Perfect One

Perfectionism is the dirtiest word of all. For a million reasons. It's the reason I can't get out of bed in the morning without a firm kick in the behind. It's why my preferences for food get smaller and smaller until nothing sounds goods, and I mean nothing. How can I enjoy food if it needs to be gluten-free, vegetarian, high in protein, low in sugar and also be delicious and easy to prepare? Oh thank god, I found something... and oh my god it's a week later and I've eaten it for 2 out of 3 meals everyday and want to gag when I think about it. "Shit out of luck" is the scientific term for this circumstance. "Fuck it and hello mac and cheese" is the primary reversion.
Perfectionism is the reason I quit blogging. "UHG It's just too much to ask to write a mind-blowing societal overhaul each day... I'm just not feeling up to it."We'll duh Hitler-self. My psyche can really be a Joan Crawford at times. And I really do DESPISE wire hangers. I actually can't believe I allow them in my closet. One day at a time, right?
(Now here comes the idealistic poetry, the "shoulds", the "ifs", and then the impossible "hows":) If only I could find the root. Why am I so dissatisfied with my natural state? Why am I so dissatisfied with the state of others? In this world, nothing is as it should be, especially the things I touch. Another piece of crap fact is I know that it is my fault that my perception is so cruddy. I scratch and claw at WHY and HOW when there is no substance to either... WHY doesn't even matter for two reasons: first, WHY is a distraction to how. We can get hung up all day on why and never ask how to make it better. Secondly, why causes us to look back, to regret, to pity self, to remain static. We are sitting and watching our house burn instead of grabbing our children and getting the fack out.
How can be a major downer too, especially if perfectionism is your dirty word. "I know what I need to do, but it's just too much because I know I'll never be able to do it every day perfectly and then I'll be defeated yet again" And the I hear a Winnie the Pooh "Oh Bother." Oh bother is right because I am crazy and need a new brain. I got Abby Someone's... Abbie NORMAL. Young Frankenstein reference. Now that the movie quotes have come out and I forgot the point of this whole thing, I am going to try to get out of my own way by helping another person. That is the simple, constant solution. We have it, we just forget.

It's a shame how empty I feel after being dishonest. And dishonesty can come in many forms. Today it came in the form on acting unlike "myself." To imply that I am not "being myself" would imply that I have a known self, and to imply that would be wrong. There is no self to know here. I have had moments of comfort in my own skin, moments of clarity and peace, when I feel I have arrived to "myself". But it never lasts. Within a matter of months, weeks, I feel like that little alien in a human body, straining to maneuver the limbs and the mouth in a non-obvious, natural-seeming fashion. The problem is, I know all I am is this little green unknowable creature, struggling to feel and connect. Damn you little alien man... why can't you just crawl on out of that wretched body and be yourself for once? (he probably has a little blue alien man living inside his head too... and the peril continues...)

The dishonesty factor is not so much of myself, because of myself, but because of people's reactions to me. I did a presentation today and was slightly abrasive, unabashed and commanding. These traits are a small part of my personality, but a part nonetheless. The trouble is, I was feigning for a positive response from my boss, which he did not give... at least for the snippets I had glanced at him. Truth be told, I don't know how I present best, how I earn the "like-ability" chip that is so important in presenting.  I just need to keep trying... and try I might. Unless I get a job in some other field where I can be a gentle lover of children and kittens and kiss babies all day, making five figures (happy with 40K a year if I can ride my bike to work and do yoga and get to the grocery store.). Then I'd probably take that, never to look back.

Only The Challenge is magical. And every time I surpass the moment of embarrassment, the feeling of rejection or shame, I grow a small amount and I smile at it.

