Of far away places and half told lies

When it rains I am an intensely happy creature. I can feel the rain waiting to escape the clouds, the cloud bloated with raindrops large and dark, cool breezes running past you whispering the rain is coming, the rain is near. The water droplets come to replenish the parched earth, fill water tables, feed vegetation, symbolically wash away all of the dirty, terrible that has come to coat you. Raindrops absolve me or at least aid in the process of the absolution.

Redemption is a strange concept to some people. Do you need to believe in a deity, a spiritual force or something bigger than yourself in order for the concept of being redeemed to work? Do you have to believe that somewhere, somehow deep within yourself there is something worth saving?-Maybe. Is redemption something limited to those who believe in some kind of supernatural force, no, not at all. That’s what I believe. There are things within us that could save us, if we wanted to or allowed them to save us.

But from what?-Or who? What does absolution and redemption have to do with anything?

Everything.

Everything.

I re examine my life, the choices I’ve made up to this point in time at least a few times a year. I go back over the good, the terrible, the now terribly hilarious in the worst kind of way but was originally world destroying, and the mediocre. I look at the places where I might not have been true to myself, that my sense of self was wearing thin or altogether gone. I shine the light on the parts where I am so myself, that I was so sure of myself that now in the present I still get a shiver down my spine and want to fist pump myself to go : yes you are awesome, fantastic and your own person. Fuck yeah. The complete opposite of that is when I have done things that make me cringe even though I’ve had time to smooth over the edges, to rationalize why I made x decision.

I am afraid that my life will be defined by those moments.  Those moments where I was dishonest with myself, dishonest with the people I was around, dishonest with my life. I am afraid that I will choose something that might not be what I want because it’s expected of me or because it’s what I am supposed to do. Without a doubt, without any sort of posturing or lying it is something that I need to work on more. I need to be more truthful to myself.

You see this is my absolution and my redemption. I am worthy of being able to accept redemption, of being able to grant it to myself. I don’t need someone else to tell me that I’m worthy of being a save able human being. I don’t need or want or require or long for someone else’s “gift” of salvation. I am an intensely independent creature. I do not like it when  someone tries to gift me with that. For some strange reason it makes me feel like they are trying to reduce me, trying to make me less than what I am and shove me into a box that they’ve picked out for me. Yes the box may be pretty but I sure as hell didn’t pick it. Or in most cases consent to it.

My absolution lies in the fact of how I treat people leaves me wanting to be better. To do more. I sometimes do not treat people in the manner they deserve to be treated in. It really varies. Some people get more lee way through the fact that I feel sorry for them, or I feel like I should let them get away with more simply because they’ve worn down some of my defenses. They’ve been tenacious, they refuse to let go or budge, they try to buy me, try to offer the salvation they so want to grant me. They want me to become their creature.They want my autonomy.

And so we come back to the beginning of the circle. Of why I need to give myself redemption, absolution. I can’t be torn in two different directions all of the time. I don’t need to feel like I can just shelf myself or put myself on the back burner because someone who offers “salvation” wants me to behave in a certain manner. It exist in a certain manner. It is no good.

I shouldn’t have to be someone else. I shouldn’t have to feel as though I owe you more than what I’m willing to give because you keep thrusting salvation at me. I shouldn’t have to explain why I am angry when you say or do things that so obviously annoy me, that bother me or just explain you know I’m joking or don’t really believe that. No. No. No. If you have to qualify whatever you’re trying  to say with that, then no. I really don’t have the time, patience or want to be around you.

There are better things that I could spend doing with my time. There are more interesting things I could be learning, that I could be doing instead of being annoyed by you or trolled by you or feeling that my emotions are just things that could be bought.

I am not for sale.

I don’t know how many other times I’ll have to shout it at the world but I am not for sale. Not now, not in the past, not  in the future. It induces feelings of rage when you say that you’re such a nice guy because really you’re not. You make me feel like somehow I’m the fuck up when you sir are a despicable human being.

This is why I grant myself absolution. I can’t carry this any longer. The only person I am responsible for is myself. I do not require another liar ship to be complete as a human being. I just require being true to myself.

