God has OCD and needs some psychotherapy.

Now, before you start telling me that I'm the devil's child and need therapy or mental help (I will admit I am the former and need the latter, but first...), let me make my case.
See, each year at least one new human being is born. Many more than that, of course... but for argument's sake at least one is. Now, said person has two biological parents. These two biological parents have gone through the process of crying when they come out of the mother's womb (assuming that there was no problem with their health and they had a normal birth, etc.), crawling, pooping everywhere, spilling milk and in all actuality not being a full grown human being. This repetitive action of growing up, only to die and come back to heaven, doesn't it get freakin' boring after a while? Seriously. If you're going to keep yourself interested up there, why would you create a being just to follow the same old mundane patterns over and over again.
Clearly, God has OCD and in denial. God tried and tried to make a perfect person... when said perfect person came to life, we only worshiped him as God's son. Then, of course God got mad and decided to make an even more perfect person... or, has God stopped trying?
Maybe the OCD has gotten to a point where he needs to create one or two babies a day "in his image" in order to feel like he has accomplished something. (I only use the gendered God "he" to make it clear how only males can create life, and women, well... they are just baby making machines in our little imperfect world) Since, he knows how life's going to turn out for these babies, he ends up not only deeming this task of creation virtually pointless, but he feels unaccomplished and needs to create more and more babies in order to  be satisfied. This is a perfect explanation for the population increase. Not only is he in dire need to overpopulate the earth, because condoms are evil and adultery is a sin, but his narcissism is overpowering his ability to think logically...
Oh wait, but all of this is only because he is perfect and a reflection of him is imperfect. And, since we are created in his image, an image that is already imperfect, then I suppose we are imperfect creatures of an imperfect plan to begin with. God really ought to abandon this madness and leave us be. This plan of his, is screwed. Why does he still want to be a part of this useless plan? Right, because he has OCD and he requires perfection in an imperfect world.

So I owe it to myself...

I have been wondering lately about the possibilities. The ways my life COULD have gone had I not succumbed to doing X. It seems to me that we all wonder about these so called possibilities. What if my parents had decided to hold off on the sex until two weeks later and I'd have been, consequently, born two weeks later, would I have been any different?
I would like to think, yes. But, then, I'd also like to think a big fat no. If I was meant to be here, like this, a product of all of my influences, I would have been here regardless of the day, date, month, year, time I was born and would probably be thinking the things I do now, now. But, would I really? Would I have had the same influences?
I believe in the crazies of the zodiac signs. What they say might just as well be true of me as of any Pisces born on such and such a day at such and such a time with the stars that have been aligned in a particular manner. For all I know, the hoccum may as well be fact... I am sure the statistics is all wrong here, but about half the world, at least, believes in hocus pocus. If not magic, then something else. Superstition, some other crazies. But, my point is, even if you do, or don't, it is a product of influence. From the outside world, from rational thought, from experience, whatever.
So, I guess I would have been different. I would be two weeks less mature or different than I am now.
I digress, but do you ever notice how loud it gets in the cities sometimes? It's almost like under the drone of the constant construction noises you can't even hear your own thoughts... now, before you start contemplating this route of thought, let me bring you back to my little dilemma,
What if I had not done X and instead done Y?
Why ought I to even ask myself that question when X has occurred and now Y remains one of the many options that could have taken its place? So, granted that X has happened, are my feelings for X having happened justified? Supposing that X was in my control and Y was as well, but the circumstances leading to X are valid as opposed to the rationale behind Y, ought I to say that nothing else could have happened but X? Not necessarily, or necessarily, yes...
It's all so confusing. I am sure philosophy will seem meaningless after a while. And the only thing that will be left will be observation and nothing more. Observation of the contradictory thoughts that coexist in the world as well as the ignorance of those thoughts towards each other. Perhaps all that philosophical thought is IS observation and rational abstraction.
Who knows? Do you?

With Crippled Anger and Tears That Still Drip Sore.