Guns Kill People and Guns Kill People

ASSHOLES!!!! Attempting to watch a clip of that sick Aurora, CO shooting spree only to be graced by a pre-roll ad with 7 beautiful women dressed as nuns carrying automatic weapons. It's an advertisement for the video game Hit Man. ARE YOU EFFING KIDDING ME!!!????? People have died and your are sadistically supporting virtually offing people? How more retardedly, ironically, self-sabotagingly dim-witted can this country's media get? Entertainment is news, news is entertainment. If you think killing people is entertaining there sure-as-a-witch's-tit is gonna be some bored kid with severe, unchecked depression (his single parent deems "eccentricity" or "confusion") who will blow a hole in something somewhere whether it be a person's head, or the stucco wall in a Kmart Superstore. DUH. Then you get into all the gun laws, the politics, the ethics, the "problems with this country." And everyone is pointing a finger at everyone else. Everyone should own a gun, and no one should own a gun, but then the government has guns and we are fucked. And who are we kidding when we think stiff regulation will keep arms out of the bad guy's hands? "Well look at Italy." I don't want to look at Italy- because people get stabbed there all the time and truth be told, I'd rather be shot with a bullet than shanked with some depressed kid's rusty butterfly knife collectable.

I know there is more to it. This is why I don't like politics. I get it... I get your view, and I get his view. And I can't ever decide.

Not Certain

I thought this anti/anon blog thing would be a good idea but now I'm second-guessing. It is fun to be anonymous but anonymity has lead me to be more ranty than normal. The average american would probably say "If you are angry let it out, just not in someone's face." I have a different theory because my anger is not subsiding. I don't think anger is like balloon full of air that needs to be released. I think it is more like a flame burning in a candle, that needs to be blown out. So long as it has oxygen, carbon and heat it will continue to burn. You add more of the three, it gets bigger. Just because the flame is getting bigger doesn't mean it will run out of steam and shut itself down. It keeps going. The things that make me angry never go away. People are always people. There are always slow drivers, loud talkers, assholes that hang up on you when you are just doing your job. There are always over-acheivers, plate-lickers, liars. So I always have fuel. I am alive so I have the oxygen. And I am naturally an angry person so the pilot is always lit. The question is, do I combine elements today? Do I want to light the fire? It's a choice for me, and an important choice because for some reason, contrary to the literal sense in most cases, it is a lot easier to light a fire than to put it out.

This Is It

Like Michael Jackson said, "This Is It". MJ really creeps me out to the core but for some reason this stuck with me. Maybe because it was forced into my subconscious by the billboards, commercials and ads. I can visualize his silhouette now. When I went to a photo exhibit of rockers past and present, there was an MJ collage and I couldn't look at it without my stomach turning, hair standing on end. I got that gaggy feeling in my throat and needed to move away. Minutes later I could relate looking at him to viewing the images of a deformed child, someone with severe elephantiasis or the image of a cycloptic kitten. He isn't that weird looking physically, but I think there is something weird looking about him humanly. There is just some wrong. Like really wrong. The Jacksons are like ghosts of people, but deformed ghosts. Theirs souls have spare appendages and scoliosis. That's all I can really reason. I don't know if he harmed children or was a nice person. I just see "A Child Called It" without doing the laborious work it took Dave Pelzer to feel like a valuable part of society, like a human. MJ just believed it. Maybe that's what Michael means by "This Is It"... This is the dislodged, mutated, nonhuman, nonvaluable, Me.

Had no idea where this post would go. Thank god for anonymity. Love you Latoya.

Anonymous Friend

Hi there. I am your anonymous friend doing his part to not be poison in the well water. I work hard daily to maintain normalcy, to keep a friendly smile the days you see me. In my room my body devours itself, beginning with the mind, then the brain, then the nerves, then the tissues and then everything. It is a slow burning process. I don't want to touch anyone or spread this perpetual virus to my fellows. Why not I ask myself sometime... If I suffer how come they get to remain at peace with happenings? Why don't they get to know what I know and see the side of life I am made to see. I don't ask why much anymore. And it's not so much a matter of morals or ethics that I don't stink up the world with my foul mouth, my anger or my paranoid mental creations. I think it's fear. But that begs the age old question of morals and ethics. Were it not for fear would you be a "good person"? Were it not for your fear of hell, prison, your wife, of loneliness, of death, would you wake up on time for work, smile at the neighbor and drive in a straight line? This is the poison, but would it be poison in a mind without fear? Or would it shift it's weight into color art beauty change magic? I may never know because I'm chicken shit. And the fire inside will continue to burn.