Sunrise, Sunset

Sunrise, sunset.
Sunrise, sunset.
Swiftly go the days.
Sunrise, sunset.
You wake up, then you undress.
It always is the same.
The sunrise and the sunsets.
You are lying while you confess, keep trying to explain.
The sunrise and the sunsets
You realize then you forget what you’ve been trying to retain.
But everybody knows that it is all about the things
That get stuck inside of your head,
Like the songs your roommate sings
Or a vision of her body as she stretches out on your bed.
She raised her hands in the air, asked you,
When was the last time you looked in the mirror?
Cause you’ve changed.
Yeah, you’ve changed.
Sunrises, sunsets.
You’re hopeful then you regret.
The circle never breaks.
With a sunrise and a sunset there’s a change of heart or address.
Is there nothing that remains?
For a sunrise or a sunset.
You’re manic or you’re depressed.
Will you ever feel ok?
For a sunrise or a sunset, your lover is an actress.
Did you really think she’d stay?
For a sunrise or a sunset.
You’re either coming or you just left but you’re always on the way.
Towards a sunrise or a sunset, a scribble or a sonnet.
They are really just the same.
To the sunrise and the sunset.
The master and his servant have exactly the same fate.
It’s a sunrise and a sunset.
From a cradle to a casket.
There is no way to escape.
The sunrise and the sunset.
Hold your sadness like a puppet, keep putting on the play.

But everything you do is leading to the point
Where you just won’t know what to do.
And at that moment you may laugh
But there is someone there who will be laughing louder than you.
So it’s true, the trick is complete.
Become everything you said you never would be.
You’re a fool! You’re a fool!
Sunrise, sunset, sunrise, sunset.
Sunrise and the sunsets.
Sunrise, sunset, sunrises, sunsets.
Sunrise and the sunsets.
Sunrise, sunset.
Go home to your apartment
And put the cassette in the tape deck and let that fever play.
Sunrise, sunset

This pretty much sums up my feelings right now. Thank you, Bright Eyes. There are numerous times in my thoughts where songs are just so much easier to use to explain how I’m feeling. I identify with them so strongly, it’s almost as if I wrote them.

I’m at the point where there is so much to say, I’m rendered speechless; so much to think, I’m almost thoughtless. So much to feel, I’m almost careless.

 

But as I’m on top of Manic Mountain, I can see the Valley of Apathy far below. It’s a long fall, you know, and I’m careless, thoughtless, and speechless.

I will stumble, not care, and the scream will never come.

The more I post, the more stable I am. I know it seems crazy, because when I post a lot it’s always up and down, crazy stuff which seems like I’m really not okay.

But, if I’m feeling things, I’m functioning. If I’m not feeling anything, not posting, not writing, there is a problem.

I’m like a small child.

Silence is a sign of trouble, of a mind preoccupied, of danger.

And it happens just like it does every other time.

You’ll be minding your own, absorbed in your thoughts. Suddenly, you will realize that I have dropped off of the face of the earth.

Then you will all frantically contact me, eyes wild and heart racing.

I will shortly snub you out, and resume my silent brewing.

And you will be hurt for a bit, then resume your thoughts.

Don’t worry at all. It’s normal.

Normal. What a paradox.

Today, I feel like silence.

Strange Loop/Downward Causality

Strange loop: by moving up and down in a hierarchal system, one finds ones self back where one started.

The universe is shaped exactly like the earth; if you go straight long enough you’ll end up where you were.

Causality: the relationship between a cause and an effect.

Downward causality: a situation where a cause-and-effect relationship in a system is flipped upside down.

The mind perceives itself as the cause of certain feelings.

In reality, emotions and desires are nothing more than neurons and synapses firing off, and when you dig to the bones, quantum mechanics.

 

I spent about twenty minutes thinking about this. I really did.

Plato believed that mind and body were two different things, that the soul was immortal and because it was not on the material/biological plain it would live on forever. Because everything that lives will die, right?

So, why is it we feel like we’re living when we’re feeling?

