Sliding

I wonder about if I am a good person. If I do things that even though they don’t induce feelings of guilt or moral wrongness or sad, if the things that I have done make me a good person. It’s complicated.

The scale of good or bad is an incredibly personal one that changes from day to minute to hour to year. It is constantly in flux, depending on our feelings for that day it might be wholly changed from where it was just a few days ago even. Events that normally would be shouted down in the senate of my brain suddenly stand their grounds, their arguments are suddenly more enlightened, more profound than previously thought. The rate at which the arguments begin to sound reasonable, sound adds to the terrifying mess that occurs later on.

After this apex, the climax of bad decision making (though it isn’t necessarily bad but rather emotional and knee jerk) when the cards have fallen, when the chips fall in their respective places that the question of am I good person makes it’s first appearance.

The question, unlike others in it’s family (What have I done, who is this, why do I have that road sign) is insidious in it’s approach. It approaches innocently enough, normally when you’re feeling well enough. You’re feeling hopeful, strong, like everything is amazing and awesome then it inches into your cortex. It begins to steep, slowly turning those feelings into traitors.

After it has infiltrated enough, it then turns to gaze at you, staring down into your soul. Am I good person, it asks quizzically, eye brow raised slightly bemused. I couldn’t quite tell if it has a serpentine voice or one schooled by corporate public relations coaches.

I am a good person, I say back. In my minds eye I am standing there, in a steam punk sky pirate apparel with a rapier held out. This is who I am, when I need to have fights with myself I arm myself up. I make myself into the person I would love to be, that I am slowly turning myself into since my mind and the insidious question can take whatever form they wish.

I am a good person because I am trying to better myself, that I am constantly evolving to be the best that I can be. I know where my boundaries are, that I don’t give in or turn a blind eye to things that I find or feel are wrong. I uphold my own sense of right and wrong, while aided by what society deems is morally right or wrong while seeing the blind spots within it.

It’s just a little complicated sometimes. And that’s where we find out who we are, in the complications.

À bien tôt!

Zed

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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!

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