You know those times when you wish that people in your past would come back and tell you that thing that you were dying to hear the whole while. It's just that. I heard it. I heard it from three distinct people, three different propositions and all of which took a toll on me that I never understood why. If I had sat there and contemplated why I had done what I had done, it would have made no sense to me. I would be making excuses for the moment that I lost each of them. I disconnected them from my life and I knew I never wanted them back in it.
They say people leave your life for a reason, then do they also come back for a reason? Or is it simply because the virtual world has made it THAT easy for us to connect?
For me, seriously, I don't care about who you are, what you've done in your past, where you are now, where you are going or if you are lost (actually I quite enjoy people that are lost, they have the best stories of trying to find themselves... they have some depth). I want to talk to you. I want to know you, understand you, live with you. I've always, only ever wanted that. To understand another's mind... another's thoughts, emotions, feelings, it makes the world a little less mysteriously scary and more satisfactory.
At the end of the day, I look myself in the eyes, in the mirror and face myself: am I satisfied with today? With my whole life? Have I taken enough chances that I know now they are worth it? Am I still worth the life that I am living?
Sometimes all of the answers above are a solid yes, sometimes they are gray and something they are all solid nos. No matter what they are and will be, tonight or each night following, I can say that I have been able to face myself. I know who I am, what I have become. I know I am perfectly satisfied with myself.
There are moments of hilarity in which I wonder about the irrationality of this exercise. I mean, really, we all dream beautiful dreams about the future and sometimes they are bleak, but most of all they are dreams... ones that we want satisfied, somehow. So, maybe I am wrong. Maybe being satisfied is a terrible thing to be, one ought to either be happy or sad at the end of the day. But, I say, if tomorrow were to never come, I wouldn't exist. Any human emotion would be arbitrary and uselessly defined. If tomorrow never came, I don't want to be known as that person who never lived her life having taken arbitrary risks and chances.
I know if I don't love, live, learn today, I don't have a guarantee that any of those things will happen tomorrow. They may be a distant reality of the past...

I do not want to be afraid, I don't want to die inside just to breathe in, I am tired, of feeling so alone... -- Cut by Plumb.

Those Moments That Seem Impossible.

I suppose you can only drive a person to the edge so many times before they fall on their own will. Similarly, you can only bring the horse to the water so many times that it knows that it ought to drink with its own mouth. Sadly, we all drive people too the edge, too many times. We forget that we have our weaknesses, our strengths and our crazy dreams that no one will ever understand.
As I was reading De Monfort for the past four days, I realized that the passions of the mind are impossible to forget and fruitless to forgive if their outcome be negative. The impulses, those rash emotions, they bind you to themselves. They never let you forget that it was in your hands to react a particular way.
I have always been the one to spare a person's emotions. Especially as a relationship of long came to an end. But, even I can't help feeling that there are always too many words left unspoken, too many emotions coiled up in the dark pits of our stomach that no one but you will ever know to be real.
I feel like a Miss Havisham and a Pip and an Estella all at once. I've been living in an unruly contradiction my whole life and until I learned to face myself, it was hard to explain what I meant and what I felt to somebody else.
Now, here I am, spilling my guts and brains out to the virtual space, uncaring of what the world might view me as. For I do know, now, that all the times I pretended I was strong, I was weak and all the times I became vulnerable, I was stronger than I had ever known myself to be in the faith that dependence had an ultimate goal.
--- If you only knew how many times I counted all the words that went wrong... - If You Only Knew by Shinedown

Broken Things.

Broken links, chains, furniture, guitars, hearts, limbs, relationships... Why can't we hold onto something more stable? If I had a moment where I could read a person's mind, even one, that would be a wish come true. People are so complex, so intriguing, so mysterious. It is impossible to know the truth from the words that come out of a person's mouth. The distance between the language, the thought and the emotion is miles apart. So I ask, why isn't there something stable? Something that is certain, some foundation upon which we can lay all others upon.
I lost my faith in a being such as 'god' a long time ago. That can't be grounding for me. What do I trust then? If I follow a little bit of Descartes and claim that I ought to believe that I am real and leave apart the rest of his philosophy, I would go insane. I guess one option is to just redeem myself by claiming that I am right and the rest is just bullocks. People, this computer, this keyboard is all simply a figment of my imagination. We are all brains in vats...
The problem is, I can rationalize all of these valid ideas and contentions, but it is in my emotions that I know I can't ground myself on the idea that I am the only one here and everything else just happens to be at my disposal, for my use, to do with as I please. Then the senses take over and all I can see are polar opposites and the million shades of gray in the middle to muse over.

