Transformation 

If feelings were tangible, I would burn them. I would tie them to a chair and begin my wrath of torture. My time would be consumed with giving each feeling exactly what it deserved.

What a world we live in when our feelings torture us and we can do nothing in return. We have to suffer; to learn how to cope. If we could only learn how to transform from them instead of living with them.

Lately, my feelings have consumed me. The change I have dealt with recently is leaving me in shambles. Coping with my torturous feelings is, at times, more than I can bear. It isn’t enough to cope anymore. I must transform.

I suppose my feelings are holding me captive and I am now developing Stockholm syndrome. If you are laughing at that statement, good. If you laughed and then cried, good. Transformation is emotional.

It can leave you weak, vulnerable, and it can also leave you strong. Those three words separately are different. When they are together, they transform into something much different. Let me explain.

My feelings often leave me weak. When I am weak, I am vulnerable to my thoughts. The scariest part about my thoughts are they can lead to harm. The last thing I want is for my thoughts to overtake my logic. The beauty in transformation is the strength. When my emotions drain my energy, I don’t want to do a whole lot. I would rather suffer. I can’t. It isn’t an option. Strength finds its way and transforms my vulnerability into a sliver of confidence. It isn’t much, but it is enough. Once I become confident, I am no longer weak.

Transformation is emotional, but it is also a blessing. If we do not learn to transform from our suffering, we will lose the will to cope, and our feelings will hold us captive – forever.

Will they come back for round two? Sure, but our transformation has left us stronger and more willing to fight. Soon, our feelings will find us, but leave in the same amount of time. We will recognize them, and take control.

Transformation is emotional, but it is also beautiful. It has made you the person you are today. Perhaps you haven’t fully transformed as of yet. Many of us do not see it’s entirety until we reach an old age. But that is why we are here. To be better than the last time. May it take a lifetime to achieve what I failed to achieve in my last life, for in the next life, I will know, and I will conquer.

So transform, become great, be strong, and face your feelings. They will guide you to the person you were born to be.

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I’m Just A Little Angry

WARNING: THIS ONE IS FOR THE FEMALES. PERHAPS ITS ALSO FOR THE MALES – THE ONES WHO KNOW WOMEN HAVE MORE THAN ONE PLACE IN THIS WORLD AND IT ISNT THE KITCHEN. 

I am a woman. I have a vagina. I have feelings. I can cook. I can love. I can read. I am educated. I can run a company. I can handle my finances. I can change a tire. I can change my oil. I can diagnose car problems. I can build things. I can learn with the best of them. I can out shoot you. I have blown up tanks. I have made deals with the best. I have been through hell and laughed. I will make you cry and then I will console you. I will cut you and then I will fix your wound. 

If you talk to me as if I have a feabil mind, who is nothing but a fragile creature, who can only make sandwiches, you will become nothing to me but another human taking up oxygen. 

There isn’t anything more infuriating than a man who will not look past stereotypes and condemns a woman to his mediocre beliefs. 

Am I back in a time where I can’t vote anymore? Can I not own land? Do I not have a god damn opinion? 

I don’t need to rely on you for a fucking thing. If you think I do, you are sadly mistaken. I will never ruin my mascara for the mind of a weak, ungrateful, misoganistic penis. 

I would think there would be a bigger scoop of respect for the only species who can keep this human race going. If you think I’m wrong, try fucking yourself and see how far it gets you. As a matter of fact, go fuck yourself anyway. It’s the only ass you’ll ever get. 

No More Ranting, for Now.

I was thinking about ranting today. I usually do this. I can inspire myself to write some very fueled rants. I wrote about 300 words and stopped. I exited out of Word, and when it asked me if I wanted to save my work, I declined. I’ve been thinking lately about stress and being angry, and it has changed my point-of-view.

There was a point in my life where stressed was the only dominating factor. I breathed stress. I was angry, I was cold, and I was a mess. I still have stress, but I choose to only rant in pieces, with a small group of friends. I rant in my mind, only to process why I was angry. After my process, I don’t feel the need to rant. I don’t let the struggles of life get to me like I used to. I was completely neurotic. I screamed, I flipped couches, (funny story), and I cried – a lot. It’s exhausting. One could almost ponder that I looked at my situation and decided to not care anymore. Life is too short. Why should I give a fuck if no one else does? Well, one might be correct. I rid myself of the stress. Therefore, I don’t care about it. I find my life to be more at ease. I can finally enjoy and do the things I like; I can finally look at life through a different set of glasses.

When I struggle, I get upset in my own way. If others vent to me about their struggles, I don’t take them as my own. My rants become less fueled and more perspective based. I start to ask myself why I am angry at the actions of others. When my dog gets attacked at the dog park, or an owner chooses to let their dog do anything they please, I stop myself from going to prison and think about them. I don’t soak their problems because I don’t know their problems. I just try and see things from their point of view and remain less reactive. Could I punch them? Yes. Could I make them feel like shit? Yes. Would it make me feel better? At the moment, yes. Would it help the situation? No. There are certain situations that do deserve an explanation. When I cross that line, I will handle it in my own way – a way that doesn’t end in handcuffs.

I could rant and be angry all the time. It’s easy. It’s hard to let things go. It’s hard to be positive. It’s hard to not let the ignorance of others get you down. So instead of ranting, I am rising; rising above the bullshit. I am transcending into a person who does not react, but instead I will think. As some may say, “Still think while you can. It’s free”.

