A few days ago, I posted an entry in my two journals spotlighting the decline of interest in relationships. Some of you hated it. Some of you were bored to tears. Some of you were driven to tears. But some of you really enjoyed it and the responses I gained from those people really opened my eyes to the possibilities this journal holds for me. My voice is the most important aspect of the current manifistation of my personality.
And honestly, I liked making people cry. Horribly honest or horrible AND honest? You're the judge here. But I'm not going to make this entry long-winded, since I'm sure there are some people who prefer I use this space to talk about how depressing my life is or whatever movie/videogame has been taking up my time.
So here are a few observations of things that are bothering me at the moment:
---are our lives really self-inflicted? Was I really right when I said that even the smallest actions we make define how our lives become? Sometimes, it seems as if our lives reflect our moods. We wake up, angry at the world for sometimes small reasons and then we make toast. As the bread is darkening, we look in the refridgerator and find that we're OUT OF BUTTER! We yell and scream and break things, thus causing ourselves even more anguish, since we just broke our girl/boyfriend's prize guitar/stereo/cat. And then there are the days we wake up, feeling refreshed and come downstairs and it's as if the heavens themselves open up and a host of angels lead us by hand the fridge and lo and behold! we forgot we bought bagels and this rad strawberry-flavored cream cheese the other day.
My question is this: do our lives really reflect our negativity/positivity? Or are there really outside forces? Not God, per se, but even just the smallest of beings. Maybe, though we complain and are lambasted for being accusers, people really ARE the cause of some of our problems.
I wrote a book, as most of you know, called Self/Inflicted that offered this question: was the main character's problems his own fault or was he just following a route that was judged by the actions of others in his life? My conclusion, years ago when I wrote it and was feeling pretty negative (writing a book called Self/Inflicted about a character based on yourself that attempts suicide can have that effect), was that all the things that happened in his life were his own fault. He didn't have to trust that girl who eventually cheated on him. His own actions in that relationship most likely drove her to cheat on him. And in the book, I come to that conclusion, as horrible as it seems: that the actions he made were tearing his life apart.
But is it really that cut and dry? I'm not ranting here because I have an opinion. The purpose of this rant wasn't an answer, but another question. I'm not sure I was right. I'm not sure it was really any of our faults that some of the things in life that hurt us were completely our faults.
---can a job truly be considered a material item? When did we throw character and actions out the window and start judging people on their jobs and/or education? I was never accepted to any prestigious university (partly because I was too lazy to apply in the first place...see above) and yet I have to live with the fact that I'm 24 years old now and I'm too old to be accepted to Harvard or Yale. I have to live the rest of my entire life knowing I graduated from a community college. And yet, I could still find a good job that pays college-level wages if I wanted to forget my pride and work in a disgusting, moral-less factory (again).
But I don't. I work in fast food. And I make nearly the same amount as someone who does work "a straight job". When people judge me on my occupation, they see "Burger King" and immediately think: minimum wage, flipping burgers, dead end job, no future. But it's not like that at all, regardless of my position at my job (which will soon be making 40k a year). That 40k will pay off my debts, get me back in school full time, and fund the second book. But until then, I'll have to deal with people perceptions that I'm lazy. That I'm not trying hard enough in life. And that, if I were only like [fill in the blanks] and graduated higher learning, then I would be doing something I enjoyed right now. Because regardless of wages, over the years, even management in fast food places brings up perceptions of lazy people, trapped in an endless struggle, in lives that don't make them happy.
But I laugh every 3 minutes at my job because I'm working with people I've helped hire and who share the same interest as me. And yet, the people who judge me work in grey environments for 14 hours a day with people they can't stand.
Now who's the loser?
---finally, does our sex truly help dictate who we are? Why is it that a woman who watches sports, drinks hard, and burps is considered a "keeper" (at least from the perspective of Foster's), and yet a guy who hates sports, loves art and music, and cries at movies is automatically "creepy"? Or "sensitive"? I know a friend who is exactly as the man above, and yet is the most horribly mean, lying, cruel person you could meet. There is no sensitivity there. Women sometimes complain about the equality of the species, yet women can do everything they do, plus what a man does (especially kiss other women). But men are judged if they don't follow the three simple male rules: love sports, hate art, don't let women talk back. If you don't follow the rules, you're gay. No matter what, the second you don't follow those three rules, you're automatically looked at from the corner of people's eyes and labeled gay.
(I should note that I was a bit nervous to post this question, considering that I, too, am afraid people will think I'm gay for even discussing this topic...but I pay to be at this site and see hot, naked goth and punk girls...if there was anything that dictated my sexuality, I'd have to say tattooed women with pierced nipples truly make me realize just how straight I really am)
This is my question: why the fuck are most other men so damn scared of being called a "fag"? Is it true that most men are repressed homosexuals? Why are men so scared of just liking what they like? In my opinion, you can go to any extreme and not be judged as gay. You could walk in wearing a pink shirt that said "Princess" or "Angel" on it, demand that Le Tigre be played on the stereo, and then start drinking wine coolers...but as long as your mind is on how very attractive that girl with the dark hair and blue eyes at that table looks, then who's to say you're gay?
