This is a stream of thought brought on by Marlowe's blog and DKSAVIOR02 reply, thanks guys for letting me know that I am not nearly as alone as I thought:
On the outside I am my mothers son, sweet, goofy, and submissive. On the inside, where it counts, I am one dangerous, crazy, mean motherfucker, just like my dad.
On any given day I am some algamization of the two. Today, right now, I am 100% from the inside. The freak has the microphone and he has something to say, so sit down, shut the fuck up, and listen. I start off kinda slow, but I get things going near the end. Have a nice fucking day!
Sometimes I feel at war with myself. From listening to random people I get the impression that they have a path in life and are not only comfortable with that path but are willing to turn a blind eye to the rest of the world to remain untouched by any outside force that might divert them from that path. No matter what that path might be. They choose to become a stereotype. Someone who can be easily identified, and even more easily dismissed or accepted. Frat boy, Sorority girl, Goth, Nerd, Jock, Stoner, and any other cliche' group that can be thought up. This is not a new phenomenon. This problem exists from middle school to the retirement home. My problem is that I don't fit into any of these groups. I don't want to be described in a one or two word phrase. I just want to be me dammit, and have people, random on-the-street people, either accept, or dismiss, me not for what group I stand for, but for who I am. I do not believe that I am the sum of my parts. I am made of parts, yes, some good some bad, but I am me, an entire whole human being. Take me as I am, whole, complete with all of my faults and my merits or go fuck yourself. Harsh words, I know, and I hate to use them, but I am damn tired and pissed off at people wanting the quick and simple answers as to who I am. Hell, I have no idea who I am. I am still trying to figure that out on a day-to-day basis. This goes all the way back to my first statement. I am jealous of these stereotypical people because they know automatically how to answer any question, how to react to any situation, and how to think just based off of what group they belong to. They have given themselves over to these pre-conceived ideals and ideas about themselves and the world at large, while I have to go though the day struggling the whole time to stay in one piece and not go fucking bonkers. At the same time that I envy those people I can see them for the fools that they are. I am my own person. I am not judged and ruled by some higher order of thought. I am singular, I am special, and apparently some of the rules do not apply to me. Yet the cruel fact is that since I have refused to accept the yoke of conformity I am damned to remain an outcast. Loneliness is my price for originality. At times I am only too happy to pay this toll for my soul, but at times this seems much too high a price to pay. No one should ever have to give up happiness just to be themselves, and conversely no one should have to abandon their individuality just to gain acceptance.
We live in society of subscribers. You either subscribe to this school of thought or that school of thought, leaving very little middle ground. This is were I find myself: the middle ground where there is no middle ground. Everyone else has found a camp of compatriots and are either allies or at odds with other camps, and somewhere in the middle I stand either forsaken or caught in the crossfire.
All of these schools of thought or encampments of the mind all seem to have some core belief or idea to sell that will entice me to join their ranks. What if I don't want what any of them are selling? What if I want to carve my own path to salvation, redemption, happiness. What does that make me? A sketch? A loner? A loser? A freak? What it has made me is sadly desperate and I hate myself for it. I loath almost everything I see around me in the urban-suburbanite pretty-boy hell, but I loath myself even more because I know the only thing keeping me in this state of mind is myself. I have put myself in this situation because dammit I want more out of life than empty pseudo-friendships, one-night-stands, and drunken stupidity. All throughout my life I have demanded my own way. My own self analysis, and sometimes other peoples opinions, is that I am pigheaded, stubborn, or spoiled. I have always had to bow my head from the force of someone elses will. I have had to put my own feelings away and do exactly what someone else has wanted me to do. And, if I didn't? I would get a guilt trip from hell that would leave me feeling like shit. For those of you with parents . . . that should be most of you, you know what I'm talking about. Why should I have to settle? Why should I have to put aside what I want for someone else? Why shouldn't my wants and needs be meet with the same stone faced seriousness that I had to meet their needs and wants with? Why should I be laughed at for wanting what was mine by rights to begin with? If this makes me a spoiled rotten brat, then fine. Fuck it. So fucking be it. That is what I am. I have spent too much of my life bidding my time, waiting for the opritunity to do something with my life, something that I wanted to do with simply because I wanted to. I have spent too much of my life wondering, "Do I really need to do this?", and questioning myself of the consequences of each and every action.
The world is my oyster and by god I'm going to suck that motherfucker down with some atomic fireball hot sauce and chase it with a gallon of beer, naked.
