Journal 29
Misc shit that I think about.
Well, I think about myself a lot. I try not to really, because I end up pissing myself off. I think about why I am where I am, why I've dropped one of my ideals by having a McJob. I've realized my youthful idealism doesn't mean shit to 99% of the people I come in contact with. I fight myself over politics (Anarchism, Socialism, or Nihilism? They all have their place in my heart).
I realized that i live everything about 2 seconds after it happens. And when I realize it is ME moving that hand I see, that it is ME seeing what I'm seeing as it happens, I'm fucking AMAZED. It feels so strange being alive and not droning inside myself.
I've come to the acceptance that I'm not very attractive. I am definatly ok with that. I'm overweight, I have fucked up teeth, and I have too much hair. I have nice eyes, but I see them as being wasted on me. They should have gone to someone who is much funner to look at.
This leads to the reason I like visable tattoos and piercings. Well one reason anyways. Beauty. I am vain. I hate admiting that personally. Very vain at times. So here we have my vanity and lack of good looks, and I find body mods to be quite lusty, So since I can't do it naturally, I can be beautiful to myeslf through other means.
The second reason, in case you are wondering, is so that people can know me from looking at me. My tattoos will reflect my feelings and thoughts, I have a few planned out and will take pictures if i ever get money to go through with em. And I'll tell my grandkids (god i hope i never have any) the meaning behind them.
I also think a lot about who I am. Who I am has a lot to do with What I am. Some people cannot tell the difference. Who you are is a feeling, something that you can describe only by what you are and life expiriences or maybe a picture or something of that sort. What you are is superficial and can be changed over night.
I see my life as a darkness, kinda dank and very stormy, with specks of light comming through to make me wonder when the fuck the storm is gonna stop. But as of yet theres no rainbow anywhere.
Then there is ME. My favorite subject to write about it seems, which is maybe why I was reluctant to do it. I am a cynic. A pessimist, An angry person. In fact I hate to smile and I dont do it often, managers at work have commented about it, which is why i think they dont let me up front. I am a punk. This means jack shit except why I am. I was a reject. From the moment i stepped on the school bus for the first time, I was rejected by people I knew before hand (Thomas, my babbysitter, may he rot in hell with glass shoved up his dick). It went on. I hated myself, I posteured myself. And by one of those posteurings I stumbled upon something. People just as twisted and lonely as I was. What the fuck? You mean there are more than just a couple? And so the Real me was born.
I let it out then. The feelings I had, the ideas i kept secret, the pain. Everything. I stopped paying attention to the trends others followed and picked up one i felt (and feel) suited (and suits) me. I was rejected by my peers, and then I chose to reject my peers back. I grew into myself and found my voice. It only took me 16 or maybe 17 years to do that.
This could go on and on, so I think over the next few days I'll drop stories of what shaped me into what I am today.
Misc shit that I think about.
Well, I think about myself a lot. I try not to really, because I end up pissing myself off. I think about why I am where I am, why I've dropped one of my ideals by having a McJob. I've realized my youthful idealism doesn't mean shit to 99% of the people I come in contact with. I fight myself over politics (Anarchism, Socialism, or Nihilism? They all have their place in my heart).
I realized that i live everything about 2 seconds after it happens. And when I realize it is ME moving that hand I see, that it is ME seeing what I'm seeing as it happens, I'm fucking AMAZED. It feels so strange being alive and not droning inside myself.
I've come to the acceptance that I'm not very attractive. I am definatly ok with that. I'm overweight, I have fucked up teeth, and I have too much hair. I have nice eyes, but I see them as being wasted on me. They should have gone to someone who is much funner to look at.
This leads to the reason I like visable tattoos and piercings. Well one reason anyways. Beauty. I am vain. I hate admiting that personally. Very vain at times. So here we have my vanity and lack of good looks, and I find body mods to be quite lusty, So since I can't do it naturally, I can be beautiful to myeslf through other means.
