A weird funk and a wild solution

It seems like every time I blog, it's always a negative thing. And though this post is no exception, at least it's almost been a year.

A really weird funk is passing over me. It's the kind of funk that doesn't let you decide on the right playlist to sleep with. Do you want something depressing, or maybe something inspiring? Or do you want something loud and obnoxious to help you forget what's going on in your real life? Which is really just the problem. Nothing is going on in my real life.

And I finally realize why I feel this way. I do not, by any means, define myself by how many friends I have in my life. But I do define myself by the quality of the friendship I have in my life, and lately that quality of friendship has been questionable. The way my particular group of friends have been treating me, by no fault of their own, has left me feeling like I'm disinteresting, and like I'm not worth their time. And maybe it's the way I've been acting. I don't know. All I know is I feel undervalued.

And it's not just in my friendship that I feel undervalued in. It's also in my job. I've been working really hard the past seven months, working forty hours a week without a vacation, and I'm getting really tired of it. And I would take a vacation, except I can't. I don't get paid time off, I don't get benefits, I don't get any of it. And I'm getting paid just over half of what I should be getting paid for the work I do.

I just feel like people don't appreciate me. And on top of that, I feel like every similarly gay person I meet out here takes one look at me and writes me off because I'm not enough of one thing or another for them.

And I feel like everything, what with the way customers respond to me at work, and the way my friends ignore me, and the way other gay people look at me, all of these things are forcing me to compensate for each one individually, and I'm forced to act like someone that I'm not every other second, and the stress of changing like that has finally gotten to me. I'm not a happy person anymore. I'm actually quite miserable. I just want to be myself, whoever that is. And I feel like once I start doing that, people will either be forced to recognize me, or forced to write me off, and I have never had a problem with that. If people can't handle me, that's their own problem. I just need to get a foothold on myself again, a jumpstart reminder, if you will, of who I really am. And I think that requires a vacation by myself. This weekend I have three days off in a row, and I plan to take advantage of that.

I'm going to do whatever the fuck I want to do, without worrying about who else sees me, or who else ignores me, or who else writes me off as obnoxious. And who knows? Perhaps something amazing will happen because of it.

Dear First

I thought you were long forgotten, but of course you're not. The memory of you is like a drug, the tears are my high. Every time I feel sad, your face surfaces from the depths of my subconscious, calling out to me, tempting me to join it in the fathoms of depression. And who can refuse your face? I sure as hell couldn't.

I've tried to use this sadness as inspiration for music, but nothing I create can capture the depth of the feelings I had for you. I think it's best to wallow in it for a bit. At least it's easier than pretending I don't care, that I never did. You never did.

It would be easier if it was just the one time. If you were the only one who didn't love me back. What if the second had, or even the third. Then it would have been easier. But of course they didn't. Who would? I wouldn't have.

It's tough. I have to change who I am, be more obvious, more flamboyant, just to convey the possibility that I could be interested in you. But then I'm no longer myself. I'm a different person than I was before, and I hate myself like that. But what's a boy to do? There isn't a right or wrong answer, and I can't blame you for not liking someone you would never have been interested in the first place. But I have to blame someone. Someone has to be responsible for causing me this pain, and it can't be me. I would never be able to live with myself if it was my own fault.

Dear First, it would be so much easier if I could hate you.

Deja Vu round 1

I used to hold merit in Deja Vu.

Believed it a sign I should be with you

But now I know better and so will you.

So will you.

You cornered the cat and you hacked the hive

Unaware of the fiends laying deep inside

No longer content to just sit and hide

And you obliged.

Your consequence - significant.

So painful you'll probably feint.

So fun we can hardly wait.

Your intentions - so deliberate

No amnesty for such as you

You should be grateful that's all we'll do.

Oh I used to have dreams of how this would go

As you once told me, just go with the flow

The ache will subside, oh so pleasurably

At least for me!

On a scale from one, to ten can you

Please tell me where the pain is at?

I fear it will end too fast.

Like Sisyphus you too, my friend

Less than normal amounts of pain

Will be your singular refrain.

Black cats, broken mirrors, who spilled the salt?!

Oh please, mummy deary, it's not my fault.

I had to get off, you know what it's like.

