Monday, July 26, 2010
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Be Quiet
Every time I ever think of something to write here on this blog I see all of my vicious, vain and intolerably frivilous, fearful thoughts bubbling to the surface. So whenever I catch myself in the act I tend to wither in my own disdain and shit-can whatever it was I was writing.
I'm not an especially unbalanced person. I've just always had a habit of writing down my most disturbing thoughts so other people could see them because I used to think they were special and interesting. But they're not. Well... maybe they're interesting, sometimes. But they're not special. Everybody has thoughts that are uniquely weird to their own interpretations of reality.
I wonder sometimes why people are even interested in other peoples blog scriblings. I read half a dozen of the thousands of messages that stream through facebook every month and for the most part I'm not really interested in any of it. But I do like to see that a lot of my old friends are out there still living lives. It's good that they have things to say.
I go through the rest of my life (outside the computerverse) in pretty much the same way. I like to see people walking around in town doing things. I like the crowds that gather at the 'Town Centers' and the parks, having random conversations with strangers. But I never have much to say to anyone. I rarely desire to speak, even to people I know well and I'm still close to.
I have developed deep everlasting friendships and then walked away. I've said I'd call and stay in touch, then never did. I've known people who I cared for who died, and I only ever felt sad for the people who felt sad about them not being around anymore. I never felt sad the way they did. Sometimes I wonder if I ever really cared at all about the ones who died.
Yet I miss my cat. I still ache when I think of how she died. Her name was Grue. And I made the decision to put her out of her misery, because she was dying of cancer. I remember feeling like I had betrayed her and betrayed Lacey, who loved her too. Because I'm the one that said it was okay to take away the rest of her life, however long or brief it might have been. I dropped her chances to zero, because I wanted her to die in numbness instead of pain.
I think that when she died some noisy selfish part of me that took life for granted died with her. But it didn't stay dead. Like a wart that wont die no matter how many times you clip it out, it keeps coming back. The difference is that now I notice it whenever it starts to show up again.
I think part of the reason I'm so much quieter than I ever used to be is that I often doubt my intentions and tend to spare you all from my stupider thoughts. Well, all except you, Lacey. And I also tend to slip up when I'm drunk. Another great reason to stop drinking.
I have a great need to be even quieter, so I might have a chance to examine end all my bad habits by seeing them for what they are. I don't want to be self absorbed anymore. I need to practice being still and being quiet.
I'm not an especially unbalanced person. I've just always had a habit of writing down my most disturbing thoughts so other people could see them because I used to think they were special and interesting. But they're not. Well... maybe they're interesting, sometimes. But they're not special. Everybody has thoughts that are uniquely weird to their own interpretations of reality.
I wonder sometimes why people are even interested in other peoples blog scriblings. I read half a dozen of the thousands of messages that stream through facebook every month and for the most part I'm not really interested in any of it. But I do like to see that a lot of my old friends are out there still living lives. It's good that they have things to say.
I go through the rest of my life (outside the computerverse) in pretty much the same way. I like to see people walking around in town doing things. I like the crowds that gather at the 'Town Centers' and the parks, having random conversations with strangers. But I never have much to say to anyone. I rarely desire to speak, even to people I know well and I'm still close to.
I have developed deep everlasting friendships and then walked away. I've said I'd call and stay in touch, then never did. I've known people who I cared for who died, and I only ever felt sad for the people who felt sad about them not being around anymore. I never felt sad the way they did. Sometimes I wonder if I ever really cared at all about the ones who died.
Yet I miss my cat. I still ache when I think of how she died. Her name was Grue. And I made the decision to put her out of her misery, because she was dying of cancer. I remember feeling like I had betrayed her and betrayed Lacey, who loved her too. Because I'm the one that said it was okay to take away the rest of her life, however long or brief it might have been. I dropped her chances to zero, because I wanted her to die in numbness instead of pain.
I think that when she died some noisy selfish part of me that took life for granted died with her. But it didn't stay dead. Like a wart that wont die no matter how many times you clip it out, it keeps coming back. The difference is that now I notice it whenever it starts to show up again.
I think part of the reason I'm so much quieter than I ever used to be is that I often doubt my intentions and tend to spare you all from my stupider thoughts. Well, all except you, Lacey. And I also tend to slip up when I'm drunk. Another great reason to stop drinking.
I have a great need to be even quieter, so I might have a chance to examine end all my bad habits by seeing them for what they are. I don't want to be self absorbed anymore. I need to practice being still and being quiet.
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