My name is Justin Rentz, this is my manifesto. Join me , hate me, love me, or fight me tooth and nail, but I am going to go through this life of mine wether you like it or not. Get in my way and you will be crushed. I have no time for the timid or the unsure, I have enough of that myself for ten people. I am not at full-steam ahead yet, but the train has left the station and I will chug-a-lug along come hell or high water. This is not a New Years Resolution, or a twelve-step program; this is my deceleration of independence. This is my rant and rave, my vent of super-hot emotional steam. This is the me that lies dormant behind my mask of calm servitude to the masses. This one me, we are many. This is the me that wants out, that demands freedom. He is going to get it.
The world is fucked and full of shit. So be it. Fuck the world. This isn't apathy, this is me pissed off. This is me ready, willing, and able to slash and burn my way through this urban rain forest, and rape, pillage, and plunder the unsuspecting shoreline villages of society. Welcome to my mind. Fucked up ain't it? If this means that I am crazy, so be it. If it means that I will be a loner, a loser, and a freak for the rest of my days, so be it. But, I will be me no matter what. If you don't like me for who I am, or the way I operate, then fuck you and the high handed horse you rode in on. I am real dammit. No faker here, no bullshit either. You get what you see, and if that makes your skin crawl and your stomach turn then good, I've done my job you fucking pussy. If it turns you on and gets you wet, then get on the fucking bed woman cause I'm ten feet of meat with bowling balls for nuts.
I walk around this place and people look at me and I can read their thoughts. They say to themselves, "Loser, Freak, Weirdo." What they don't know is that if I wanted to I could snatch their eyeballs right out of their empty little heads and snap their necks before they could utter a peep. I don't though. Why? It sure as shit ain't no grounded sense of morality for the sacredness of life. Fuck that. I don't want to go to prison. Why? Because I want to change the fucking world, that's why. And, you can't change the world from prison, now can you sweetcheeks?
Argh! I want to rip, tear, rend, shred, and fuck my way through this world like a man on a mission, a mission from god! I want to slap the face of every cow-eyed drunken gangbanged Sorority girl I see and scream into her cranked out face, "WAKE THE FUCK UP YOU STUPID FUCKING CUNT!" But, I don't. Why? Because, it wouldn't do any fucking good, that's why! I would be wasting my time. And, I have more important things to do with that moment of time . . . like jack off, or watch grass grow, or watch paint dry, or any other completely useless act of boredom.
Know what the bad part is? I have friendlies here that if they read this they would run away screaming in terror . . . . fuckit. You want the truth, this is it. You can't handle the truth, so fucking be it. Live you life, happy and content with your average. I want the penthouse of lifes experiences. At the moment I die, I want to look back and say to myself, "Not fucking bad, bubba." I want the totality of my life to be the journey that I can be proud of.
I know why I can't get laid. I figured it out. I hate playing mind games. If I want to fuck a woman, that's it. I want to fuck. No bullshit, no meandering around the issue, no working up to it. There it is. Flat fact. Pure and simple. Women don't like that. They want to be romanced and all that other bullshit. I haven't got the time nor the temperament for that shit. If you wanna fuck, then fine, let's go. If not, then fine. You wanna be friends, fine let's start talking. If not, then why are you even talking to me? People talk about love. Let me explain this to you people. There is no such thing. It doesn't exist. You find someone whom you can get along with, you can relate to, you can stand to be around, and whom you like to fuck, then ya see how things work out. Love, as most of us know it, is the Hollywood fairy-tale pipe-dream that we have all been sold over the generations to believe in, it's all bullshit. Love does exist, but not like that. Love is hard, love is work, and it is never happily ever after, because life is never happily ever after, ever. I think that is what really pisses me off the most. Here these people are with their heads in the cloud and their dicks in their hands while I am right here on mother earth working my ass off to make something of myself, yet I am looked down upon by these assholes? Fuck that, and fuck you.
They say the world is mean. Well, goddamnit, get meaner. They say the world is full of shit. Well, goddamnit, walk through it and fuck your $125 nikes and your fucking flip-flops. The world is dirty, mean, and ugly and if you don't punch that bitch right in the teeth then you are in for one hell of an ass raping. That or you do what everyone else does and stick your head in the sand and dream of a happy place.
The world at large pisses me off. These girls want to be wined and dined and lied to by some short dicked asshole, but when someone real and original comes along, they run and hide. No one wants reality. They want the fantasy. Well, I am no fantasy, I am as real as they come. I am the blood coated chainsaw blade. I am the dirty condom in the midnight parking lot. I am the dirty little thought that runs naked and covered in green jell-O through the back of your head. I am the shit stain in the underwear. I am the mold growing in the shower stall. I have lived my life in near-poverty back woods, so you can take your ideal ideas of propriety and prosperity and shove them as far up your ass as you can reach and smile while you do it.
I'm tired. Screaming and preaching tends to wear me out. The freak lets go of the mic and crawls back into his filthy lair. I will simply sign off.
