Is it better to give or to take?
I've usually enjoyed attention, even remote interest in insignificant details of my boring existence. However, I forget to give that attention back to the sources.
So far, my life reads like a vapid emotional dialogue: Me? Me? Me? Me? Me?
26 years now, I've mostly taken. From my family, friends and lovers, I sought attention and comfort. Now it's my turn to give. Too little, too late? Sure, but it is better than not trying.
The selfish majority of my ego asks how I could be satisfied with such 'generosity.' My selfish ego enjoys mocking me. It is also amused when it asks me questions to which I obviously have no answer but are inclined to mutter something to.
Having taken from so many for many years, I know how to keep myself happy, even without asking. So I claim.
The ego guffaws.
I'll still try and even I cannot stop myself. Hold on, it is not going to be easy from here on.
I wonder how my ego keeps himself happy.
It is silent; as I expected.
I have to give it credit nonetheless. It's resilience carried me through numerous rough patches. It gave me a hand, a hug and a smile when I needed it.
Thank you dude. You are a fucking great pal when you are not a dick.
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Indeed I don't know how to love. This includes myself. Much of the issue lies with detection. I don't know when loving happens. No clear sign and no confirmation when I think it happens. Hey, but if people around me can detect it, then why not try loving them. They'll know when they receive it!
Random acts of kindness. (How can kindness be random if kindness is intentional? Incomplete and inchoate phrases and loving it!) I've heard of this phrase. Maybe the person who coined it understands me.
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There are many people whom you simply cannot afford to love. They are too difficult to love, given who you are. But you feel like giving to them nonetheless. You claim it tickles you the right way: makes you laugh but you'd wish it would stop. Mostly, you can almost make people believe that you are enjoying it. What is the harm if nobody knows and hence nobody cares? Mr Ego can come to your rescue as necessary.
I think I've wasted enough time of people I've 'loved' already. Give them what they want the least to so that they can pretend to be happy so you can be really happy then they can be happy. Oh Happy times.
I wonder how many layers of dependent happiness two people can stack before it become difficult to tell? My silliness revealed; story of my life.
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At this point I've erased more than a page of writing I deemed foolish. I just want to point out how dedicated I am to making my life difficult. Can you also tell I spellcheck this blog? Grammar checking is too tough at the moment. Duanersaurus 3.0 is still in the beta phase.
You really cannot start over. I've tried looking for the 'reset my life' button many times in dreams. Video games become much less fun if you don't get to start over whence you falter.
Life is like a game; without the restart, select options/preferences, continue, pause buttons. And hacking life is considered morally offensive. WTF. This is one reason I think God does not really exist. If He/She/It did, not only would I not know what its gender is, I also think that He/She/It would make give these (restart, continue.. blah blah blah) options to make the game of Life much more entertaining to Himself/Herself/Itself. God also doesn't exist because there is too much gender guessing involved.
hfiu weaifu oipwaehfoiashd fkjhasdkl;fhja skljfk.
Sorry, I needed to let out some spontaneously accumulated frustration. Hey, but I got one word in that random keyboard crashing.
I wonder if anyone out there ever has their emotions completely sorted out. I suspect that these people have an entourage of incredible companions who can sustain that illusion of certainty. Me? I have only an unhealthy ego to conjure wisps of such illusions......eh. It sometimes works. No reason to complain.
Friday, May 27, 2005
Monday, May 16, 2005
Still Trying Not to Quit
How many times have I given up? Too many times. This question, given to many others, would probably be answered no differently.
I forget when I first gave up trying. It happened after I was persuaded of its normalcy.
"It is alright to fail once in a while," a voice said.
"Stop being a perfectionist" it admonished.
"Maybe you should focus on what you are good at," the voice recommended.
This voice never explained why I should not try again. It led me to think it was acceptable to surrender in confusion. I would look around for company, hoping my cowardice is common. I focused on what I was good at: quitting.
Giving up became much easier after each "success", since I need not properly justify it to myself. I became proficient at making excuses and distracting myself. It became a habit too soon.
