I never thought of myself as a competitive person because I saw how much more competitive many others were than me. I never cared to win much at sports or other “see who is best” events. Maybe it was because the effects of losing didn’t last long or I’d just rather not dive to the ground just to keep a ball in the air. Regardless, I did engaged in my own competitions from time to time, but they weren’t always so sportly structured.
Often my rivals were simply my friends in school. We were all trying our best to get good grades and we were all in the same boat when it came to intelligence, so it was often a close call. I only had to win by a few inches, not cram for a whole mile.
Other rivals were family members of a similar age vying for attention or adoration from the adults, which we were never actually starved for.
These competitions were constant throughout childhood. As I got older and became aware of these behaviors, I realized that the scars I was accumulating and causing were not longer a result of healthy competition. It was down right mean.
Though all of this I always thought of myself as a nice person. I was at heart a people pleaser to the point where I put other people’s wants above my own. But I wasn’t fully a nice person. I inflicted social pain on others when they didn’t even know there was a competition. I felt triumphant when I finally felt better than a specific person.
Then I looked back and realized that they were just being themselves, reacting to the world, looking for a friend. Here I was jealous of their natural advantages, needing to prove myself when my friend just stood there defeated by my behavior.
Its been over 10 years since I had this realization. I’ve since made new friends who were so beyond my own situation in life that I felt no need to compete. We are simply not comparable because we play life in completely different arenas with completely different rules. We can simply talk about life and try to understand each other without one-upping.
I still encounter my old rivals, often with compassion and guilt over having “beat” them when they were already too far down to fight. Others, I just avoid, having never settled the score.
Commitment is one of those states of being that you are only aware of when it accompanies feeling stuck. I don’t have a choice, this world will take away some big things I care about if I don’t conform. No, I wouldn’t lose it all I would just trade one set of problems (slave to the system) for another (being homeless and poor). Luckily I am smart and have a more comfortable stuck-state than many people, but still the cloud looms over me at times.
The bright side isn’t in some foreign country or with a different group of friends. I’ve been there and I’ve met them. I am still me no matter where I go or what I do. I should be grateful for that fact that I have had the opportunity to encounter myself in such a vast variety of existence, but I feel a sense of normalcy about it because it is my life and it was me doing what made the most sense at the time.
So I’m finally here. At that place where there is nothing to discover in my favorite things. I have no choice but to live for the small excitements. The little pieces I hadn’t noticed before. The personalities I previously overlooked. The benefits of ongoing love and attachments lingering down the same streets as usual.
I’ve been in a place similar to this many times when my dreams abandoned me because I accomplished them. I asked similar questions like, “have I not aimed high enough?” “Could I have done more?” The answers are never clear. All I can do is make new dreams from the drive left over from the old dreams. That means mapping out a road leading me right back where I am now. All that work and emotion focusing on what I don’t have to get me what I want, only to get it and be right back here feeling empty.
But the goals are forming, soon they will be full fledged dreams pumping my heart so I can run in these circles all because the sun keeps rising and I enjoy my days to have a standard of comfort. Off to work I go, I may as well rise through it…
Ideas are worth their weight in gold. Literally.. how much is gold worth at the moment and how much do ideas weight? I have many ideas but some find their way into my soul as concrete. Those who pull through the chaos of the mind have value. Like offspring in a civil war, they chose the winning side in order to tell their history. That effort and forbearance has no tangible value as of yet. If they had the valor to peak through and transmute themselves into a tangible item of this world, then I have no choice but to let them run their lives as they see fit. Many of them are in infantile stages despite the potential density of their auras. They live and breathe and gain strength through me. Just because they can not yet speak for themselves is no cause to cut them off and dismiss them to anyone who sees their worth only as an alternative. They need to live a life as functional as possible. Do no look down upon the late bloomers. They are more the source of out knowledge than any other. They’ve lived and absorbed what is alive. Their time will come. If they choose me as their benefactor, then I can assume no great cause but to bring them to proper fruition.
My passion in life is to be a lazy house mouse. One who cooks, cleans, sews, and helps everyone else in the house get done what they need to get done. There are plenty of reasons for my realization of this passion. Here are a few:
- I genuinely disliked 80% of the 15 jobs I’ve held since high school
- I genuinely disliked 99.9% of the people I’ve encountered in my life.
