the people stumble,
the humble fumble
and bumble their way.
Death, loss, might as well be moss.
They throw you on the pavement and tell you it's your fault,
"We told you not to go".
And it's all you can do not to slit their fucking throats.
If it weren't for you they would have never been warned,
and they have no idea what you've been doing to keep their families warm.
You've been doing a job no one wanted to do,
facing things alone you should've never gone through.
A part of you loved it, loved every minute,
but the world's on your shoulders when you're down in the pit.
You're in the most dangerous spot,
but it's nothing compared to being called what you're not.
You are right in the middle of everything, in a place nobody will ever be able to find. Not for those who see, but for those who observe. Not just for those who observe, but for those who explore. And not just those who explore, but those who discover.
Don't know what I would do if it weren't for the life.
Lighting the way, one step at a time.
To the secret places, right before everyone's eyes.
You pass them every day,
and use them on your way, never knowing the very ground
on which your life is laid.
You see, but do you observe?
The secret passages are curious, tempting, addictive.
Exploring rabbit holes to infinity,
discovering creativity.
Can you find your way back
when all you see is black?
Do you know this space?
Is something on your face?
Your friends can't come to your quiet place.
Thinking "shortcuts in the underbelly", but the truth is in the feeling.
Just beneath the surface,
everything's inertial.
You see the light,
but nothing is right.
Next time you come, it'll be night.
Back on the surface you can hardly stand it.
This dude and that noose walking all over what was commanded.
You're not on the surface,
you're still swimming in subversion.
You'll never be the same,
you've seen from where it all came.
You'll carry it with you wherever you move.
The depth in your eyes is something too soon for the moos that presume they are made to be food.
You've exhumed the roots and brought them with you.
See, everything's fine as long as they continue to work for a dime, sell all their time,
and pretend that the momentary thrill of a shrill fake other life is the bottom line.
They'll see your tricks and thoughts
and be moved with emotion,
but when a change needs to be made,
it might as well be an explosion.
"It's about to collapse!",
but they clap at the calamity befalling your hat,
while the underbelly moves and shifts.
Things start to crumble,
the people stumble,
the humble fumble
and bumble their way.
Death, loss, might as well be moss.
They throw you on the pavement and tell you it's your fault,
"We told you not to go".
And it's all you can do not to slit their fucking throats.
If it weren't for you they would have never been warned,
and they have no idea what you've been doing to keep their families warm.
You've been doing a job no one wanted to do,
facing things alone you should've never gone through.
A part of you loved it, loved every minute,
but the world's on your shoulders when you're down in the pit.
You're in the most dangerous spot,
but it's nothing compared to being called what you're not.
You are right in the middle of everything, in a place nobody will ever be able to find. Not for those who see, but for those who observe. Not just for those who observe, but for those who explore. And not just those who explore, but those who discover.
Monday, January 12, 2015
Sexodus Prequel: Hate + Hate = Hate; My Rant
http://www.buzzfeed.com/rossalynwarren/this-is-what-happens-when-women-actually-accept-a-compliment#.vd209Ox1YN
Women: do not let this catch on. Share and squelch this now amongst each other, because it's only going to make things worse. I'm preparing a lot of shit on this topic for my blog, but this needs to be responded to now.
This is exactly the kind of religious dogmatic crap that I'm talking about. Right now the female culture seems to be clinging to an ideology of hating men to validate themselves, and I'm going to show you how this experiment proves it.
In short, this was not an experiment. It was a lashing out and a fighting back, goading their opponent into saying something mean so that they can validate their hate.
Social experiments are great. They can be very informative--I do them. But if you're going to approach something scientifically, you do it to give benefit of the doubt. You do it because you're trying to fairly see if there's an exception to the rule that you've come to accept. If you can't find the exception, your argument is strengthened. If you can, then you've discovered a flaw in your rule. Either way is a win because experiments get you closer to the truth. A real experiment is done in the spirit of the truth, with no other motive but to pursue the truth.
Now, without reading this article, you tell me what the fuck you think "accepting a compliment" means. I tell you you're pretty. You accept the compliment. What are your words?
