So, November DID suck. All I did was study and apply for jobs.
Which meant everything else in my life halted...completely.
Except, of course, the existential meltdowns. Those come like clockwork. I had a moment the other day where I was lying awake in bed and imagining the fear I will feel at the moment of my death. I could spend my whole life preparing for that moment but, unless I've been indoctrinated into some religion and have blind faith or I'm dying for someone I love (doubtful on both accounts because I don't believe in shit and I don't have a heart), I will be so afraid when the nothingness engulfs me. There is no hope for any of us- none of us get out alive. And there's nothing out there to really provide any comfort.
My best chance is to die for a cause, I think. But what? Politics and religion make no sense to me...so, I'll have to die for a non-cerebral cause, like cute shoes or a bookstore discount. Because we all end up being nothing anyway, so what's the difference? Dying for shoes is as noble as dying for a religion that is full of leaps of faith and no proof because the result is the same: you become nothing.
They will be the cutest fucking shoes on the planet, though. Fuck.
Which meant everything else in my life halted...completely.
Except, of course, the existential meltdowns. Those come like clockwork. I had a moment the other day where I was lying awake in bed and imagining the fear I will feel at the moment of my death. I could spend my whole life preparing for that moment but, unless I've been indoctrinated into some religion and have blind faith or I'm dying for someone I love (doubtful on both accounts because I don't believe in shit and I don't have a heart), I will be so afraid when the nothingness engulfs me. There is no hope for any of us- none of us get out alive. And there's nothing out there to really provide any comfort.
My best chance is to die for a cause, I think. But what? Politics and religion make no sense to me...so, I'll have to die for a non-cerebral cause, like cute shoes or a bookstore discount. Because we all end up being nothing anyway, so what's the difference? Dying for shoes is as noble as dying for a religion that is full of leaps of faith and no proof because the result is the same: you become nothing.
They will be the cutest fucking shoes on the planet, though. Fuck.
So, November looks like its going to suck. School is taking up all of my time and I won't be able to go out and play any time soon. I've been busting my balls trying to get a job until...I thought about the whole cycle of life. Here I am, trying to get a job before I graduate so that I can bust my ass at a job until I retire or die. And That's It. That's really all that life is and it's depressing. Where the hell is the meaning in all of this?
What makes it worse is that I can't feel close to anyone. All I feel is fondness or lust, which just adds to the whole ennui of the situation.
I wish I could reach a point where I could accept the meaninglessness of life but I can't. I still feel cheated somehow.
How do you guys make it through all this crap??
What makes it worse is that I can't feel close to anyone. All I feel is fondness or lust, which just adds to the whole ennui of the situation.
I wish I could reach a point where I could accept the meaninglessness of life but I can't. I still feel cheated somehow.
How do you guys make it through all this crap??
Where the fuck did October go?
This is my favorite time of year; something about the crisp air and the brisk winds stir ancient memories in my soul and I feel connected to something larger than myself; as if my footsteps are crossing over paths I've traveled for lifetimes and there is no need for fear. I can't wait to live in a place with actual seasons.
Anyway, I'm writing because I was feeling a little confused and disappointed the other day. I was thinking rather intensely on me and my life, namely the fact that I really don't feel anything for any one. I don't feel love or hate or anything except mild fondness or annoyance. That's it. This is actually why I do what I do. Fucking one person evokes no response, so how about I try two at a time? Nothing? How about three? Four...? But, while every experience is physically pleasurable and I make some very good friends, I still feel as though I'm watching the entire thing in a soundproof glass room. Everyone can see me, I can see everyone else and I know they're talking to me and it sure does look fun but I'm definitely separate.
I was concerned about my lack of connection. But for now, I'll just take advantage of the situation. Fucking couples or groups of people requires so much less connection, so I can go in undetected. Everyone thinks I care...when I can't.
This is my favorite time of year; something about the crisp air and the brisk winds stir ancient memories in my soul and I feel connected to something larger than myself; as if my footsteps are crossing over paths I've traveled for lifetimes and there is no need for fear. I can't wait to live in a place with actual seasons.
Anyway, I'm writing because I was feeling a little confused and disappointed the other day. I was thinking rather intensely on me and my life, namely the fact that I really don't feel anything for any one. I don't feel love or hate or anything except mild fondness or annoyance. That's it. This is actually why I do what I do. Fucking one person evokes no response, so how about I try two at a time? Nothing? How about three? Four...? But, while every experience is physically pleasurable and I make some very good friends, I still feel as though I'm watching the entire thing in a soundproof glass room. Everyone can see me, I can see everyone else and I know they're talking to me and it sure does look fun but I'm definitely separate.
