5.28.2010
Busy Life
I get so upset at life sometimes, and I’m not hard to please. Everyone is so ME oriented. Or maybe I’m just too OTHERS oriented. No person dares say they’re sorry. Not one says they know how you feel. Not one says, "thank you" (at least not enough). Not one says, “what’s on your mind?" Everyone's so quick to counter with their problems; I’ll actually listen, but just hear my side in exchange. Shared experiences make us stronger. We’re all more similar than we think. I hate: “I cant talk about it, you won’t understand”, “This is different, you don’t fucking get just how serious this is”, “I have no time for you, seriously no time, I am busy every minute of every day, not one second in my day is worth your time, I’m so busy with my life that not only can I not listen to you, but I can’t tell you what’s wrong with me”, “why are you so serious all the time, I just want to drink right now, shut up”, silence… no response… silence… even after simple inquires, humorous texts, calls, emails, silence, acting like things are good when the other knows that you should no way in hell even make eye contact, but you do, in fact you engage them like nothing happened. But why? No one is that unique, or that busy.
1.24.2010
Irony?
“I enjoy writing about my own life, but I don’t like people knowing anything about me”
That was a sentence in a book I just finished reading and an inspiration to the written material that follows. The book was, Eating the Dinosaur, by C. Klosterman, but I only include that info to credit the source. In no way am I trying to appear smart or elitist because I sometimes choose to read in my free time.
First, I do like to write. Second, I like to write about my own life because that’s the life I know and I hope others can relate to it. I often enjoy writing about other topics as well, but these topics are almost always assigned for school or work. (Maybe I should just start to pick a random topic and write about it; this remains a possibility.) I find these assigned writings less rewarding because no one other than your boss or Prof. reads it. And if someone else did read it and told you it was “good” they would most likely be lying because they would undoubtedly not care and/or possibly even comprehend what the fuck I was even writing about. (A recent topic for example: how to properly foreclose on a security interest in intellectual property… I mean I don’t even give a shit about that, but it doesn’t mean that I didn’t enjoy writing about it in a clear and concise manner). But why should I care who eventually reads it anyway? Do I need to feel appreciated?
On to my next point (thirdly) I really don’t want people to know anything about me. I mean, why would they care in the first place? Or maybe I do want people to know some things about me, but just not everything. Mystery is important. If someone theoretically knew everything about you, every single experience, and each thought you ever had, you’d cease to be interesting to that person. Yet, I know I don’t want to actively control my own self-image by selectively revealing information that conforms with a certain character that I want to project to the world. If you ask me a question I will give a full, complete, and accurate answer. But I really would rather not openly reveal everything without being asked first.
That was a sentence in a book I just finished reading and an inspiration to the written material that follows. The book was, Eating the Dinosaur, by C. Klosterman, but I only include that info to credit the source. In no way am I trying to appear smart or elitist because I sometimes choose to read in my free time.
First, I do like to write. Second, I like to write about my own life because that’s the life I know and I hope others can relate to it. I often enjoy writing about other topics as well, but these topics are almost always assigned for school or work. (Maybe I should just start to pick a random topic and write about it; this remains a possibility.) I find these assigned writings less rewarding because no one other than your boss or Prof. reads it. And if someone else did read it and told you it was “good” they would most likely be lying because they would undoubtedly not care and/or possibly even comprehend what the fuck I was even writing about. (A recent topic for example: how to properly foreclose on a security interest in intellectual property… I mean I don’t even give a shit about that, but it doesn’t mean that I didn’t enjoy writing about it in a clear and concise manner). But why should I care who eventually reads it anyway? Do I need to feel appreciated?
On to my next point (thirdly) I really don’t want people to know anything about me. I mean, why would they care in the first place? Or maybe I do want people to know some things about me, but just not everything. Mystery is important. If someone theoretically knew everything about you, every single experience, and each thought you ever had, you’d cease to be interesting to that person. Yet, I know I don’t want to actively control my own self-image by selectively revealing information that conforms with a certain character that I want to project to the world. If you ask me a question I will give a full, complete, and accurate answer. But I really would rather not openly reveal everything without being asked first.
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