Wonderings and Wanderings|
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|Friday, May 15th, 2015|
|Literary Poop Criticism Poop
I wanted to write something here up top because I realize how depressing that last entry was. Here's a less depressing entry.
Um, hmmm. What do I say? I could write about the new book I'm writing, but - as I said in an earlier entry - writing about writing is boring. It's really weird that there's actually an entire field of academia devoted to writing about writing. Y'know - literary criticism and all that. I think the boringest thing in the world is literary criticism. Y'know, boring old prose writing, where the writers are commenting on other people's writing.
Now, I've just offended the entire literary criticism community. Maybe lit crit wouldn't be so bad if it was more well-written. I mean, maybe it'd be less boring if it was easier to read - but it's really hard writing to read, so I get bored right away. Sometimes, I think people write all this convoluted shit (y'know, all that post-modern stuff) so they can sound smart. Because if they wrote clearer prose, people would actually know what their writing was about. If people knew what their writing was about, they could actually question the concepts being talked about.
But the way that kind of stuff is written, people probably think, "Oh I don't understand - this must be about big, complicated, important stuff, cuz it's so complicated and hard to read." In reality, it's possible that the concepts they're writing about are really simplistic. But we'll never know, because the writing is too effed up for anyone to ever ever ever ever know what it's truly about.
|Tuesday, May 12th, 2015|
Now I feel all dumb because that last entry was not well-written, but I'm too lazy to go back and change it. All I want to do is take a nap right now. That's all I want to do. That's all I want to do at all these days is sleep and sleep and sleep some more. It makes me wonder if I should go see a doctor about it, but part of me doesn't care. Nope, no. It's annoying but part of me doesn't care. Maybe it's depression because depression can make you tired and not care.
The depression piece does sort of make sense. And I can see why I'd be depressed right now. And I am tryin' to make some changes in the spheres where if things changed, maybe my mood would improve. But I think sometimes you get to the point where you just don't give a fuck about anything anymore. Wanting your life to be a certain way and having it not be that way totally fucking sucks. Having your life not look the way you wanted it to and not giving a fuck is a much better option. I think I'll stick with that option.
The I-don't-give-a-fuck option makes everything all tired and murky-brown, but it's a murky brown you can live with because it's everywhere. You're not wishing it could be pink anymore because you know that option is no longer available to you. So you just learn to sit in tired and murky brown and get used to the idea of it. Get used to the fact that things're not gonna get better because wanting them to be better never ever ever ever once did me even a teeny tiny little bit of good.
No, I'll sit in murky brown and just try to look at the stillness of it. And it doesn't matter, anyway, because even people with Barbie Doll Dream Houses of Desire lives are gonna end up in the same place as me ultimately. Dead. We're all gonna die.
Dang, I never did finish my thoughts on the whole sweat lodge issue because I had to get back to work. I think what it all comes down to is: am I a bad-guy? Am I one of the bad guys in this situation? Dang, man.
It's still so very hard because I can still see it as being tacky, white people doing Native American spiritual practices and such. I can see how people would see it as tacky, y'know. Here, us white folks didn't do all the suffering that Native American folks did at the hands of white people, no less. And then we get to go and benefit from all their traditions, when it's our very own ancestors that made them do suffering and took away their traditions and all that.
I dunno, man. I should be working on paperwork right now. I haven't thought about the sweat lodge thing in a while, even though I'm planning on going to one this Saturday. The person running it is actually half Native American, it sounds like. And part Celtic, too.
Is it a bad thing I'm doing? Dunno, man. Ed McGaa, a Native American guy, he says that it's good for white people to do Native American spiritual practices, cuz - I forgot exactly why, but it was good.
I guess not everybody has the same opinion on the topic, or all that. It's just ironic and weird that this affinity I have for Native American spiritual traditions (and I have no idea where this affinity comes from) is something that might make me look bad in the eyes of at least some Native American people.