Our feelings are a product of a biological process.

It makes little sense to me to say that feelings, which are chemical processes, are signs of a soul, which is not a biological thing, and that because we feel and desire, that bit of us will live on forever. Or that we can control it.

This boils down to downward causality: You believe that you are the source of your desires and feelings, because of your self-consciousness, but you know that feelings and emotions are chemical reactions and electrical impulses.

The causality of this situation is something I cannot fully grasp.

Your body will die. It will decompose and waste away. Your emotions, your consciousness, will cease to exist when your lungs stop pumping oxygen to your heart, because without oxygen your synapses do not fire. You will be dead.

The science behind your soul will die.

And I’m supposed to believe that, by some miracle, my ‘soul’ will live on immortally.

This is a strange loop.

This is a strange loop because you can change the way you feel. You have the power to stop your hate, to make yourself happy, to change what you desire.

Yet, the only reason you have these powers is because what you use to change them is what caused them.

 

This is tragic but true.

Tragic because everyone wants to think that if you fuck up on earth, you will be punished in an afterlife, or if you’ve done a good job you will be rewarded in eternity.

But, the beautifully ironic part is that no matter what you think, what you do, what you believe, you will die.

And not a bit of this will matter because you’ll be dead.

 

 

Valentine’s Day

This is the first Valentine’s Day that I’ve even had a shot at having a Valentine, not because I’m a hideous freak, but because I’ve just never really had a particular person around on Valentine’s Day.

So when today rolled around, I almost exploded with excitement.

Because I sort of had a Valentine. Well, at least the potential for one.

I got up, got all cute and stuff, and headed off to school.

“I don’t really believe in Valentine’s Day.  I think it’s stupid. You shouldn’t have to have all this build up for one day, blah blah blah, you should do that all the time, blah blah blah, I’m dumb and you’re not my Valentine, just so you don’t have any assumptions or anything, because if you did I just shot them ALL TO HELL.” ~ Ex-Potential Valentine

I said it was cool and didn’t matter. I said it was fine he was going to hang out with his stupid friends and do stupid male things. I said it was all okay. I said I didn’t have any assumptions.

 

I lied my ass off.

And I responded with one word answers. Like ‘K’.

‘K’ is the answer boys get when girls are irritated.

 

But he still wanted to hang out with me even after he spent time with his stupid friends and did stupid male things and stupid stuff, so I went over to his house.

And he epically redeemed himself. Before I got out of the car he was handing me a rose, a super cute hand made card, and OREO BROWNIES WITH HOT PINK ICING.

I’ve said all that to say this: I don’t give two shits if you think Valentines Day is a holiday that is all corporate and whatever. I just want you to think about your girlfriend/interest’s face when ALL of her friends are getting cute stuff from their significant others, and yours is not. I want you to think about how lame she feels because the guy she’s into doesn’t celebrate Valentines Day.

I know it’s tons of stress, blood, sweat and tears, but it’s worth it.

“If you hate Valentine’s Day so much, why go through the effort with the card and flower and whatnot?” I asked.

“Because it made you smile.”

Besides, in a month it will be Steak and BJ Day.

And your girlfriend will look back on today in exactly one month, and treat you accordingly.

Gimme Sympathy

Get hot, get too close to the flame
Wild, open space
Talk like an open book
Sign me up
Got no time to take a picture
I’ll remember someday all the chances we took
We’re so close to something better left unknown
We’re so close to something better left unknown

I can feel it in my bones
Gimme sympathy
After all of this is gone
Who’d you rather be?
The Beatles or the Rolling Stones?
Oh, seriously
You’re gonna make mistakes, you’re young
Come on, baby, play me something
Like, “Here Comes the Sun”
Come on, baby, play me something
Like, “Here Comes the Sun” ~ Gimme Sympathy by Metric

 

Today is the first day I’ve felt like writing in a long time. I’ve just had a block, I guess.

I’ve had so much going on in my head, I couldn’t have begun to sort through it all and write it down.

The good news is that it’s all stuff I’ve felt and dealt with before. I know I’ll be fine.