Ideally, for the next few months this will carry me into being a better human being. I am changing like always. I need to be myself. I need to be truthful to myself.

À bein tôt

Zed

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Ghosts

When I listen to happy hardcore I am reminded of you. When I listen to Zeromancer, another ghost of lover’s past comes to greet me, remind me of my transgressions then when Rush comes to the party I’m left questioning why I didn’t leave you sooner. Metallic brings me a hollow empty disappointed feeling, why did I ever care enough about you to think that I was special, that you were a decent human being.

And then it comes to me in a screamo cover of Eminem’s “Love the Way You Lie”. It’s because I loved all you despite all of the lies we lived in, loved in. Loving me is extremely difficult, it’s not a walk in the park, there is nothing idyllic about it.

It’s manic, full of passion, feeling, anger, fire. There’s nothing in the middle, it’s either all in or out. It’s something that I’ve figured out about myself, that I really do lack a middle ground. I am the hard guitar riff from a three chord punk song. I am that metal song that is so complicated musically, that gets lost in it and it’s sequences that people call it pretentious. Nobody can really agree what makes it more awesome than pretentious but they all agree it is something neat. Something special.

I am hard to love. It’s true.

I’m going to marry the dark.

À bein tôt!

Zed

 

Greetings again!

I love this video so much right now. It puts into feelings, exposes better than I could. 

I’ve been putting off writing here for awhile. For a long time I just didn’t feel like it, like it wouldn’t make any kind of difference one way or another. Only, it does make a difference. I get better at typing out my thoughts, my ideas and in that I re examine why I believe those things. And how.

I believe that there are different ways to experience things. Which is kinda neat. I don’t think that this blog will ever get a larger readership; however it might have some people who check in from time to time. Maybe I’ll get much better at writing, at typing, at explaining and examining things and people will want to read it. Who knows.

I am hard to get a hold. I am slippery. I make plans and then sometimes social anxiety gets to me. It sucks but sometimes being surrounded by people is a frightening thing. Or the way in which I am dressed suddenly becomes reprehensible; how could I possibly imagine that this would be a good idea to wear. My confidence is fleeting at times. I do like socializing with some people, that’s the crux of all this. There are some people whom I would rather not socialize with though and the way/shape/form I socialize is odd.

I suck at picking up on body language. I know when something is wrong, sometimes with body language but still. It can be awkward when people crack a joke, when it’s encoded within sarcasm or black humor and I get part of it but still. People with body language is odd. Like I can pick up when people are happy and I’m doing what they want, it’s still odd.

I guess it’s like learning another language.

So this semester, along with getting a better GPA I am going to grow some confidence. That doesn’t try to flee at odd moments. What I do know and when I do get things, I get them. I’m that person sitting in the classroom who’s bored out of their skull when they understand what they’re doing, giving more complex answers than what’s warranted and that generally stops any kind of conversation or is so far outside the realm of conversation it’s kind of stupid. I am that person. The idiot savant. You would think that I’d be more self confident more of the time but it’s odd.

Anyways I’ve rambled quite a bit.

À bientôt!

I promise to write sooner again!

Zed ❤

Getting there

So as I sit here, casually attempting to study for a midterm I have tomorrow, I have come to a conclusion. I want to write. That’s all I ever want to do, write, expel words, get lost in a moment of conversing with someone that’s entirely one way.

When I write for assignments, it takes forever to get started. The words refuse to come and instead it’s the blank page waiting. I don’t know for what, since I’m the one that the words come from and if I don’t know what I’m waiting for, what I’m expecting, then the page is no expectation. Maybe something profound, amazing, stellar, something that’s amazing.

So when it is not amazing, stellar but just a start I tend to become rather judgemental. I think, edit away at it to make it sound more polished instead of hashing out the skeleton of what I want it to be and how I want to arrive at that conclusion. Instead it becomes one amazing sentence, a partially developed thesis and then more blank page waiting.

It is as if I am pulling teeth. My own teeth.

It is not fun at all and being not fun at all dissuades me from writing.

I know that I can write. And that it is good, that if it is not good enough for me in that moment then I can always edit more to make it good. My idea of good is very different from other people’s idea of good. I hold my writing to a higher standard because of how badly I fail to communicate with people verbally.