And who knows? Maybe I am tacky. It's strange to think, but I'm not always the good guy. I can be the bad guy because not everybody is good all the time. I didn't want to be bad in this instance cuz it makes me feel dumb. No, I didn't want to be bad.
|Thursday, April 23rd, 2015|
Now I'm all confused. The sweat lodge I used to go to, it recently got alot of flak from people in the Native American community, who were pissed and said white people shouldn't do sweat lodges (even though the person who runs it is actually part Native American - oh well).
I'm all confused now. It's not a thing where I feel I can easily take any side because um, wait.
Like there're lots of people in the Native American community (which is kind of a dumb word, becase it's not just one community. IT's a bunch of different indigenous cultures, but whatever) that say other people shouldn't do sweat lodge ceremonies cuz it's cultural appropriation or something like that.
Like, they say it's stealin' from them, I think, or something like that. Like it's taking a sacred tradition and doin' something unsacred to it.
Well, I don't know all the arguments, but one compelling one was, if you're not a Catholic priest, you can't just hold a Catholic mass in your garage and hand out saltines and Kool-aid and call it a Catholic mass with a communion. It would be something entirely different from a Catholic mass. It'd be a guy in a garage with saltines and kool-aid. And this person said same goes for sweat lodges. If you have a tent in your back yard, and go through all the motions, can you really call it a Sweat Lodge, if you're not one of the people who originated the practice? I don't know. That actually is a really compelling argument, actually.
I dunno. I mean, I know I've benefitted greatly from the lodges I've gone to, and I really feel a lot of resonance with the ceremony. Like it's a good fit for me, y'know? The person who does
em, white as she is, actually was trained by Native Americans on how to do it - Lakota Sioux, I think. So the ceremony, itself, did stick pretty close to how it's s'posed to be, although she changed it up a bit, as well.
I dunno. She got this angry response from AIM, I think it was, but she met with a guy from AIM, and they worked out a solution; I'm glad, cuz I'd be sad if she didn't get to do that cereemony anymore.
Now it's called a Spiritual Sauna.
I felt sad that it can't be called a sweat lodge anymore, and yet, I can understand (well, not directly because I haven't experience it directly) how a people can be trampled on and treated like shit for years. How our country tried to eradicate all their cultural traditions and all that. And then all these tacky new age white people come along and start doing their traditions. It seems like a painful irony and all that.
And I'm torn because I love the sweat lodges I've been to and I don't feel like they did anyone any harm. I mean, like, the person who runs them is really safe about making sure nothing bad happens - not like that one in AZ where people died.
Yup, I'm torn. I'm so torn. To be someone who benefitted greatly from a ceremony, the very act of which some people deem as an act of violence to a culture that's been mistreated (or I should say a bunch of indigenous cultures).
|Wednesday, April 1st, 2015|
Um, like, when am I gonna stop having bad weeks? It seems to be an ongoing phenomenon. Maybe it's a dumb karma thing, in which case I must be burning off lots of poopy-bad karma from past lives and shit. Shitfuckpoopfartspoops.
Damn, I wish I had something interesting and fun to write about. I started revising Volume 2 a few weeks ago. That's not to say that I didn't spend about a year-and-a-half revising the fucker. But this is the new round of revisions.
It was odd. This past weekend, I revised this one page, and it sang to me. It was probably some of the best work I'd done in my whole life. That might be an exaggeration, but it's not much of one. I was trying to re-draw the sucky drawlings and it was all looking like shit. Then I realized I was trying to do the drawerings the way I'd wanted them to look back in 2011, instead of drawling what my 2015 self would draw. Then I tried doing the latter and it rocked, man. It totally rocked.
Fuckity fuck. I'm waiting for the boom to get lowered on the recent mistake I made. Or I'm not sure if I used the right expression there. The something. The repercussions and whatnot. I might get yelled at, even. I didn't mean to make this mistake and now it's eating at me. Fuckity fuck.
I realized if I'm a shitty therapist, I'm gonna be a miser for the next few years and build up an Empire of Money, so I can move somewhere there's trees and do something else other than doing therapy. My dream job would be manufacturing cuz I wouldn't mind just putting parts of things together all day long, and then go home to do stuff I actually care about. Too bad there's no such things as jobs like that, and you either gotta be a professional, which I suck at, (seriously, I suck at all things professional, I'm discovering) or you gotta do some service type of job where mean customers yell at you and make you feel like shit.