J
On the outside I am my mothers son, sweet, goofy, and submissive. On the inside, where it counts, I am one dangerous, crazy, mean motherfucker, just like my dad.
On any given day I am some algamization of the two. Today, right now, I am 100% from the inside. The freak has the microphone and he has something to say, so sit down, shut the fuck up, and listen. I start off kinda slow, but I get things going near the end. Have a nice fucking day!
Sometimes I feel at war with myself. From listening to random people I get the impression that they have a path in life and are not only comfortable with that path but are willing to turn a blind eye to the rest of the world to remain untouched by any outside force that might divert them from that path. No matter what that path might be. They choose to become a stereotype. Someone who can be easily identified, and even more easily dismissed or accepted. Frat boy, Sorority girl, Goth, Nerd, Jock, Stoner, and any other cliche' group that can be thought up. This is not a new phenomenon. This problem exists from middle school to the retirement home. My problem is that I don't fit into any of these groups. I don't want to be described in a one or two word phrase. I just want to be me dammit, and have people, random on-the-street people, either accept, or dismiss, me not for what group I stand for, but for who I am. I do not believe that I am the sum of my parts. I am made of parts, yes, some good some bad, but I am me, an entire whole human being. Take me as I am, whole, complete with all of my faults and my merits or go fuck yourself. Harsh words, I know, and I hate to use them, but I am damn tired and pissed off at people wanting the quick and simple answers as to who I am. Hell, I have no idea who I am. I am still trying to figure that out on a day-to-day basis. This goes all the way back to my first statement. I am jealous of these stereotypical people because they know automatically how to answer any question, how to react to any situation, and how to think just based off of what group they belong to. They have given themselves over to these pre-conceived ideals and ideas about themselves and the world at large, while I have to go though the day struggling the whole time to stay in one piece and not go fucking bonkers. At the same time that I envy those people I can see them for the fools that they are. I am my own person. I am not judged and ruled by some higher order of thought. I am singular, I am special, and apparently some of the rules do not apply to me. Yet the cruel fact is that since I have refused to accept the yoke of conformity I am damned to remain an outcast. Loneliness is my price for originality. At times I am only too happy to pay this toll for my soul, but at times this seems much too high a price to pay. No one should ever have to give up happiness just to be themselves, and conversely no one should have to abandon their individuality just to gain acceptance.
We live in society of subscribers. You either subscribe to this school of thought or that school of thought, leaving very little middle ground. This is were I find myself: the middle ground where there is no middle ground. Everyone else has found a camp of compatriots and are either allies or at odds with other camps, and somewhere in the middle I stand either forsaken or caught in the crossfire.
All of these schools of thought or encampments of the mind all seem to have some core belief or idea to sell that will entice me to join their ranks. What if I don't want what any of them are selling? What if I want to carve my own path to salvation, redemption, happiness. What does that make me? A sketch? A loner? A loser? A freak? What it has made me is sadly desperate and I hate myself for it. I loath almost everything I see around me in the urban-suburbanite pretty-boy hell, but I loath myself even more because I know the only thing keeping me in this state of mind is myself. I have put myself in this situation because dammit I want more out of life than empty pseudo-friendships, one-night-stands, and drunken stupidity. All throughout my life I have demanded my own way. My own self analysis, and sometimes other peoples opinions, is that I am pigheaded, stubborn, or spoiled. I have always had to bow my head from the force of someone elses will. I have had to put my own feelings away and do exactly what someone else has wanted me to do. And, if I didn't? I would get a guilt trip from hell that would leave me feeling like shit. For those of you with parents . . . that should be most of you, you know what I'm talking about. Why should I have to settle? Why should I have to put aside what I want for someone else? Why shouldn't my wants and needs be meet with the same stone faced seriousness that I had to meet their needs and wants with? Why should I be laughed at for wanting what was mine by rights to begin with? If this makes me a spoiled rotten brat, then fine. Fuck it. So fucking be it. That is what I am. I have spent too much of my life bidding my time, waiting for the opritunity to do something with my life, something that I wanted to do with simply because I wanted to. I have spent too much of my life wondering, "Do I really need to do this?", and questioning myself of the consequences of each and every action.
The world is my oyster and by god I'm going to suck that motherfucker down with some atomic fireball hot sauce and chase it with a gallon of beer, naked.
My name is Justin Rentz, this is my manifesto. Join me , hate me, love me, or fight me tooth and nail, but I am going to go through this life of mine wether you like it or not. Get in my way and you will be crushed. I have no time for the timid or the unsure, I have enough of that myself for ten people. I am not at full-steam ahead yet, but the train has left the station and I will chug-a-lug along come hell or high water. This is not a New Years Resolution, or a twelve-step program; this is my deceleration of independence. This is my rant and rave, my vent of super-hot emotional steam. This is the me that lies dormant behind my mask of calm servitude to the masses. This one me, we are many. This is the me that wants out, that demands freedom. He is going to get it.