Since I communicate not as well as I liked to verbally, it is essential that I be as clear and send the message that I want to in my writing. Which appears to be a larger problem of why I don’t write as much as I would like to anymore.

The remedy to this, I do believe, is to write small amounts everyday. Then it becomes more useful, more natural. There’s less of an importance placed on it. It does not become this monstrous mountain to climb and overcome.

Well. That’s what I hope anyways.

À bientôt!

Painful

Some days just being, just living, taking another breathe and interacting with people is very very hard. That’s not to say that every day is like this nor should it be, it is just a few of those days infiltrates their way in.

They wiggle about under my skin, whispering bitter nothings and caressing the hidden away from everyone parts of me.  None of this is real, none of this is supportable evidence in wake of the events that have come to be but it all could be.

Sweet delusions whispering falsified information, whispering beliefs long since forgotten.

Or I had thought forgotten.

The little delusional lies don’t stay for very long. Often they’re chased off by the things I perceive as truth, my own self defense mechanisms.

The after effects take longer to escape from. It is a slow kind of agony, purging away the lies, the disappointment, the hurt. The hurt is what takes the longest to escape from. It seeps into every thought, emotion, every word, every little syllable.

It is unfortunate because I am terrible with communicating with people. I don’t know or I don’t feel comfortable at all telling people how I feel. So I wind up keeping it to myself and just being a huddled crying mess later on. How can I explain to you why I hurt so bad when I don’t know how to put it into words? When I feel like I am so disposable and that everything feels like a step farther out than I’ve ever been, not that it’s bad thing it’s just that it’s overwhelming. I need for things to progress slowly because I am bad at change.  And I am hurting.

When I hurt I am much more defensive than normal. Everything seems like it’s a good reason to dispose of me. It’s not that the relationship itself is to blame, it is a bunch of neurosis on my part. When you have been disposed of more than once, for someone who is younger and basically the same looking ( roughly), the worry of being replaced is always there. Despite your best intentions it is a fear that I will have for quite a while more. It is a real fear as I have been replaced, when I wasn’t expecting it. And it gives my hurt a hand hold.

So tomorrow I hope to not hurt as much. I will do the best that I can do to bring light to my dark. And hopefully it will alleviate some of the hurt, if not all of it.

À bientôt!

Hello world!

Another day, another new blog.

What’s this you ask? An outlet for some of the things that go on in my head. Ideas, theories, stories, bits and pieces of this. Occasionally musik, well musik that I enjoy or find interesting. Some vague writing about what is going on my life, the ups and downs of school. What I like, what I do not particularly enjoy about some parts of my classes and in general just school.

I am vague. I am not overly friendly or cuddle filled. I do have my own opinions and beliefs, despite what some people may murmur. I do respect other people’s beliefs, if they respect mine and do not attempt to belittle or actively change long held beliefs of mine. I do judge you if you have very little interest in books or very little respect for learning more about the greater world around you, there. I said it. I am a judge-y snob in some manners.

However I have found in my personal experience that if you do not like either of those things I have very little in common with you. I am an information sponge. I want to learn as much as possible because it helps to shape how I see life. How I interact with people, with creatures, with plants as opposed to believing that I am a member of the dominant species on this planet and that everything else is “lesser” than me. That the only reason why it still exists is to serve my needs, my purposes otherwise it should be eradicated at one extreme and benignly neglected at the other.

I am confusing. I do not make sense at times and I will be difficult. How I approach interactions with people is very much like how sighthounds interact with people : you must have something of value, or you must be worth it in order for me to interact with you. That’s not to say that I am a shallow person, it is that I prefer to interact with people of substance. Or at least people who should have something interesting about them. I am done with having to be nice for niceties sake. I am not  enamoured of how society values a woman’s worth on how polite she is, how courteous she is, how much of a shrinking violet she is.

Burn it all. That is what I say. Burn it and re invent the system in the manner in which you would love to see it. Myself, right now I tiptoe around the camp of anarcha-feminism, as a partial support in some of my views. I told you I would be confusing.

À Bientôt!

ZeD