This is a dumb time period to live in.
|Friday, March 27th, 2015|
Oh, dear, what, oh my.
A few months back, I realized I felt frumpy walking around in my running shoes, so I decided it was time to buy black sneakers to walk around in. I mean, nothing against my running shoes - they look great when I'm running. But I felt frumpy wearing them with jeans.
So I thought I'd get me some Chuck Taylor shoes. Converse All Stars. The reason for that was 1. they're such a standard shoe that they never go comnpletely out of style and 2. there's this movie where this hot guy wears 'em, and I wanted to wear the same shoes as the hot guy.
So I bought them. And I started wearing them. Then, in recent weeks, I started noticing tons and tons of teenage girls and girls probably in their 20's were wearing the very same shoes. I'm all, what??????????????
So now I feel all self-conscious in my sneakers because everybody's gonna think Old-Crone-Me is one of those ladies who tries to look all hip and young, wearin' the types of clothes young girls wear. You know the type. Hot pink spandex wearers, all that. I'm all, NOOOOOOOO!!!!!! That's not me! I never wanted to be young-girl-hip-and-trendy!!!! I just wanted the kind of shoes that hot guy wore in that movie.
Oh, well. I'm gonna wear them, anyway.
|Thursday, March 26th, 2015|
Now I'm eating a Snickers bar. It's 2 candy bars in one wrapper so you can save one for later. I'm not sure if I'll have the discipline to save one for later. I might eat them both at the same time. The only problem with eating chocolate at work is it's messy. Oh, dude. I cain't believe I started my own business. I never wanted to be a business man. Or woman, for that matter. Ne'er. And yet, here I am. A business man (or woman).
That's some fucked up shit, dude, because even though here I am, a newly minted businessman/woman, I still don't wanna be abusinessmanwoman. I just want to do psychology poop. All I wanted to do was psychology poop. But in order to do psychology poop, sometimes you have to go into business. I dunno. Maybe I'll find a job for my Wednesdays, cuz that's the one day of the week my office space ain't available to me.
There's so much to this businesspoopyshit that I think I'll get an accountant (which I should do anyway) to make sure I don't do some illegal shit like accidentally embezzle from myself. That would be bad. I'm really afraid of embezzling from myself accidentally and having to go to jail cuz the IRS can bust you for that kind of shit. Yeah, I really hope I don't embezzle from myself and end up having to go to jail cuz that would be really bad.
|Friday, January 23rd, 2015|
|Thursday, January 8th, 2015|
|Sunday, December 21st, 2014|
|Tuesday, December 16th, 2014|
|Down Time Poopy-Poopy-Ones
I have some down-poopy-time-poopy-poopy-ones, so I thought I'd post a blog post in order to fill the time. I also thought to myself it would be a good idea to take advantage of this down time in order to post something that wasn't something I had a beef about.
I guess yesterday's post didn't have any beef in it, either, so that's a good thing. And the post before that was about The Sketchmobile, and I don't mind the presence of The Sketchmobile in my life at all. Not at all.
It's raining, and this state needs the rain, that's for sure. Although I feel bad for all the people whose houses got messed up in the mudslides and all that.
Crappity crap, I feel like I cain't think of anything to write about. There's one good thing that happened, but I feel like if I put it into words, I might jinx it, and I don't want it to go away. My head feels tired.
Poop, no I cain't think of anything to write about. I feel all jammed up and all blocked up, too. What should I write about? A really horrible thing happened in Pakistan in the news today. It made me really sad or horrified or something. I was alerted to it because a friend posted something about it on Facebook today. You always know what really major major events have happened in the world if something got posted on Facebook. If people're only posting pictures of puppies and stuff like that, there might not be anything major happening in the world.
But it's fucking crazy. I don't really know what's happening to the world and all its people. it feels like the world has gone absofuckinglutely nuts. What's going on? What's going on, man?