I'm so contrite.

Please spare me the bullshit, you whore

Consider this reciprocation

For the blatant form of condemnation

Of course who am I to judge you, dear?

After all it was my choice as well

I guess we're both going straight to hell

Dear mystery Customer..

Your jaw was a little skewed. It was a little to far to the right when you opened your mouth.
Your teeth were not straight, and there were some gaps between them.
Your eyes were muddied blue, not piercing, and not really deep. They were average.
Your clothes weren't overly impressive, and they didn't really stand out.
All in all, you were just another person who walked into my store.
And yet, you were infinitely greater than the sum of your parts.
Something about the cumulative effect of your eyes, jaw, teeth, face, clothes.. Everything, really, was stunning.
I caught you staring at me. I don't want to read into it.
When I talked to you, you were constantly smiling. I don't want to read into that either.
You asked me about who I was. I don't want to read into it.

I didn't want to. I couldn't help reading into it, anyway.

But, you were buying something for her.

Her.

It's always for her.

How drab.

May my gaze be forever drawn
That I won't see your beauty.
May transgression's seething soothe
That love won't be my folly.

I stared too long upon you
That I saw what wasn't there
The truth was hidden from me
I knew, but did not care.

I saw, instead, what I desired
In all you did to me
Unaware of the timely price
Of unrequition's healing.

May my gaze be forever drawn.

Where did this come from?

How easily is modern man reduced to begging for his life from the clutches of such invisible a foe as a sickness! Oh how shattered becomes the illusion of control we so rigorously annex everything into, that when a contender arises to compete with it, we feel so disturbed by its presence that we resort to total extermination of the merely inquisitive specimen.
Imagine if we were to adopt such a brutal and unforgiving form of politics. Indeed the man who carried out such a goal would be compared to the great bringers of the apocalypse so quickly that surely some esoteric organization, if not a public one, proud of the accomplishment, would destroy the usurper as swiftly as he desired to usurp others.
Do we punish every arrogant senator that deigns to disrupt the unity and continuous flow of society with an outlandish idea? Does his head end up on the chopping block for every misspoken word that leaves his mouth? Do we annihilate him and all those who stand by him for their refusal to accept our views? Does the dissonance their existence creates leave us feeling empty or worthless, like a decaying corpse under six feet of barren earth?
No. In fact, it is this dissonance, this audacity to propose, this unerring nerve to suggest such a new or even retrogressive policy that is so far from what we consider normal, that allows our form of government to accurately judge the true desires of the people.
It is not within our capacity to achieve perfection. Indeed, it is not even within our true desire to do so. Imagine, momentarily, a life where nothing wanted was not given. We would soon learn to want nothing, or else be forced to, by the extremity of our predicament, the same end. Picture a life without sadness, without grief, or without sorrow. Visualize a world without hatred, without pain, without spurn. The ideal of perfection is just that, ideal. It is not beholden to rules or common sense, or even logic. For if one were to apply such restraints on the ideal, such restraints that are, at least at the current time, prerequisites of any idea worth idealizing, it would become dreadfully apparent that without pain, we would have nothing to judge ecstasy besides. Without the deep colorful pangs of hatred, we would never feel so acutely the soaring uplifting notes of love. Without days filled with sadness, we would never understand the sheer blessing that is a day full of joy.
No, it is not within our desire for perfection. So let us instead revel in the imperfectections that make this life so worth our time. For it is only after struggling to achieve that we can truly feel the pride that comes from the achievement. Only after struggling to survive do we understand what it means to be alive. We must change our attitude. We must look at sickness not as a curse, but as an opportunity to once again become healthy. We must gaze into the face of danger and see not our own misfortune, but the luck we have to have been given a test of our own strength. We must spare no thoughts to the forlorn, for our minds were not meant to dwell in such miserable haunts of attitude.
Let us look at the future not as another day that we must fight the raging battle, but as another day in which we can grow to new heights. For the evergreen does not look at the shade of his ancestors and say “I will never achieve such greatness.” No, the evergreen forgets to look at his own shade, but rather turns his attention to the sky in search of new opportunities to grow.
Granted, such a metaphor may hardly seem applicable, for it is through the gift of higher intelligence that we are capable of feeling such complex emotions as worthlessness or neglect, and a tree does not feel compelled to attain such intelligence, and therefore has never felt the heavy presence of depression nor the futility of the abused. But any creature with a soul and any being that struggles to survive in this world and has, is a being that must be praised. For we all can relate to the struggles of survival.

