It isn’t what people say at the beginning of a conversation that is on their minds. Wait for it. The bread and butter will reveal itself. I know this because I know my own mind. It never stops living. My life is a mere continuation of my dreams, but in my waking life I are often interrupted by simple things such as people talking to me, cars needing to be driven, work needing to be done, and bodies needing to be taken care of. In my sleep there is no stopping the thoughts, they manifest to their fullest without remorse or guilt for any harm or discomfort they cause me. But I don’t mind, I like to roam free. In watching my thoughts, I am able to see through the layers by not getting stuck on one topic, so for a second, I get a glimpse of what is bothering me way underneath it all. Under those layers are the things I wouldn’t say until I was deep into the conversation. Under the layers are the situations that I wish never happened, the things I wish I could take back, and the things I wish would leave me alone. I see those issues there, but seeing is all I can do. If I pull out a topic from the roots and thus finally rid myself of its nagging existence, another topic will fill into that spot. The process is endless because the spots are always there, grasping issues to apply its emotions to. Seeing through the layers, clearing them off, and restructuring was just the beginning. It is overwhelming to climb what you thought was the tallest peak only to finally see how many more mountains are ahead of you. It is the space they layers fill that needs adjustment. How to adjust them, I don’t yet know. From here I cannot see how deep they go because the surface life covers them for most of my day. When the surface life is very smooth and thick, it crates a nice trail to follow that makes me not think about the foundation built below. Maybe this is because the deep layers really do not matter so long as life is in order. So I guess this one comes down to this: When life is good, don’t spoil the fun.
Men like to tell women that fairy tales don’t exist. I believe that this happens because women are more prone to wearing their emotional needs on their sleeves. It is easy to walk up to someone and tell them fairytales don’t exist when they have “Looking for my dream man” written on their T-shirt or Stilettos. But we all have our fairytale dreams where we envision our savior coming down and taking away some sort of internal torment. For many they turn to Jesus and say that the savior has already come, we have just to learn from his teachings. Others hope for the future to bring us what we desire.
We sit and dwell and work out all the details so that we don’t miss the opportunity once he presents himself. In every fairy tale there is a discomfort that drives us to want relief. Prolonged exposure to the discomfort makes us externally accepting of the situation but internally scheming for our way out. Unfortunately for us women, men are always a disappointing solution because they don’t honestly provide relief, they provide a distraction that in itself causes more problems.
I don’t think I want to get married. It is odd how difficult it is to admit. All paths on the map to get there are dead ends. Thinking about it hits my nervous system and almost makes me want to cry. But I don’t cry, maybe a slight sob will come out. I’m mourning the loss of my dreams. At one time I had thought that’s what I wanted.
The next thoughts is, “What am I going to do instead?” I think that’s where the lost cry comes from because I don’t know. I guess I will just work, save money, travel, enjoy my freedom, continue to dabble in experience with men if I met one who is interesting enough. That’s all. It can be summed up that quickly. Mourning the loss of my dreams because I have out grown them. I always had difficulty accepting that I have to grow up. I’m never fully ready for it, usually I’m way past the point when I realize what about me needs to be changed.
I still have some hope that the world with change and I will be able to see things differently, but as far as I can tell, the situation is out of my control. The guys I like don’t like me, I don’t like the guys who like me, I’m broke, so are they… I don’t enjoy feeling obligated to socialize with people, it exhausts me. I am happy the way I am with my day to day happenings. I see dating as a form of prostitution and marriage as a prison where I am damned to be the bitch he cheats on and a surrogate mother he has to ask for permission to stay out late.
The world is apparently flattening yet all over I still sense a need in people to cling to old forms of social class structures. Top schools, top jobs, top companies, top designers, top top top top top. Are we working for money or recognition? If someone pays you a salary, you are working class. If you live paycheck to pay check, regardless of income amount, you are broke. If your net worth is negative, you are broke.