And then like I lookit the really-bad story in Google News, and I feel all horrible for humanity. And then I go back to facebook and friends are posting all this nice stuff about wisdom, and then a teeny tiny ray of hope shines through again. It makes me almost want to cry, because it helps to be able to see that there're all these really good people in the world that wanna make it better, y'know. They're people who're not perfect or anything like that; like me, they're just doin' the best they can. That's a good thing. It's a contrast, I guess you could call it.
I dunno, man. I dunno, dude. I dunno what to think about anything.
I used to draw mean comic strips, but now I don't do that anymore. I think a while back, i decided it wasn't a good idea to do mean comic strips, although I know back when I did 'em, it was just to process mean stuff other people did to me. But these days, I don't wanna do that, y'know. There's something about it - I can't quite put my finger on it. I think it hearkens back to that one blog entry I wrote years ago, where every little mean thing you do contains every other mean thing ever done in it. It makes you think a lot.
|Monday, December 15th, 2014|
I was at the place where I work today, and this girl comes in with this little doggie. I think the doggie was a scottie doggie or something along those lines. The little dog made a beeline for me, and then just leaned his head on me. It was as if the doggie was seeking some kind of comfort. It was very odd because I've seen the dog from time to time, in passing, and all that, but this is the first time I've petted him or anything like that. I wonder why he was comin' to me for comfort. Huh. Odd.
Sometimes I'll meet an animal and the animal will be all "I love you" even though I've never seen that animal before. I always think "why do you trust me, little animal? You don't know me." But then I re-remember that animals are a lot smarter about knowing who to trust than people are. I wonder how they do that. Is it a psychic ability? Or do mean people just smell a certain way? In any event, it's reassring to know animals like me, y'know. Cuz it means I'm not mean.
|Friday, November 7th, 2014|
Okay, okay, okay, this is it. I'm posting something when I'm not in the mood to rant about something I'm pissed off about. Yay!
I dreamed a few days ago about a car, and I ended up nicknaming it The SketchMobile. Now I laugh every time I think of The SketchMobile. I should probably draw a picture of it. I probably should do that. It was funny cuz I was kind of scared in the dream, because I didn't know what the occupants of The SketchMobile were gonna do, you know? But then, I woke up and wrote down some stuff about The SketchMobile, and now I laugh every time I think of it. It would be funny if a car manufacturer came up with a car called The SketchMobile. If I had enough money, I'd buy one myself, just to have a car with a cool-sounding name like that. Ha ha ha. I can't stop laughing.
One day, at work, our office manager is all, oh, some people (who were networking - this was their way of networking) gave us some free gifts. They gave us an owl pillow.
Well, me and my friend were all excited, because apparently, we both like owls. I think we were thinking it'd be this cool, realistic picture of an owl. We ran to the lobby where the pillow was. It wasn't cool or realistic. It was, I dunno how to describe it. Cute and dumb, I guess you could call it. The owl was orange. The same color as The SketchMobile, as a matter of fact. Odd.
|Tuesday, October 28th, 2014|
I'm hesitant to post more stuff cuz I don't want it to cover up the comic strip I posted a few days ago. I guess it won't cover it up so much as just be above it. But with our short American attention span these days, people tune out if they have to read more than a paragraph or scroll down a little bit. People tune out when videos on Facebook are posted that're more than, say, a minute long. It's really odd. I feel like everybody in the world has ADHD now, including myself.
Anyway, I got online to post something about something I have a beef with. Now I'm realizing that many of my posts are about beefs. Maybe I should get online when I'm in a good mood about something so all my posts don't come out all complainy and beef-like.
Anywayyy, I got a phone call this morning from an organization I give money to. Let's call it "G." G sucks a certain amount of money outta one o' my credit cards monthly, which I think is fine cuz it's for a good cause. Then G calls me this morning asking for more money. The thing is, if you get a phone call from someone saying "I'm with 'G,'" there's no way of really knowing it's G. It could be a scam calling itself "G."Of course, there's the strong possibility it was G, and I'm pretty sure it was G. BUT there's no way of knowing for sure. Sure, it's probably not that likely that scam artists know I give $ to G, but I don't know that for sure. Because there's lots of ways of gettting ahold of people's information.