The world is fucked and full of shit. So be it. Fuck the world. This isn't apathy, this is me pissed off. This is me ready, willing, and able to slash and burn my way through this urban rain forest, and rape, pillage, and plunder the unsuspecting shoreline villages of society. Welcome to my mind. Fucked up ain't it? If this means that I am crazy, so be it. If it means that I will be a loner, a loser, and a freak for the rest of my days, so be it. But, I will be me no matter what. If you don't like me for who I am, or the way I operate, then fuck you and the high handed horse you rode in on. I am real dammit. No faker here, no bullshit either. You get what you see, and if that makes your skin crawl and your stomach turn then good, I've done my job you fucking pussy. If it turns you on and gets you wet, then get on the fucking bed woman cause I'm ten feet of meat with bowling balls for nuts.
I walk around this place and people look at me and I can read their thoughts. They say to themselves, "Loser, Freak, Weirdo." What they don't know is that if I wanted to I could snatch their eyeballs right out of their empty little heads and snap their necks before they could utter a peep. I don't though. Why? It sure as shit ain't no grounded sense of morality for the sacredness of life. Fuck that. I don't want to go to prison. Why? Because I want to change the fucking world, that's why. And, you can't change the world from prison, now can you sweetcheeks?
Argh! I want to rip, tear, rend, shred, and fuck my way through this world like a man on a mission, a mission from god! I want to slap the face of every cow-eyed drunken gangbanged Sorority girl I see and scream into her cranked out face, "WAKE THE FUCK UP YOU STUPID FUCKING CUNT!" But, I don't. Why? Because, it wouldn't do any fucking good, that's why! I would be wasting my time. And, I have more important things to do with that moment of time . . . like jack off, or watch grass grow, or watch paint dry, or any other completely useless act of boredom.
Know what the bad part is? I have friendlies here that if they read this they would run away screaming in terror . . . . fuckit. You want the truth, this is it. You can't handle the truth, so fucking be it. Live you life, happy and content with your average. I want the penthouse of lifes experiences. At the moment I die, I want to look back and say to myself, "Not fucking bad, bubba." I want the totality of my life to be the journey that I can be proud of.
I know why I can't get laid. I figured it out. I hate playing mind games. If I want to fuck a woman, that's it. I want to fuck. No bullshit, no meandering around the issue, no working up to it. There it is. Flat fact. Pure and simple. Women don't like that. They want to be romanced and all that other bullshit. I haven't got the time nor the temperament for that shit. If you wanna fuck, then fine, let's go. If not, then fine. You wanna be friends, fine let's start talking. If not, then why are you even talking to me? People talk about love. Let me explain this to you people. There is no such thing. It doesn't exist. You find someone whom you can get along with, you can relate to, you can stand to be around, and whom you like to fuck, then ya see how things work out. Love, as most of us know it, is the Hollywood fairy-tale pipe-dream that we have all been sold over the generations to believe in, it's all bullshit. Love does exist, but not like that. Love is hard, love is work, and it is never happily ever after, because life is never happily ever after, ever. I think that is what really pisses me off the most. Here these people are with their heads in the cloud and their dicks in their hands while I am right here on mother earth working my ass off to make something of myself, yet I am looked down upon by these assholes? Fuck that, and fuck you.
They say the world is mean. Well, goddamnit, get meaner. They say the world is full of shit. Well, goddamnit, walk through it and fuck your $125 nikes and your fucking flip-flops. The world is dirty, mean, and ugly and if you don't punch that bitch right in the teeth then you are in for one hell of an ass raping. That or you do what everyone else does and stick your head in the sand and dream of a happy place.
The world at large pisses me off. These girls want to be wined and dined and lied to by some short dicked asshole, but when someone real and original comes along, they run and hide. No one wants reality. They want the fantasy. Well, I am no fantasy, I am as real as they come. I am the blood coated chainsaw blade. I am the dirty condom in the midnight parking lot. I am the dirty little thought that runs naked and covered in green jell-O through the back of your head. I am the shit stain in the underwear. I am the mold growing in the shower stall. I have lived my life in near-poverty back woods, so you can take your ideal ideas of propriety and prosperity and shove them as far up your ass as you can reach and smile while you do it.
I'm tired. Screaming and preaching tends to wear me out. The freak lets go of the mic and crawls back into his filthy lair. I will simply sign off.
J
Oh, and love does exisit. I've been lost in it before.