- I love being in a house all day
- I enjoy sprucing things up
- Household deadlines (like Christmas, birthday parties, and making dinner) don’t stress me out much at all
- I can wear whatever clothing I feel like wearing
- I don’t have to think about what I look like
- Dressing up is rare and fun
- I eat healthier food at home than in restaurants
- I do work solely for people I actually care about
The list could probably keep going on and on, but the main point comes down to proximity. There are no beds to relax on in an office. Whereas in a house, I can choose a variety of different rooms and outdoor spaces to make myself comfortable in while I get my work done.
Being a House Mouse shouldn’t be confused with being a House Wife. No, no, no. A House Mouse earns a living separate from anyone else in the house whereas a House Wife is a slave (once removed) to the husband’s place of employment. For example, if a Husband only gets two weeks of vacation per year, the wife most likely only goes on vacation two weeks in that year as well. Whereas a House Mouse is free to take as much vacation as her House Mousing allows.
All around us are physical paths and roads leading to somewhere. It seems logical that unphysical paths indeed will lead somewhere as well. But as we climb through this metaphysical jungle gym, we often end up right back where we started with nothing to show for it except a few months of being lost in thinking about the differences between all the jungle gyms we encountered on our quest. Yes the world is fascinating, but fascination wasn’t the only place I was navigating towards.
My experience causes me to think that when one is already on the top of the food chain with all basic needs met, anything more really doesn’t make a sustained difference in daily life. But if that is really true for everyone, then we’d all have the same stuff and means to experience whatever we craved at anytime. And we don’t.
You know it exists. You’ve felt its embrace. You’ll wait and wait and wait knowing that it will show up and pull all the pain and sorrow from your depressed mind. Then one day, one very, very good day, fortune sways her tiller and relief finally pays you a visit. You rush into its arms, not caring what disruption its presence bring. All you know is that it is finally here with its many precious gifts: Endings that didn’t come soon enough, freedom from layers upon layer of self doubt and dread, and, above all, peace. The orgasmic peace that only comes after a storm. Safety from past fears is assured and I am once again treading on new shoes in a new town with nothing but newness to strike my fancy. Oh all the new things I can think and do. And all the new options available to me too.
I want to cry. I want to. I can’t cry. The culture of my youth beat the crying out of me. Just like it beat into me when is appropriate to celebrate. Celebrate your birthday! celebrate your wedding! Celebrate your graduation! celebrate here celebrate there. Cry for death. Cry happily for a birth. Cry for pain so horrible that you can’t remember that you’re not supposed to cry when something hurts. But under no circumstances should you cry because you had no choice but to take a pay cut that has left you without fun money for the past 6 months you fucking pussy. Suck it up and deal with it.
Jerks, my childhood friends, plain assholes. I’ll cry if I want to. At least I wish I could now.
The world has changed. I’m now surrounded by people of the same generation who all just want to cry and filet their emotions onto me. The same people who made fun of my glasses in grade school are wearing that exact same style.
Me, I’ve evolved into a cooler style of glasses and have learned to control my crying by just being silent or changing the subject or shrugging it off with some humor so i can sort through my emotions in private.
Now I’m the asshole. I’m the bad friend who is inconsiderate because I don’t understand why they are emotional. I’m the one who tried really hard to suck it up to survive and those same skills that made me not the cry baby, now make me he asshole. I’m fucked either way and to top it off I’m broke. These parasites just keep feeding!
It is sad that us 30 somethings are leading no different of a trajectory then our parents. Sad because that wasn’t the plan. We didn’t plan to live blue collar jobs where 50 cent raises every year were a luxury. We planned to make bank. Instead of getting jobs at stable companies out of high school or after our AA degrees, we went full out and got through grad school. To make what? An inflation adjust equivalent of your parent’s 1980’s wages plus a student loan. Without what? a house and a family.
Seriously, my parents had a family young because they could afford one. They had the means to make it happen. My generation had them either by accident (trust me not a single one of my “smart” friends from high school has had a child out of wedlock because we studied the shit out of birth control) or planned without an infusion from inheritance.