So, they ask for money and I say, okay, I'll increase my monthly giving-thingy by $2. She's all, great. Lemme have your credit card info. I'm all, um, don't you already have it on file? She's all no, and she sez stuff about security blah blah blah. So I very apologetically say, dude, I'm sorry but I don't give credit card information out over the phone when it's someone calling me, cuz there's no way for me to know you are who you say you are.
Well, dude, she turned into one of those aggressive telemarketers that wouldn't take no for an answer. She started rattling off all this other information they had about me to prove that it was them (because her reasoning was that nobody else would know my address, phone number, etcetera). I'm thinking, yeah, but scam artists could also know my address and so forth. It's possible.
Sure, I'm pretty sure it was G calling, which made me even more pissed. Cuz i've always had good feelings about G, but spending 15 minutes on the phone telling this person no over and over again was not my idea of a nice morning. I don't like that pestered feeling with a mean-ass telemarketer that doesn't take no for an answer and proceeds to explain that my saying "no" means I'm stupid. (Okay she didn't say that explicitly, but it was implied).
Well, she must have clairvoyant abilities or maybe she could read the tone of my voice, cuz she finally backed off when I was getting fed up. I realized, dude. I'm not into being pestered over the phone just because I'm already doing them the favor of giving them money each month. Like, why repay something nice I'm doing with mean, aggressive telemarketing? That's bulshit. At that point, I thought to myself, I can, right now, say "fuck you, I'm not ever giving you another red cent - take me off your list." Well, I didn't say that, but I thought it, and that was when she backed off and got all nice again.
It made me sad because so much of the world is this way - ugly and mean. I didn't realize that G had its own ugly and mean aspects. It was one of those things where an organization that gives me hope for humanity is now making me have no hope for humanity. If they can't be nice, who can?
And then my brain ties itself in knots, because if it really was G calling, then I'd've had no problem giving them the info they say they needed. But then again, there was no way to know that for sure. So, I'm pissed at them potentially being an imposter when they probably weren't. But all the same, they should fucking respect my right to privacy, so there.
(And ironically, I'm blabbing it all over the internet right now, so maybe I'm not as into privacy as I thought I was. Ha ha ha ha ha).
|Saturday, October 25th, 2014|
|Friday, October 24th, 2014|
|My Medical Marijuana Grump
It really bugs me that all these feds are raiding medical marijuana dispensaries down here where I'm living. It bums me out, and it makes me sad and angry at the same time. The voters of California voted to have medical marijuana be legal. Now you could say, yeah, but it's not working cuz some people cheat the system by getting a pot card and using it recreationally. I say: who cares? Who gives a fuck? By that same logic, you should outlaw prescription pain killers, because people abuse those all the fucking time. And you know what else? People are much more likely to die of pain killer abuse than pot use. But we don't outlaw pain killers cuz 1. people need them and 2. the pharmaceutical companies would get mad, and they're the ones paying off the politicians.
Which is probably why the feds are raiding our dispensaries in the first place. Cuz they're getting paid off by the pharma companies because those companies don't want a bunch of competition from medical marijuana, which is oftentimes a safer, better medicine than what they have to offer (depending on the medical condition).
I hate how the voters' wills are trumped by a bunch of corrupt politicians who "know better" than us. What the fuck is the point of a democracy if our votes don't count for anything? Not if it disagrees with what Big Brother has to say.
Ontop of that, new research is showin' that pot is good for a lot of conditions. It may be a cancer fighting agent. Some research is showin' that it may prevent and it very likely slows the progression of alzheimers. It's good for parkinsons, I've heard, as well. Add to that the fact that it's an excellent anti-nauseant, and it helps people who've lost their appetite eat again. Then there's the very strong possibility that it helps with anxiety.