You may be having sex that night and the "real men" are going home to choke one eyed Mr. Broccoli.
And honestly, I liked making people cry. Horribly honest or horrible AND honest? You're the judge here. But I'm not going to make this entry long-winded, since I'm sure there are some people who prefer I use this space to talk about how depressing my life is or whatever movie/videogame has been taking up my time.
So here are a few observations of things that are bothering me at the moment:
---are our lives really self-inflicted? Was I really right when I said that even the smallest actions we make define how our lives become? Sometimes, it seems as if our lives reflect our moods. We wake up, angry at the world for sometimes small reasons and then we make toast. As the bread is darkening, we look in the refridgerator and find that we're OUT OF BUTTER! We yell and scream and break things, thus causing ourselves even more anguish, since we just broke our girl/boyfriend's prize guitar/stereo/cat. And then there are the days we wake up, feeling refreshed and come downstairs and it's as if the heavens themselves open up and a host of angels lead us by hand the fridge and lo and behold! we forgot we bought bagels and this rad strawberry-flavored cream cheese the other day.
My question is this: do our lives really reflect our negativity/positivity? Or are there really outside forces? Not God, per se, but even just the smallest of beings. Maybe, though we complain and are lambasted for being accusers, people really ARE the cause of some of our problems.
I wrote a book, as most of you know, called Self/Inflicted that offered this question: was the main character's problems his own fault or was he just following a route that was judged by the actions of others in his life? My conclusion, years ago when I wrote it and was feeling pretty negative (writing a book called Self/Inflicted about a character based on yourself that attempts suicide can have that effect), was that all the things that happened in his life were his own fault. He didn't have to trust that girl who eventually cheated on him. His own actions in that relationship most likely drove her to cheat on him. And in the book, I come to that conclusion, as horrible as it seems: that the actions he made were tearing his life apart.
But is it really that cut and dry? I'm not ranting here because I have an opinion. The purpose of this rant wasn't an answer, but another question. I'm not sure I was right. I'm not sure it was really any of our faults that some of the things in life that hurt us were completely our faults.
---can a job truly be considered a material item? When did we throw character and actions out the window and start judging people on their jobs and/or education? I was never accepted to any prestigious university (partly because I was too lazy to apply in the first place...see above) and yet I have to live with the fact that I'm 24 years old now and I'm too old to be accepted to Harvard or Yale. I have to live the rest of my entire life knowing I graduated from a community college. And yet, I could still find a good job that pays college-level wages if I wanted to forget my pride and work in a disgusting, moral-less factory (again).
But I don't. I work in fast food. And I make nearly the same amount as someone who does work "a straight job". When people judge me on my occupation, they see "Burger King" and immediately think: minimum wage, flipping burgers, dead end job, no future. But it's not like that at all, regardless of my position at my job (which will soon be making 40k a year). That 40k will pay off my debts, get me back in school full time, and fund the second book. But until then, I'll have to deal with people perceptions that I'm lazy. That I'm not trying hard enough in life. And that, if I were only like [fill in the blanks] and graduated higher learning, then I would be doing something I enjoyed right now. Because regardless of wages, over the years, even management in fast food places brings up perceptions of lazy people, trapped in an endless struggle, in lives that don't make them happy.
But I laugh every 3 minutes at my job because I'm working with people I've helped hire and who share the same interest as me. And yet, the people who judge me work in grey environments for 14 hours a day with people they can't stand.
Now who's the loser?
---finally, does our sex truly help dictate who we are? Why is it that a woman who watches sports, drinks hard, and burps is considered a "keeper" (at least from the perspective of Foster's), and yet a guy who hates sports, loves art and music, and cries at movies is automatically "creepy"? Or "sensitive"? I know a friend who is exactly as the man above, and yet is the most horribly mean, lying, cruel person you could meet. There is no sensitivity there. Women sometimes complain about the equality of the species, yet women can do everything they do, plus what a man does (especially kiss other women). But men are judged if they don't follow the three simple male rules: love sports, hate art, don't let women talk back. If you don't follow the rules, you're gay. No matter what, the second you don't follow those three rules, you're automatically looked at from the corner of people's eyes and labeled gay.
(I should note that I was a bit nervous to post this question, considering that I, too, am afraid people will think I'm gay for even discussing this topic...but I pay to be at this site and see hot, naked goth and punk girls...if there was anything that dictated my sexuality, I'd have to say tattooed women with pierced nipples truly make me realize just how straight I really am)
This is my question: why the fuck are most other men so damn scared of being called a "fag"? Is it true that most men are repressed homosexuals? Why are men so scared of just liking what they like? In my opinion, you can go to any extreme and not be judged as gay. You could walk in wearing a pink shirt that said "Princess" or "Angel" on it, demand that Le Tigre be played on the stereo, and then start drinking wine coolers...but as long as your mind is on how very attractive that girl with the dark hair and blue eyes at that table looks, then who's to say you're gay?
You may be having sex that night and the "real men" are going home to choke one eyed Mr. Broccoli.