Because I'm going to bet that your words are, "thank you". That's what a person who's not trying to start a fight says. It is a socially established way of accepting a compliment.
But that's not what these girls said. Instead of accepting a compliment, they agreed with the compliment in a sarcastic way, but sold it as acceptance. Their answer was "yes". And they weren't joking. Totally different message.
Now if they had thanked AND agreed, that's different. "Thanks, yeah I'm very fortunate" or "Thanks, I like my eyes too". No problem. Perfectly polite and normal, and it invites a conversation.
But they weren't interested in conversations. They were interested in proving that guys that give you compliments are just assholes. (I mean right there, isn't that about as religiously--ridiculously--dogmatic as a pile of shit could be?) Nope, they wanted to feel better about rejecting men they weren't interested in.
But instead of owning up to the TRUTH and taking responsibility for their feelings by maybe saying "thanks but I'm not interested", they'd rather just talk back like a spoiled twelve-year-old.
I am so fucking sick of people giving women credit for being the "community glue". Not in this country. Not in this culture. If aliens were to look at our situation objectively, trying to figure out which sex was trying to bring the world together more in this instance, I'm pretty sure they'd be looking at the sex who's initiating contact and pursuing the other one with nice things to say. And I really don't fucking think they'd blame the first for getting upset if the second responds with an egotistical sarcastic message.
And do you really fucking think that responding with hate will help the issue of hate that you're trying to resolve? Or, like this chick, are you really just interested in saying "fuck you" to any man who puts you in a situation you're to dishonest and immature to deal with?
http://thetruthiswithyou.blogspot.com/
Women: do not let this catch on. Share and squelch this now amongst each other, because it's only going to make things worse. I'm preparing a lot of shit on this topic for my blog, but this needs to be responded to now.
This is exactly the kind of religious dogmatic crap that I'm talking about. Right now the female culture seems to be clinging to an ideology of hating men to validate themselves, and I'm going to show you how this experiment proves it.
In short, this was not an experiment. It was a lashing out and a fighting back, goading their opponent into saying something mean so that they can validate their hate.
Social experiments are great. They can be very informative--I do them. But if you're going to approach something scientifically, you do it to give benefit of the doubt. You do it because you're trying to fairly see if there's an exception to the rule that you've come to accept. If you can't find the exception, your argument is strengthened. If you can, then you've discovered a flaw in your rule. Either way is a win because experiments get you closer to the truth. A real experiment is done in the spirit of the truth, with no other motive but to pursue the truth.
Now, without reading this article, you tell me what the fuck you think "accepting a compliment" means. I tell you you're pretty. You accept the compliment. What are your words?
Because I'm going to bet that your words are, "thank you". That's what a person who's not trying to start a fight says. It is a socially established way of accepting a compliment.
But that's not what these girls said. Instead of accepting a compliment, they agreed with the compliment in a sarcastic way, but sold it as acceptance. Their answer was "yes". And they weren't joking. Totally different message.
Now if they had thanked AND agreed, that's different. "Thanks, yeah I'm very fortunate" or "Thanks, I like my eyes too". No problem. Perfectly polite and normal, and it invites a conversation.
But they weren't interested in conversations. They were interested in proving that guys that give you compliments are just assholes. (I mean right there, isn't that about as religiously--ridiculously--dogmatic as a pile of shit could be?) Nope, they wanted to feel better about rejecting men they weren't interested in.
But instead of owning up to the TRUTH and taking responsibility for their feelings by maybe saying "thanks but I'm not interested", they'd rather just talk back like a spoiled twelve-year-old.
I am so fucking sick of people giving women credit for being the "community glue". Not in this country. Not in this culture. If aliens were to look at our situation objectively, trying to figure out which sex was trying to bring the world together more in this instance, I'm pretty sure they'd be looking at the sex who's initiating contact and pursuing the other one with nice things to say. And I really don't fucking think they'd blame the first for getting upset if the second responds with an egotistical sarcastic message.
And do you really fucking think that responding with hate will help the issue of hate that you're trying to resolve? Or, like this chick, are you really just interested in saying "fuck you" to any man who puts you in a situation you're to dishonest and immature to deal with?
http://thetruthiswithyou.blogspot.com/
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