The standard of living gives people a false sense of social standing. The ability to talk and act “up” also give a false sense of where they stand. People aren’t competing against each other, people are competing against what others claim to have or be doing. There is a big difference, especially if you encounter a habitual exaggerator who defines themselves by their dreams not by their actual accomplishments. But anyway, why the need to compete after the contest is over? After the good school, good work experience, good standard of living, etc. At what point does the competitive drive just allow everyone to kick back and simply enjoy the fruits?
i guess I just want the competitive people to shut up. It is the noise coming out of their mouth, infecting my ears that irritates me. For some reason my brain finds meaning in it, fearful meaning. Perhaps my sensitivity to words is just flaring up again. The words hit at my insecurity about no being smart enough or good enough. So whenever I hear the competitive chatter, it gets to me. I don’t like being taunted, teased, or put down. Words have meaning and I respect them. Therefore I don’t use them aggressively unless I mean to, but that doesn’t mean I should expect everyone else to follow my same doctrine.
Harnessing my own insecurity would help. If I accepted that I am perfectly fine and capable, then I could move on. I could fill in the empty space were my old insecurity sat with something better that doesn’t listen for fearful confirmation. I could replace it with confidence and the ability to not need to second guess myself.
I woke up two months ago and it was all brand new, the light shook my hand with a smile, changing everything so that nothing before felt as if it actually happened. Then freedom set itself in through my calmer routine. Once the stresses of busy times subsided and I could sit back and reflect on the things that used to bother me, I found that not only did they not bother me anymore, but I also couldn’t quite remember why I was bothered by them in the first place. This joyful forgetting has happened before.
Liberated, I’m ready to go explore again. I just can’t yet, but I can taste it in my imagination. This tinge in my mind sets in only when I am not engaged in conversation or distracted by some other task. It is torturous, the constant salivating over something that you know you can obtain, the hungry knowing that so much time must pass before the harvest, and the painful tingling of possibilities of what will happen in the mean time…
I sit and go about my everyday life, routine after routine, carrying the thoughts of what has been and what could be both floating simultaneously with every movement and every word. Dreams have turned into strategic scheming and gathering of data of how of how to get where I want to be.
I must admit there is still one thing bothering me. But i think it is normal to be bothered by being told to go away before you have been given a proper chance. I don’t know how long it will take until my psyche stops tossing that thought into my completely unrelated existence.
I just had a crazy dream that I was being held hostage. Like literally i just woke up and typed this… i’ll edit it later, maybe…. I just wasn’t allowed to leave. I remember the date was june 11th because the guy asked me if I we were doing something today and I asked, “why because it is june 11th or because we just need to go out. “what is june 11th? they guy asked. I just shrugged because I really didn’t know, but but i felt like he should, he said “June 11th is your day” or something like that. The guy kept coming and going and in the beginning we were in some sort of hotel and he kept going in and out of the hotel and there was someguy who was trying to catch himdoing something but was furustrated and showed me the data out of his machine and he still couldn’t catchhim doing anything . That guy eventually left. I think in the beginning theabusive guy was talking with my parents and they liked him. But slowly, by the june 11th point I was isolated. He bought other girls to stay too, and they thought they were better than me until I asked the other girls if the abusive guy had ever beatenthem and one girl described her situation just as I was remembering mine. He was hitting me with things. From there I was determined to leave and started gather all the keys to various houses. Then my sister brought my dog over and I had to try and figure out how I was going to get the dog out with me. I had already gathered my most prized possessions in a specific place and was hurrying try to collect more plastic keys that needed assembly so he couldn’t get into the place I was going. Then I look downstairs over the balcony and Hannah had just driven up she said “Woman!, just get in the car right now, let just go, lets just go.” I grabbed a pile of papers and money which were my most prized possession as well as what ever else I could fit in my arms, the other girls were in hannah’s car and we had to hurry because he was coming home. I couldn’t get in the car properly because she kept moving forward. I finally got in and the other girls in the back seat screamed he’s coming, he’s coming, just then he noticed that we were escaping and pulled out a gun and started shooting at us. At that point it turned into a comic book with just colorful scenes of us getting shot at in the car with bullets bending all around us, while we were being shot at in the car, the scene was being mixed with a past scene of when he had done something similar of killing a bunch of people before in some large mansion where the peole were running down the main foyer with seas of bullets passing them. Then my alarm clock went of even though it is a holiday and I can sleep in, all because I forgot to set the alrms to off last night.