The second reason, in case you are wondering, is so that people can know me from looking at me. My tattoos will reflect my feelings and thoughts, I have a few planned out and will take pictures if i ever get money to go through with em. And I'll tell my grandkids (god i hope i never have any) the meaning behind them.
I also think a lot about who I am. Who I am has a lot to do with What I am. Some people cannot tell the difference. Who you are is a feeling, something that you can describe only by what you are and life expiriences or maybe a picture or something of that sort. What you are is superficial and can be changed over night.
I see my life as a darkness, kinda dank and very stormy, with specks of light comming through to make me wonder when the fuck the storm is gonna stop. But as of yet theres no rainbow anywhere.
Then there is ME. My favorite subject to write about it seems, which is maybe why I was reluctant to do it. I am a cynic. A pessimist, An angry person. In fact I hate to smile and I dont do it often, managers at work have commented about it, which is why i think they dont let me up front. I am a punk. This means jack shit except why I am. I was a reject. From the moment i stepped on the school bus for the first time, I was rejected by people I knew before hand (Thomas, my babbysitter, may he rot in hell with glass shoved up his dick). It went on. I hated myself, I posteured myself. And by one of those posteurings I stumbled upon something. People just as twisted and lonely as I was. What the fuck? You mean there are more than just a couple? And so the Real me was born.
I let it out then. The feelings I had, the ideas i kept secret, the pain. Everything. I stopped paying attention to the trends others followed and picked up one i felt (and feel) suited (and suits) me. I was rejected by my peers, and then I chose to reject my peers back. I grew into myself and found my voice. It only took me 16 or maybe 17 years to do that.
This could go on and on, so I think over the next few days I'll drop stories of what shaped me into what I am today.
VIEW 3 of 3 COMMENTS
-bob dylan
must be something swept in by that damn storm, all this pondering.
masterbatory egoism is the very stuff that dreams -and these online journals -are made of.
i once lost touch with one of the best people i ever knew- the most complicated, most fucked-up, most fuckin' brilliant man i'll ever meet- because we had a falling out about existentialism. stupid shit. don't buy into -isms. take what you need to learn from all of them and use it, but don't let yourself be labeled. that's a tough thing to do, i know, especially in the punk rock/ intellectual/ activist circles.
don't get me wrong- writing is art. and writing lets me get shit out that i can't get out otherwise. but writing, i think, as hinted towards above, is masterbatory. when i write, it's to ease a tension, a frustration. art, true art- writing included- is creative. if journals are jerking off, then "art", in the very vague sense- is sex with the result of procreation.
it's a long fucking road towards coming to terms with yourself. it's not really fitting the pieces together- because they don't fit. the complexity of a personality, the contradictions and the constant conflicts- that's what makes being a human being interesting. i mean, once you've come to peace with yourself, you might as well die, right? it's something we need to hash out over a couple nights and some serious drinking.
so when are you coming to new orleans?
when you're followed by shadows everywhere you go, it just means you're walkin' towards the light.
i've wasted enough space in your journal by now... so i'll shut up and go get more coffee.
your partner in perpetual mental conflict,
xoxoxo, -Hyena.
$40. if you left july 14 and went back the 17. roundtrip. go to http://www.greyhound.com for times and fares.
everyone has their art. i don't care who you are or what you do. i think it's human nature to want to create- or at least harness something of yourself to share. to pass on. and i agree with the shit about warring- i think that too is human nature. i can be as pissed off about war and terrorism as i want, but deep down i know it must be.
my ex told me this parable once about a snake and a turtle. i'll tell you about it another time. but it definitely changed the way i think about the human race, or at least gave me some justification for our stupidity.
all i have to say is, be careful of the ism's. what i believe doesn't lie within one political, intellectual, sexual or religious stance. and i think i am freer because of it. if you wholly believe something, then fight for it. die for it. but make sure you know what you are doing- you can quickly become very disillusioned with "the cause" when your compatriots are closed-minded fuck-holes.
yours,
xoxoxo, -Hyena.