I was concerned about my lack of connection. But for now, I'll just take advantage of the situation. Fucking couples or groups of people requires so much less connection, so I can go in undetected. Everyone thinks I care...when I can't.
Been horrible at blogging, mainly due to grad school. This semester, I seem to be having a hard time hitting my stride. I think some of it is because, honestly, I should be crazy busy all the time but I'm not...which makes me think I'm missing something important...which makes me think I'm going to fail horribly at life. Kind of a large jump between that second ellipses and the period but that's how my mind works. If A, then FREAK OUT. If A equals B, then FREAK OUT. If A and it seems like you're not doing enough work, then FREAK OUT.
Sometimes, I really wish I could read other people's minds, not because I give a shit about what they're thinking but because I would love to see a real-life example of how a normal brain works. Mine is getting tiresome to me.
Sometimes, I really wish I could read other people's minds, not because I give a shit about what they're thinking but because I would love to see a real-life example of how a normal brain works. Mine is getting tiresome to me.
I am SO craving a regular relationship. While I love threesomes, I'm tired of couples hitting on me. While I love fucking, I'm tired of married men hitting on me. While I love irresponsible sex, I'm tired of hot dead ends. While I love men, I'm tired of being a babysitter/house keeper. I'm tired of nodding my head and pretending that whatever the fuck you say is fascinating just to get you into my bed.
I never thought I'd be sick of being a slut but here I am. Wishing for just one guy who is mature enough not to make me feel like I have to clean up after him all the time.
Nuts how life works...particularly when it comes to nuts in general. Or vaginas.
I never thought I'd be sick of being a slut but here I am. Wishing for just one guy who is mature enough not to make me feel like I have to clean up after him all the time.
Nuts how life works...particularly when it comes to nuts in general. Or vaginas.
I've been consumed by a number of things this past month which has led me to be a little lax in writing. BUT I actually had a thought that was worth writing down today...such a momentous occasion deserves a blog entry. I realized today that the vast majority of the conversations that I have with my friends centers around their dissatisfaction with men. I've got one girl trying to ask a guy out to dinner and wondering why he suddenly AWOL all the time. I've got a gorgeous cousin who is looking for a guy to use for money and wondering why all the men she talks to stop calling her. I've got a sister who is dating a boy who inexplicably turned cold and unfeeling. These are just the ones I could remember off the top of my head. After talking to all these women, I realize that I end up saying the same thing to each of them: some variant of 'you need to be the one to make yourself happy' and 'stop stressing out and just let it happen.' Without fail, my comments get brushed off and my friends proceed to continue more of the same and ending up even more miserable. Yes, my comments are trite but it is so unbelievably true: if you take responsibility for your feelings and happiness- TRUE responsibility- then, you'll be happy regardless of what the men in your life are doing to you and you'll be empowered enough to leave a bad situation with confidence that it is the best choice.
So, there I am, on my mental soapbox, when I realize that...I fucking do the same damn thing. Maybe not with men (I love men waaaay too much to ever be angry with them!), but with exercise, career choices, fiscal responsibility, etc. My friend's 'man troubles' were exactly the same as my own troubles with life. We are all trying to do the same thing over and over again and get different results. What the crap!?
I feel like a little bit of a jerk for thinking that I have things under control just because I don't have any man trouble when my own life trouble is just as bad. Sigh. One of these days, I'll get my ego under control.
So, there I am, on my mental soapbox, when I realize that...I fucking do the same damn thing. Maybe not with men (I love men waaaay too much to ever be angry with them!), but with exercise, career choices, fiscal responsibility, etc. My friend's 'man troubles' were exactly the same as my own troubles with life. We are all trying to do the same thing over and over again and get different results. What the crap!?
I feel like a little bit of a jerk for thinking that I have things under control just because I don't have any man trouble when my own life trouble is just as bad. Sigh. One of these days, I'll get my ego under control.
I do think that I am a little addicted to certain things in life. I don't know why but I will be completely normal one minute and then the next....
I become this sex-crazed slut. There are so many things on my personal sex 'to-do' list and every now and again it calls to me and I just need to answer it...
Everything else in life is so uncertain or convoluted or decidedly neutral. Is it so wrong to live for sex?
Here's another delicious video I found:
I become this sex-crazed slut. There are so many things on my personal sex 'to-do' list and every now and again it calls to me and I just need to answer it...