Ooooh something worth posting about!

Well the other night I had an incredibly frightening experience. Similar to a few other experiences I've had in the past; downright disturbing.

So I was bored with too much time on my hands, like usual considering I don't currently have a job, except the odd times that I hold and/or assemble signs. But that's a different story, and I digress.

I was writing a weird short story that was just coming to me off the top of my head while listening to a few celestial sounding songs by m83. It was about someone obtaining Nirvana and having unlimited access to the cosmos and all the energy between matter and just a ton of bullshit like that. It sounded really weird and stuff, but there were a few clever lines here and there.

Anyway, I get to a paragraph describing how he ended up creating the universe by condensing matter, and I think I started typing something with the general theme of "he did this by himself" and BAM! Something else was in the room. My family were all in bed, and the ferrets, the bird, the hamster and the goldfish were in their respective cages. I was completely alone, except for this presence. This heavy, all consuming, dark, being.

I saw something move out of the corner of my eye, and suffice it to say I was freaked out. If you've ever been in this situation before, you know just how I was feeling. If you haven't, I really don't recommend it. It is legitimately the most frightening thing I've ever experienced.

Well, I went to the bathroom to brush my teeth and get ready for bed in the hopes that I would forget about the feeling I had. It helped, I was able to calm myself down, and the presence had dissipated. After I put my retainer in, I walk back to my computer, to re-read what I've written so far. I was hoping that I had just imagined whatever it was that I had felt. It seemed I had, because the whole time I was reading, I felt perfectly fine. However, the second I started reading from that paragraph again, the feeling was back. The presence returned. Whether it was warning me to stop writing, or egging me on, wanting me to finish the thought, I wasn't sure. All I know is that single paragraph was provoking this unwanted feeling, and it was petrifying.

There's only been one other time that I've felt something like this before, and it too was equally as scary, if in a slightly different way.

I had been staying up late reading about children with enhanced psychic capabilities, something I was vastly interested in at the time, when I realized exactly how late it really was. So, I did the usual routine of turning on my "sleep" playlist (the songs of which have over 300 plays each) and curling up to go to sleep.

I was able to sleep, but rather restlessly. I kept waking up, but not randomly. It seemed like, for some reason, I would wake up to the parts of the songs that had the weirdest lyrics. Things that made sense when put in the context of the song, but to the disconnected and foggy brain of the sleeper, sounded just plain creepy. I remember one of the parts was something along the lines of "We'll be together, just you and I alone" or something with the same general insinuation. And this happened multiple times, in numerous different songs. I kept dismissing them as nothing, things that didn't really mean anything. Y'know, just coincidence.

Well, I woke up again, and I could tell instantly something was different. My room was completely dark. And there was something else in the room, perhaps multiple things. The atmosphere was so heavy, I could not even comprehend it. I was absolutely petrified, completely incapable of movement. The only thing I could do was shut my eyes and focus on not focusing on the presence.

It didn't work. I could feel it trying to get into my head, like some sort of ethereal demon. I could hear the lyrics from before, the creepy "all alone, just me and you" stuff echoing around inside of my head. There were a few moments where I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that if I stopped resisting, the thing would have won and taken over. It was about that time that I started praying. There was nothing else I could do, I couldn't leave my room, because I knew it was standing between me and the door, and sitting there was not a viable option either. So I prayed.

Eventually the presence receded, and I felt safe enough to open my eyes. For the rest of the night, I kept my lamp on and I just watched youtube videos on my computer.

Anyway, those are two of the most frightening, if not the top two most frightening moments of my life. Even thinking about them right now, I got chills multiple times. Some people don't believe in the paranormal. I think those people are just not as sensitive to it. I'm not saying I'm a really sensitive person, because I don't think I am, and I definitely would not want to develop the slight ability I have to sense that sort of stuff. But anyone who says that stuff like that doesn't exist has just never been in the same sort of situation.

It's real.

No joke.