The bad news is that it’s just terrible to feel like I have the past month.

I think I’ve finally worked myself back up to my usual level of optimism, which isn’t usually a whole lot, but it’s better than none at all.

I’m done being a slacker. I’m done moping around.

I will say this though: It’s incredibly easy to fall into despair. It’s so easy, almost effortless, to blame all of your problems on something or someone else. Self pity is the most addicting thing I’ve come in contact with. But then again, I’ve never tried heroin.

I don’t have anything really insightful or funny to say right now.

I just wanted to let everyone know I’m alive.

Alive in a sense of metaphor. Of course I’m breathing and my heart is pumping blood. But I’m feeling and thinking and actually living.

I’m alive.

It’s nice.

Mom

I miss you terribly. I have never missed another person as
much as I miss you right now. I really miss you so much it hurts. I
miss your jokes and how you keep me in line. I miss your
encouragement, how you know what I’m thinking all the time, I miss
your food. I miss invading your space as soon as you walk in from
work. I miss being obnoxious and talking through the door while
you’re trying to pee. I miss flopping on your bed. I miss your
hugs. I miss the way our house smells. I miss watching movies with
you. I miss you picking on me. I just really, really miss you.
Right now, I feel like I’m not important to you at all. Even when
I’m gone, you call me to yell at me. You never call me just to talk
to me. I talk to Nana more than I talk to you now. Nana calls me
just to ask me how my day was. Sometimes I just want to scream at
you and shake you until you see things like I see them. Sometimes,
I want you to see that you had a choice and you didn’t choose me
and that it really hurts. Sometimes I wish you could see how awful
I feel because everything is my fault and that if I could fix it, I
would. Sometimes, I wish that I wasn’t so selfish. Maybe things
would be different if I wasn’t so selfish. But other times I look
back and see those times that you never stood up for me. I see
those times you tried to justify everything and say that it just
couldn’t be helped. I remember those times that no matter how hard
I tried to explain to you, you just wouldn’t believe me. I remember
those times when I was very last on your list of people to worry
about, when everyone else came before me. I remember those times
that I tried so damn hard to make you happy, but I just couldn’t. I
remember all of this stuff, and I just get mad all over again.
Because, honestly, I never felt like you thought I was
good enough.

Snow

Snow is one of those things that is nice in theory and in fairy tales. People who live in snowy areas are probably incredibly brave or insane or lots of both.

This has made me reevaluate my decision to go to school in Chicago. I hear it snows there quite a bit.

It does not snow in Georgia very often at all. When it does, it’s like three millimeters or something. But those three millimeters cause the entire state to shut down. Now, I’m looking at the four inches outside of my window, wondering if everyone in the state thinks this is the apocalypse and Jesus is coming.

Also, there is this nice layer of ice on top of the snow, so the most I could do today is go outside and slip around. I could not make snow angels, I could not make a snow man, and I could not sled because we have insufficient hills.

School is cancelled for tomorrow as well, so not only am I limited on outside fun, but I’m going to be stuck in the house with a TV (which holds about an hour of entertainment for me) and a laptop (which hold about two hours of entertainment for me), for a total of two days, possibly three.

With my luck the power will go out and my phone will die and stuff. Then it really will be the apocalypse and Jesus better hurry himself up before I’m one of the ones that dies from boredom.

I thought about making pictures for this blog, but I couldn’t think of anything funny to draw. Except…

stuffstuffstuff

This is not funny stuff. This is just stuff.

Can you tell I’m bored?

 

(183) Days of Candace

So, every one should have seen (500) Days of Summer. If you didn’t, none of  this will make any sense.  So, I’ll explain.

Summer tells Tom that she doesn’t want a relationship and that she doesn’t believe in true love, but they end up getting closer anyways. Then she breaks it off with him. Tom becomes depressed and whiny, because his heart is broken and all that stuff. Summer gets engaged to someone else. This sends Tom into an alcohol/junk food induced coma of sorts. Then he gets over it, goes to get another job, and meets a new girl. Whoo!