I think my habit of falling in love with the idea of things isn’t helping. Well it does help because it allows me to construct an ideal picture to guide my path, but the planning and discovering of what elements would be perfect to put in my situation distracts me from other things. Gosh, I’m trying to say that I shouldn’t fall so in love with ideas, yet all my support to that statement points to “I love falling in love with ideas.” sigh… I just love it so I’m just going to keep doing it. There is no rational way of saying that I shouldn’t dream so much, because dreaming has in fact proven to be the catalyst of all my travels.
But it poses a problem when I am not sure whether I love someone, or just love the thought of them. It is a tricky way of thinking about people. Because whatever data I have gathered is filtered through my brain and my dreams are end products that I use to see if I’m on the right track. If too much negativity manifests in my mind at the thought of you, then I take that as a sign that this isn’t working. If I get a positive reading, then we’re good.
Data selection is key here because when I have a good reading and I’m really enjoying the thoughts someone provokes, I tend not to want to hear anything that will spoil my inner fun. So if I think I need to gather more fuel for my fire (i.e. information), I will still chose to find positive things to outweigh any negatives I happen to run across in the process.
Love is strange in that it has a built in component that makes me refuse to find reason not to love someone.
Anyways, I do not see that it is a bad thing if someone is in love with the idea of a person; however, if that is the only thing about them that makes you love them, then you’re not really in love with them at all. You’re in love with the parts of them you can create. So this Pygmalion effect essentially is misdiagnosed as love, probably because of the euphoria and sense of completeness that is only attainable in my mind…
Dreams have their own timing. So enjoy putting the puzzle pieces of life together as they appear in front of you instead of pondering on the couch how it didn’t happen as you planned. You might miss your next window of opportunity to act. If you are paying attention, you’ll notice that windows of opportunity appear all the time They do not all look the same so you must make the right wish (within your means, so for me this is just a little above realistic) to alert your mind to learn how to recognize the necessary windows. It is all in your mind.
“If the reader reflects a little upon the meaning of the entity he calls his life, he will find that it is the attempt to carry out a definite program or project of existence. … We are dealing – and let the disquieting strangeness of the case be well noted – with an entity whose being consists not in what it is already, but in what it is not yet, a being that consists in not-yet-being. Everything else in the world is what it is. An entity whose mode of being consists in what it is already, whose potentiality coincides at once with his reality, we call a ‘thing.’ Things are given their being ready-made.” – Ortega
I’m not sure if any one ever told me this before, perhaps I wasn’t listening if they did, but I’ve figured out that it is best not to make dreams that revolve around specific people or events that are outside of my personal control. I say this because I am tired of watching things die. Friendships, dogs, grandparents, memory foam pillows, etc. If things lasted forever then yes, putting them in my dreams would be justified, but I’ve learned over the past two years that it is not safe to do that.
Yes, being completely abandoned, let down, relieved, disappointed, elated, etc are all signs that I am indeed living an eventful life, full of adventurous obstacles to overcome and push my limits through, but a by-product of that is having to constantly push myself further to trust and learn when to rely on new people as well as believe what they are telling me is true. Anyways, I now focus my future plans (as best I can) on elements that are more within my control, and it is great because when influences of others come into play it is a pleasant surprise as opposed to a “oh, I was hoping you would have been like this instead.”
There I was pacing the halls of my palace, wondering how on earth the evil god of the northern tribes managed to kidnap some of my protected soldiers from their post on the border with the tribal plains. “I spent weeks putting the barrier up with the best wizards in the country, and even tested the fact that those soldiers were physically incapable of crossing the barrier, either by their own will or force. How could it possibly have failed???” I exclaimed in a fit of fury to my humble adviser, Grumbambly, from the planet Gamb. His six eyes worryingly gazed out the window as my personal body guard approached through the courtyard to deliver, what I knew was a devastating…. lick on my hand….? “Lula! No, I’m trying to sleep Boo. Okay Okay you can climb in bed too, but, no, don’t take up the whole thing… no I can’t be petting you constantly, alright give me a snuggle…yes, thank you for cleaning my hand, I love you too…All Done! Sleep time, Lula, Sleep time….”