Everything else in life is so uncertain or convoluted or decidedly neutral. Is it so wrong to live for sex?
Here's another delicious video I found:
I've been soooo bad at blogging lately but reasonably good at journalling. I guess there's only so much writing/thinking about life that I can deal with at any given moment. Two weeks ago, I was in Rhode Island with my beautiful cousin who is about 6 years older than me and much much more wise in the ways of the world. She shared a secret with me that is shocking but seems to be true: Men don't really care if you are nice to them. In fact, men seem to only settle down with and marry women who are actually very mean to them. My entire life, every relationship I've ever had, whenever we get into a fight, I would be internally screaming at myself because I didn't want to cause my partner any pain or discomfort but my cousin's revelation has peaked my interest. I decided to do a little experiment. I decided that the next time my boytoy and I got into a fight, I would try the 'mean' approach. Now, before you get the idea that I decided to swear at him or make fun of him or fight dirty, let me assure you this is not the case. 'Nice' means trying to compromise, admitting your faults and apologizing profusely. 'Mean' manifests itself by demanding he be accountable for the mistakes he made, no apologies granted unless he apologizes first and by realizing, above all, that I can easily replace this particular cock with another cock. I am sad to say that he responded beautifully to my 'mean' approach and very poorly to my 'nice' approach. 'Nice' comes across as 'weak' and we all can't help but hone in for the kill. 'Mean' garners respect. I think, at the end of the day, it really comes down to cultural gender differences. I was always taught that demanding things was so unladylike. Now, I am seeing that a demand that is based on defending your self-worth is really the only way to interact with all others, not just boytoys or husbands or boyfriends or what have you. Very odd. I feel like I've gone a little further down the rabbit hole...and I'm enjoying it immensely.
So, I'm coming to the end of my crazy semester and then I'll be off to Rhode Island to spend time with my family- which is frightening and exciting at the same time. But I am looking forward to having some time to just exist as opposed to scrambling around.
Last night, I struggled again with the Buddha. I've since abandoned goals that I clung to when I was 15 and last night I was struck with a familiar but peculiar sense of purpose-less and depression. I had this idea that the rest of my life was going to be on par with being in a waiting room...the only worthy or real thing I could think of was death, which would come years from now. What do I live for? Do I live merely to wait for death? Because all my other pursuits seemed silly and irrelevant to anything. And the interesting thing was, I was utterly convinced of this 'truth,' a sure sign of self-delusion. I decided deliberately to question my feelings, which seemed so justified and so correct. After a few unsuccessful attempts, I struck gold- I was the one assigning meaning or lack there of it. It was not necessarily an indication of the reality in which I existed. In essence, the reality was a projection of my interior. Normally, at this point, I'd feel something along the lines of 'Man, my shit's fucked up' and 'what the hell is wrong with me' but this time, I broke through illusion and that was all. No psychological paranoia. Just deliberate efforts to work through my illusions towards a state of doubt that is, though uncomfortable, freeing. My mind quieted and I fell asleep suddenly and deeply.
I'm recording this because I need to know what I've done so that I can see the importance of not getting wrapped up in the illusions my mind creates. I'm a very emotional and stubborn person- such clear signs of illusion addiction. I need to remember what happens when I actually challenge these illusions.
Last night, I struggled again with the Buddha. I've since abandoned goals that I clung to when I was 15 and last night I was struck with a familiar but peculiar sense of purpose-less and depression. I had this idea that the rest of my life was going to be on par with being in a waiting room...the only worthy or real thing I could think of was death, which would come years from now. What do I live for? Do I live merely to wait for death? Because all my other pursuits seemed silly and irrelevant to anything. And the interesting thing was, I was utterly convinced of this 'truth,' a sure sign of self-delusion. I decided deliberately to question my feelings, which seemed so justified and so correct. After a few unsuccessful attempts, I struck gold- I was the one assigning meaning or lack there of it. It was not necessarily an indication of the reality in which I existed. In essence, the reality was a projection of my interior. Normally, at this point, I'd feel something along the lines of 'Man, my shit's fucked up' and 'what the hell is wrong with me' but this time, I broke through illusion and that was all. No psychological paranoia. Just deliberate efforts to work through my illusions towards a state of doubt that is, though uncomfortable, freeing. My mind quieted and I fell asleep suddenly and deeply.
I'm recording this because I need to know what I've done so that I can see the importance of not getting wrapped up in the illusions my mind creates. I'm a very emotional and stubborn person- such clear signs of illusion addiction. I need to remember what happens when I actually challenge these illusions.