I'm not saying it's a cure-all. I'm not saying that everybody should use it. But what the fuck, man? Outlawing a plant is really fucking stupid. It's a plant that has good things to say to lots of people and has been used medicinally for thousands of years. Shit dude. THe whole thing makes me grumpy.
|Friday, October 10th, 2014|
Today's the last day in my current apartment; tomorrow I move into the unit directly upstairs from me. Because Stompy finally moved out! Yay!!!!!!!! It's really strange that it's almost exactly a year to the day after I moved down here initially. Dang. Well, it's 3 weeks different from the anniversary of my move down here. Anywayyyyyyyy, I'm feelin' all sentimental for the old place. It sounds strange and silly, too, because the new place will be identical to the old place - same floor plan and everything. The only difference'll be it being hotter cuz it's on the 3rd floor (or I assume it'll be hotter), and no noise above my head. But every place has different energy. Even though it's gonna be the same, it'll still have Stompy's old energy in it, which I'll have to clear. And of course, there're lots of memories associated with this place. Mainly it's me learning myself how to draw better and working on my current comic book and recording about 10 songs. Or was it 11? I dunno. And watching TV and stuff. I'm not very coherent.
But I'm all ill-at-ease which is not a fun way to spend a day. I'm waiting for a phone call. I hate waiting for phone calls! This one is one I'm kind of nervous about, too, which makes it all the worse! Fuck, when's this person gonna call????? When??????????????
But I gotta work on gettin' ready to move. I've checked off a bunch of stuff on my to-do list, but there's lots of other stuff to do, too.
Now that I think of it, I'm waiting for 2 phone calls, one of which the outcome of which will determine what I say to a person I gotta call subsequently to it. So there're actually 3 phone conversations waiting to happen. That sucks balls, dude. That really sucks balls.
I wonder if I'll ever get to move up north again. I'd like that.
Oh, and I feel really bad!!!! I called my phone service to transfer my service to the new apartment, and the lady I spoke to was nice enough. She was professional and did her job well. It was fine. Then the phone company called me this morning with this automated survey asking me to rate my experience with the phone lady.
Well it said 1 is completely unsatisfied and 10 was completely satisfied. Well, I'm one of those persons who has a tendency to give everything "10's" y'know. And then I wonder if people think i'm being disingenuous. So I decided to punch in "9" to show I was satisfied, but it's not like I was over the moon or anything like that. It's not like I was looking back at that phone conversation with all these fond memories. It was just fine, and I figured 9 meant just fine.
So then the robot voice says "I'm SORRY that you weren't completely satisfied!" And I'm all NO!!!!! I was satisfied! It was just fine! I just didn't want to sound overboard in my praise!!! Shit!!!!!!
So now I'm worried I got the nice lady in trouble. I feel really bad about that. I feel super bad about that. I hope she doesn't lose her job or anything like that. But it asked me all these follow up questions about her, and I just went ahead and gave them all 10's. Maybe that'll make up for it. Maybe that will. Maybe they'll think since the follow ups didn't match up with the initial question, that I was stupid and didn't comprehend some of the questions. That way, they'll take my rating with a grain of salt, y'know. They'll just think, oh this customer is stupid. We cain't trust anything she says about our phone representative. The phone representative is just fine and can keep her job. It's just the customer that's stupid.
|Wednesday, October 8th, 2014|
|Insomnia, Part III
I dunno what to write about, but have these spare 15 minutes before the next thing that I have to do. It's been so long since I've blogged regularly, y'know. I dunno why I fall outta the habit so often. I mean, writing about random stuff is kind of fun, so I dunno why I don't do it more. Oh well. Poopity poop.
I'm tireder than tiredy tirederson today. That kind of makes sense, though, since I only got 4 hours of sleep last night. I'd like to write a book called "Insomnia." It feels like this book, probably another one of those graphic novels, is at the edge of my consciousness, just a-waiting to come out. I mean, fuck, I've already drawn 4 squares (see below). Y'know?
I feel like it's a really dark book, just a-waiting to pop outta my unconscious mind and descend upon me. But all I have right now is a general feel for it. And then there's the fact that I'm still trying to re-learn how to drawer cartoon characters in the first place. I'm supposing if the idears start to flow outta me in a big old flood, I'll just draw the 2 characters as dinosaurs cuz dinosaurs are really easy to draw. I already know it works to drawl them as dinosaurs because I've tried it a couple times. It looks fine. They just look like dinosaurs.