A new phase emerged.
There was once a clear line between things I cared obsessively for and things in which I do not. The line was defined by my willingness to give up: I hated to quit on obsessions.
The line progressed northwards. Obsessions were relegated to interests and then to philosophical arguments about why I should bother. For a time, making excuses were routine. Like a child learning to walk, the initial difficulty disappeared and it became inevitable. Giving up was so natural and forgiving myself for giving up became reflexive. Persistence almost felt wrong.
"Look around, people are giving up too."
I realize that I gave up too willingly. I was unaware of a better alternative to quitting. To keep on trying dammit. A dead end might not be genuine. It doesn't have to stop at a first failure.
Walking off a painful fall does not imply walking away. Stand up; think; march on.
Perhaps life is about trying and not getting anywhere in particular. A hot shower is more rewarding after a long run. A life might be worth more after a long struggle. Moreover, the struggle adds meaning even happiness.
We need reminders that anyone can laugh even in the most dire circumstances. Friends, stories or ice cream; whatever it takes to stand away and laugh at yourself, take a deep breath and dive in ready to give it your best shot again.
Gerbode. She showed me how to laugh in the most inspiring way.
March on, yes I will. This time singing and dancing I will.
There is beauty in everything, and they are not found in the usual places. Wonderment hides where their discovery might be the most rewarding.
Matt Dogg. He showed me how I listen to the words but not the story.
March on, yes I will. This time with my mind open.
Many people pin hopes on their children to accomplish what they could not. Apparently, they have already given up on themselves and the only saving grace is to transfer their dreams to their hopefuls. They know that it is impossible for them to accomplish their own goals before trying again.
I will try never to be such a father. In fact, I might even try never to be a parent since I'm not done parenting myself.
I forget when I first gave up trying. It happened after I was persuaded of its normalcy.
"It is alright to fail once in a while," a voice said.
"Stop being a perfectionist" it admonished.
"Maybe you should focus on what you are good at," the voice recommended.
This voice never explained why I should not try again. It led me to think it was acceptable to surrender in confusion. I would look around for company, hoping my cowardice is common. I focused on what I was good at: quitting.
Giving up became much easier after each "success", since I need not properly justify it to myself. I became proficient at making excuses and distracting myself. It became a habit too soon.
A new phase emerged.
There was once a clear line between things I cared obsessively for and things in which I do not. The line was defined by my willingness to give up: I hated to quit on obsessions.
The line progressed northwards. Obsessions were relegated to interests and then to philosophical arguments about why I should bother. For a time, making excuses were routine. Like a child learning to walk, the initial difficulty disappeared and it became inevitable. Giving up was so natural and forgiving myself for giving up became reflexive. Persistence almost felt wrong.
"Look around, people are giving up too."
I realize that I gave up too willingly. I was unaware of a better alternative to quitting. To keep on trying dammit. A dead end might not be genuine. It doesn't have to stop at a first failure.
Walking off a painful fall does not imply walking away. Stand up; think; march on.
Perhaps life is about trying and not getting anywhere in particular. A hot shower is more rewarding after a long run. A life might be worth more after a long struggle. Moreover, the struggle adds meaning even happiness.
We need reminders that anyone can laugh even in the most dire circumstances. Friends, stories or ice cream; whatever it takes to stand away and laugh at yourself, take a deep breath and dive in ready to give it your best shot again.
Gerbode. She showed me how to laugh in the most inspiring way.
March on, yes I will. This time singing and dancing I will.
There is beauty in everything, and they are not found in the usual places. Wonderment hides where their discovery might be the most rewarding.
Matt Dogg. He showed me how I listen to the words but not the story.
March on, yes I will. This time with my mind open.
Many people pin hopes on their children to accomplish what they could not. Apparently, they have already given up on themselves and the only saving grace is to transfer their dreams to their hopefuls. They know that it is impossible for them to accomplish their own goals before trying again.
I will try never to be such a father. In fact, I might even try never to be a parent since I'm not done parenting myself.
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