Right now, I’m Summer. Right now, I can identify with her character way more than when I watched it. Because when I watched the movie I kept thinking “That BITCH! How could she do that?!” but now I understand.

So, I don’t hate her at all any more. Except for her voice. It’s irritating.

Right. Anyways.

I’m just about ready for school to be over with. I’m just about done with Georgia. I’m looking for new friends, new stuff to do, new things to learn.

Oh, I bought my first lottery ticket today.

And I packed more stuff up and moved it.

And I have to go back to school tomorrow.

AND I realized that at the first sign of people causing me distress I’m going to cut them off and shut them out. It seems to be the best thing to do.

‘Do you memorize theatrical lines
That seem to lead them in
Play the role with a good girl heart
Hide the tangled webs within

Who was it that lead you on
That makes you want to hurt me so?
Who do you want to forget?
Who forgot you long ago?

Do you still feel him
Calling in the air tonight?
Do you still feel it?
Seems like you’ve done this before

You make breaking hearts look so easy
Seems like you’ve done this before
You’ve got breaking hearts all but down
And you’ve done this, you’ve done this before

You make stealing hearts look so easy
Where is the girl I adore?
You’ve got breaking up all but down
And I can’t love a thief anymore

Do you collect the souls you’ve lost
In the top of your dresser drawer?
Count the number of tears displaced
On lonely bedroom floors

A machine where your heart once was
Slowly takes the place of you
Only hold the memories now
Of a love I thought I knew”

December 29, 2006

Four years ago, in about an hour, I will have tried to kill
myself for the third time in two months.

I will have changed
clothes, into something somewhat comfortable. I will have walked
into my mother’s room, taken the sleeping pills off the bedside
table, and taken as many as I could possibly manage without water.
I will have thought about writing a note, but then decide against
it.

I will lay down and wait to die. And then I will wake up in the
hospital, forced to drink liquid charcoal and tell the doctor why I
tried to kill myself

. All of this will have happened exactly four
years ago, in about an hour. The next three days are the most vivid
in my memory in terms of painful. I didn’t eat, didn’t sleep, I did
not do a single thing for three days while I sat in the suicide
ward of a mental institution, except for feel sorry for myself.

I’m
looking at my 14 year old self, wondering what the hell I was
thinking. I really wish I could go back in time and punch myself in
the face. But, I was stupid and naive and I’m not going to dwell on
it.

I just thought it was worth mentioning.

But anyways.

My mind
has been in a million places today, and I’m exhausted now. I’ve hit
every emotion known to man the past 24 hours and I’m just about
sick of it. I cried for the first time in ages today. Well, I’ve
cried about Algebra and being an almost failure, but I don’t count
that. This was different. I felt like someone was ripping my
stomach out and the world was ending. But I’m better now. That is
all.

The Christmas Post

I was reading a few of my usual blogs today, and I noticed that everyone else has a Christmas post. Feeling rather left out, I decided to make a Christmas post.

The trouble comes now. I’m not feeling very Christmas-y, or jolly, or fun. So, I’m going to tell a story, and everyone is going to pretend the characters have Santa hats on the entire time. Because everyone knows that Santa hats mean it’s Christmas.

Gather around the fire children, and let the story begin.

Once there was a cute family of bunnies. Oh, they were adorable. They had their cute little noses and their fluffy little cotton tails.

Life is swell.

Then one day, something not so nice happened.

The Black Plague will make your eyeballs pop out and you will die.

The bunnies contracted the plague and their eyeballs popped out. But they didn’t die. Oh, no.

They hopped on, sure that life would get better.

“And did it?”, you ask.

Well, no.

They hopped. And they hopped. And they hopped some more. Until eventually they hopped….

NOMNOMNOMMOTHERFUCKERS

Right into a nest of rattle snakes.

And they were eaten, one by one. Forced to hear the screams of their fallen comrades.

The End.

Merry fucking Christmas.