XOX

Pessimistically Optimistic.

How can there be beauty and horror in the same darn thing? Is it what we bring to the circumstance, or what the circumstance brings to us? Are we afraid of the dark, or is the dark afraid of us? Is it simple or are we just leaving something out of the complicated picture? I could stop and stare and wait and lie in this pondering forever and still not be finished the task of doing some intense inner searching for forever. I wish it were black and white and that those neutral didn't mix and there was no gray. I wish it was easy to blame the objects of our senses and claim that they made us scared, they made us happy, and they made us sad... but, we all know none of that blame game is true... or is it simply not true, but not false either?
I keep waiting for that moment when I can finally see the light in the darkness and the darkness in the light. The latter seems easier to find than the former. I guess that means that I am always half glass empty. Forever seems too long and life... short. Eternity seems selfish and life, selfless. So, are we inherently selfless? Are we forgivers, not sinners, because we couldn't possibly sin. Are we afraid of death or is death a permanent truth that we can't evade. The metaphors, the symbols, the ideas, the thoughts, are they real, or simply creations of the physical realm that we can't see. Is reason, is thought, that sense that we ought to be relating to, to understand that we are confined to our five sense and can't fathom anything outside of it? Is that the mode to reach an entirely DIFFERENT way of thinking?
Right here, in this moment, being alive, is a good thing, or is it?
We are complicated, not simple. Had we been simple, one brain couldn't control, manipulate or destroy the other.
Put two minds together in a room and you have war for each one tries to out-wit the other. With one mind, a person goes insane.

The Warmth I Feel Beside Me...

So lately, since I began to think more about this idea that people have in their minds that we are protected by some higher entity, God or not, I have realized that there seems to be no satisfaction left in the idea that we are natural, organic beings. We claim to be different from animals and other species, because of this one faculty called rationality and our ability because of it to dominate over them, but our inability to control our passion, raw emotion and desire, proves otherwise. Yes, here I am taking one vice and claiming that it makes us who we are. I think we are a little too hasty in claiming that we are different from the creatures we premeditate our differences out of. I am not condoning killing other humans, as animals do - kill each other, that would be barbaric, but I am saying that it does happen. We claim that this is a defect in the brain and that the "good" people are the ones that are civilized. Is civility then a product of suppression of raw emotion? Or is it that of self-control? And, when does this self-control get you no where?
In order that we understand who WE are, who I am, and what the HUMAN BEINGS as a species' role is in the world, we have to look to other beings, deconstruct their mental conditioning, their thoughts, their actions, their manners of being and their place in the world. This might as well be the project of biology, anthropology and a definitive applicability of the laws of physics. We are past the survival stage... the one where we could just as well be considered animals. But, are we? We shove and push it down our own throats that we are "better than that", but are we? Because, really, we do have multiple sex partners, follow the theory of the "survival of the fittest" and continue to criticize the poor for the inability to keep it in their pants or for their lack of education. The contradiction that we live under is that we (as privileged folk) live like we do because we have no worry of the next meal. Had we had to worry about the next grain of rice, some crazy individuals stealing our daughters to sell them off to prostitution (be it our husbands or other male authority figures, or ourselves out of desperation), other crazy individuals or animals feeding off of our food, our bodies, or worrying about the next wave of disease, we wouldn't have the time nor the moments to think about our lives, to think about the complex ways the world works. We would just be, just those animals, living just like them, which, lest we forget, 70% of the world's human population is conditioned to live under.
So, I ask myself, as organic creatures, ought we to give up our so called progress in terms of technology? The mechanisms, artificial, that we have created that help us KNOW more... without the practical forbearing on our mentality. No reality, just virtual reality.

That's all for now.
XOX