I set out to beat debt. I wasn’t going to live like everyone else either racking up credit cards or using their house as an ATM. But it doesn’t work. The possibilities are too abundant and salaries have declined. Everywhere I turn are people trying to over charge for the most simplest of items. $3.00 for a kitchen sponge where I can get 10 for $2.00 elsewhere. Simple everyday things that suck the life out of me. These things add up, and marketers know that. I feel taken advantaged of. Employers know we need money so they hold it against us. This world is evil. We really are in hell, our own reincarnated level of hell. I’ve known this since I was a child and I see it to be true because happiness is only temporary. We are given what we get for no understandable purpose. the fact that it is not comprehensible or apparent that we know why we are here and playing in this specific position suggests that that is why we are here. The unknowns are the key. The unknowns are our reason for reincarnation or whatever you want to call it. We are tortured by the ones better off than us just as much as the less fortunate. We can not achieve higher and fear a fall further from grace.
Be not afraid is a mis nomer. Be afraid. So afraid that you chose to help create heaven on earth. Don’t worry about standing up to the politicians, go beyond them. Create heaven on earth, don’t wait for the after life. Make the after life heaven when you get there too. Clean up hell. Don’t yield to the intimation of the under world. Don’t go weak in the knees and embrace your own mortality. Merge heaven and earth. Bring them as one and no one will suffer. No one will be left starving or maddened by ignorance and illness.
Make life a better place in all realms and dimensions. Bring the gods in harmony, let the angels sing and the fairies unite. This place is only evil as much as we let evil in. Merge the worlds and summon the spirits to pull it all together for endless mirth and merriment. Only then will this abomination of disparity cease to exist.
It’s an evil place playing a dirty trick. Everywhere are teases of happiness and absolved despair with a price just out of reach. It allows you the knowledge that you’ll fall over a cliff if you lean just slightly more forward to grasp the carrot of a day. Nowhere is the actual capability to bring the carrot closer. Everyone is fooled. They tout ideas and strategies for bringing the carrot closer as they themselves remain carrot-less as well. The only way to ever get close to the carrot is to sell your soul to the evilness. To work for the madman to keep the distractions flowing so no one wakes up from the illusion. Those who have woken up are pitied for everything they’ve lost. In this place, no one can keep their worldly possessions without paying a price to the madman. Only two choices exist: pay with all your possessions and live in exile as an unfortunate, or pay with your heart and soul working your life behind meaninglessness barriers.
Raquel sat waiting by the river for something positively exciting to happen to her. She’d had enough of the boring and miserable aspects of life. Death, loss, being broke, toxic relationships, career setbacks, etc. You name it, it’s happened. All these dark sides had shaken her confidence and belief in the attainment of dreams. She found herself going out less and not wanting to get involved in social activities because of the hidden costs associated with them. As she sat she reviewed all her naïve hopes from years past. “I was going to be great! I was going to put in the hard work necessary to make a grand living, gain respect and create my own small empire of wealth.” It distressed her to reflect on the situation in which those dreams evolved. Unfortunately, far from reality was that time of life. So small was the social circle and breadth of knowledge of how the world really operated, it was no wonder that she had once thought she could accomplish all that.
She in herself had changed too. When those dreams were stamped into her mission in life she had yet to experience her own joys of life outside the buffering childhood. The joys of solitude and general dislike for seemingly pointless and repetitive social cues were pivotal examples of how her own personality blocked her attainment of those dreams. Without at least a tolerance for politics how could she expect to navigate organizations in power or even encourage people to follow her should she wish to create her own environment? Some social constructs were fairly easy to navigate, however, those we generally found easy to everyone else as well making them less lucrative and/or just plain lazy.
In a way she was over those old dreams. After all, many of them had been accomplished so it was just a lingering few that refused to be fulfilled. Dropping the dreams was an option, but the feeling of “if I try just a little bit longer” always kept her coming back to them. The idea that she simply lacked new dreams was also toyed with. But her new found knowledge of the world shrunk her dreams to fit that realistic reality and thus new dreams were actually accomplished rather easy as they we both easily attainable with her current skills or simply dreamt up from a more practical mind.
All of which brought her to today, a place where she believed that simply waiting around for a lucky break into prosperity would do her more good than targeted action.