For some people, Christmas is a time of good cheer, and joy, and love, and family. Everyone can sit around the roast beast and be civil and talk about Mary Sue and her beautiful fucking children and how Bobbie Jean is going to grow up to be so freaking handsome, and ‘man we love each other lets go sing until our hearts explode from Christmas joy’ sorts of feelings.

Then there are those of us that really hate Bobbie Jean and Mary Sue and couldn’t sing a single Christmas carol if their life depended on it. We are the people who live in reality.

We’re the sort of people that sit by Aunt Norma because she smells and everyone got the good seats. We’re the sort of people that end up last in line for food because we got sent to the gas station for ice because no one likes us. We end up cleaning the kitchen while everyone else watches some stupid movie in the living room.

I start out thinking Christmas is going to be awesome and wonderful and full of love and cheer and stuff. The I get the plague. The Family Plague (which, ironically, is a close cousin of the Black Plague) and my eyeballs pop out and all sorts of boils, in the form of close-proximity-stupid contact, start to spring up all over my body.

But, I think that everything will get better. So, I continue on my merry way.

Then, the venom filled fangs of judgement are unsheathed and it is revealed that I am a failure.

Everyone stops when I enter the room. The quite whispers stop, then resume after a sufficiently awkward pause is made.

“Look at that independent, art deco, hippie, terrorist, tattoo-ed, pierced up, sex orgy having relative we have.”

“Oh, yes. I see her. Something right out of National Geographic.”

Family. Family. Family.

They will eat you alive.

Oedipus and Freud

“His destiny moves us only because it might have been ours – because the oracle laid the same curse upon us before our birth as upon him. It is the fate of all of us, perhaps, to direct our first sexual impulse towards our mother and our first hatred and our first murderous wish against our father. Our dreams convince us that this is so.” ~Sigmund Freud on the Oedipus Complex

 

I won’t bore anyone with the ins and outs of the Oedipus Complex, but essentially it’s a set subconscious developments that, if not completed successfully, are thought to be a contributor to guilt later in life, neurosis, homosexuality, and many other things. Such as the people that you’re attracted to and tend to want to date.

Which is why I want to date people that remind me of my father.  Dark hair, complexion and eyes. Outgoing and cocky personality, witty, humorous, emotionally unavailable, conceited, egotistical jerks. Mostly.

I mean, not every one has all of those traits, but at least two or three.

Which is where  the problem lies. I keep dating the same sorts of people. The wrong sorts of people. The logical solution is to stop doing it, right? The logical solution is to find someone who is not a conglomeration of the above characteristics and to date him. Logic flies out the window when you start to talk about things like attraction, which is a very illogical thing.

So, now I’m stuck. This line of  thinking can’t continue until I figure out what to do next. I’m going to ponder it some more. Because I’ve once again put myself in the same situation, which is awesome. I’m so intelligent. There is not a shot in hell this is going to work out.

Onward then.

Tonight I had a very insightful conversation with a friend about all sorts of things. I enjoyed it, and it also got me thinking.

Somewhere in the synapses and neurons that wire my brain, electrical impulses are flying around, bouncing back and forth telling my body to do things and my conscious to think and feel things. I breathe because my body knows that if I don’t, I will die. I’m doing stupid, impulsive things. Things that I know I shouldn’t, that aren’t the best idea. But I do them anyways.

Like money. Good lord, I need to stop spending money. I’m usually pretty good about budgeting and things of that sort, but it seems that the less money I have to spend, the more I want to go buy useless stuff. Or I know that I need to conserve gas, but I drive around doing things anyways. I drive just to drive, with no real purpose or intent. I’m driving because I know I shouldn’t be and I guess I just want to screw myself over.

It’s so frustrating. It’s like all the will power I normally possess is gone.

Now, I’m sitting here thinking about people and situations and feelings and relationships, knowing well that what my mind is entertaining is stupid and foolhardy. But I can’t stop it. I mean, I’ve really put myself in a bind now. But I’m not going to interject my feelings into an already complicated situation. It comes down to two failed Oedipus complex completions, a resolve to quit smoking, and misplaced affections.