I guess "Insomnia"'s not dark, though, in the sense of really bad things happening or all that. It feels more dark in a European movie sort of way, but not nearly as grim or slow moving. It feels European-ish in the sense of it being just on the edge of pretention, but not actually being pretentious. It'll be more of a dark book, that's also a real hoot. A rip-roarin' adventure of fun and laughs.
But what'll it be about? I dunno. It just seems like this sleeplessness that's pervading large chunks of our society is, like, pointing to something, y'know? I want this book to be about whatever it's pointing to. (I mean, whatever this worldwide Insomnia is pointing to). I don't really know what it's pointing to, though. And maybe it's insane for me to be planning on writing a book in which I really have no ideas about what happens, except for the fact that the characters can't sleep. I dunno. Whatever.
My 15-minutes-from-now thing just got cancelled, so now I have tons of time to sit around and stew. Or maybe I'll do something more productive than stew. Maybe I'll do something really cool and fun.
I think I got my therapist sick. I came in with a cold last week, and now he has a cold. I feel bad.
|Tuesday, October 7th, 2014|
|I'm Dun With The Law Of Attraction
I don't know, dude. I mean, I used to believe in the law of attraction, but these days, I'm viewing it as more of an open question than anything else. Maybe it's true and maybe it isn't. I mean, there's scientific evidence that sez it's true, if the sources I read are correct. For example, people can make random events (e.g., coin-tosses) all non-random by thinkin' real hard about heads rather than tails. You end up with more heads than tails with a p-value of .00000 something or other. Whatever, dude.
I don't even care if it's real or not. All these fucking books that talk about the law of attraction, they talk about it from the perspective of it bein' a self-help book. All you have to do is change your thoughts, and your reality will change.
The thing is - the reality is - these books don't do any good in terms of self help. Not really. All these books are is a description of a process. The process is that of beings dreaming themselves into existence. But really, dude. It doesn't offer any fucking solution about how to make this existence nicer. No. It's all bullshit.
All you have to do is change your thoughts????????????????????????????????
What the fuck, dude? No one can change their fucking thoughts. It just can't be done. You might as well tell someone to change the weather, or make the earth spin at a different rate. You can't fucking do it!!!!! Telling somone "all you have to do is change your thoughts" is akin to saying "In order to make your reality nicer, just balance an object with the mass of the moon on the head of a pin and you got it!"
Even Zen experts and the Dalai Lama and all them can't fucking change their thoughts. All they've learned how to do is to disregard them. Or view them from a standpoint of neutrality. That's all you can really hope for. If you have a bunch of fucking garbage going through your head, all you can really do is be neutral to it and say "there's some more garbage."
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.
It's frustrating. Because if the law of attraction is true, it doesn't mean we can all change our realities and have happy existences. No, all it means is those of us with lotsa negative thoughts are fucked and there's nothing we can do about it. I mean, if your existence is an unremitting hell, then it's logical to assume that you're going to be thinking about the unremitting hell, because your're in it all the fucking time. If I had a green square in the upper right hand corner of my visual field all the time, I'd probably be thinking about green squares. You can't stop thinking about how shitty things are if they're shitty; you just can't.
I know people say, "then introduce some gratitude into your life. Keep a fucking gratitude journal." I'm not saying that's not a good practice. I like the gratitude thing, myself, cuz it does help to fight off depression, at least to a certain extent.
BUT...okay, I do 5 or so minutes of gratitude each day. Yay. Then I go back to stressing about all the bills I can't afford to pay and how I'm so totally fucked that I don't know what to do. And if the law of attraction is true, I'll continue to be fucked, and there really ain't nothing I can do about it.
I guess all I can do about it is go get a nice chocolate cake and eat it. Cuz if I'm totally fucked for the duration of this existence, I might as well have cake, too.
|Monday, September 29th, 2014|