I do want to say I will always remain a sarcastic, funny individual who will laugh when you fuck up, but I’ll help you fix your problem. Only once, though. I’m not fond of repeat offenders.

 

Finding Myself: Finding My Strength

I haven’t been here in a while. It seems it is becoming a pattern. I keep losing my way. I am unguided by my own failing light. It is only through moments of clarity that I seem to find a way to keep the torch burning. I find that clarity through moments of personal struggle. In fact, I find the clarity through many personal attributes: personal strengths, personal growth, personal resentments, personal awareness, personal revelations, and personal defaults, otherwise known as character defects. The clarity comes from within and when it shines, I am blinded with profound thoughts. They want to come pouring out at the most horrible of times, for instance – 3 am. I can’t stop the creativity, I can only nurture it.
I have faced many feelings over my personal struggles. Lately, I have felt lonely, angry, and through it all, sad. I rise to the occasion when I am needed, only showing strength, However, when the curtain falls, I shatter, only to mend myself when the second act begins. This time, however, I have lost some pieces of myself, and it is harder to mend what’s left.
So what is a girl to do? I can sit here and write all day about my inner demons and how they keep me up at ungodly hours or I can work through them. Essentially, that is what I am doing by writing. There is no greater therapy, but it may not be exactly what I need. I am not exactly sure what I need. I may find it, someday, through the fog, through the dark tunnels – just when my last ember is starting to fade. I may come across a personal growth and a way to light my torch will appear. It always does, but not before I am at a near breaking point. This too, is something that always happens. As I am learning, it happens to us all. It is how we deal with the matters before us that set us apart.
I choose to lose my sanity, have my soul shatter to a million pieces, and lose my way, time and time again. I also chose to keep moving forward. When the curtain draws, and I stand before the crowd, I will smile, and try to seek the light for my fading torch. I will fight every demon I have to break free of the personal struggles that claw at me daily. For if I do not, I will always be in darkness picking up the broken pieces, and never finding the parts that matter.

A Public Service Announcment

I had this post for today. It was so cute. My dog was bouncing up and down, about to devour a bone, and he couldn’t be any happier. Then the bull shit started and like snow cascading down a mountain, I found myself under the debris. Suddenly, Monday can go fuck itself. That’s right, people… the cussing has commenced.

So I would like to issue this public service announcement.

I take some things very seriously. So seriously that in fact, I may need meds to suppress my strong feelings. Let’s talk frankly about responsibility.

If you or someone you know suffer what is now being labeled as Head-In-Ass Disease or Disorder – (possibly disorder), please seek help by either getting your shit together or telling the infected person to get their shit together because some of us have had enough.

If you know you have something to do and that something affects others, you need to get your head out of your ass and get it done. End of story. If you find that you are unable to dislodge your head, then find a way to let others know that you are in serious trouble and may suffocate on your own crap. Then those that you were about to effect, will know that you can not handle your responsibilities and take further action. I would rather know you are suffocating than to be oblivious to any issues. Your negligence is infuriating and I will not hesitate for one second to let you know, especially when I and others are at risk from your lack of giving a fuck. Find a way to make it happen. Your excuses do not gauge on my sympathy meter. Go make your own life miserable and keep your drama and your head-in-ass issues to yourself.

Seek help immediately. Do not make others angry. Do not spread your disorder (disease?) to others. Take responsibility, and soon you will be free of this debilitating disease (disorder) – I kind of like disorder. Please help make others aware of this terrible, life threatening disorder before it’s too late, and before I and others end up in prison for assault.

Don’t get me wrong people. I too have suffered from head-in-ass disorder but I haven’t let my issues affect others. The reason for this? Not that I need to give you one, is that my fuse was lit last week and now the bomb has detonated. I tried to diffuse it, but the head-in-ass affected person effected me. Now I am pissed and feel the need to let everyone know.

 

Thank you.

There may be inspiration in this post somewhere, but I don’t see it. That may be from being infected. Watch yourselves people, and take direct care to not spread this horrible disease (disorder?) We are still confirming.

 

“Most people do not really want freedom, because freedom involves responsibility, and most people are frightened of responsibility.”
Sigmund Freud, Civilization and Its Discontents

You know, Freud, for once, you may have been right about something.

I’m A Little Annoyed, Upset, and Angry and That’s A Lot.

Sometimes there is too much going on with my brain. I can’t shut it off. I have been in this mess for 34 years and I still cannot figure out exactly what to do. Perhaps there is a manual I missed. With that nonsense out of the way, let me reach into my pocket and dig out some more nonsense.

I have been thinking of what to write for days upon days. Anything I thought of was too droll, to political, too paranoid, too… everything. It was just too much. That is when my brain short-circuited and I shut down. I fell on my bed and was hoping that I would just turn off like C3PO. I did not. I woke up hoping to feel better, but sleep did not help. Sometimes life can really suck. I had another day of “too much” and I slept again, hoping I would be okay. Well, what do you know? (not a real question) I woke up, ran for an hour, and felt much better. That lasted for a while and I had to take a nap because there was just too much crap out of my control. I ask, when will this nonsense end? Hmm? Anyone?

Also, I need to complain.

1st – My ass hurts. Did I tell you about the time I fell down the stairs and cracked my tailbone and had to get 7 stitches from the glass I was carrying? Don’t make me retell the story. Anyway, I am sitting at the library because I moved into my new apartment which does not yet have the internet. The library has wood chairs. It’s not cool for tailbones. Also – I thought the library was supposed to be a quite place… Seriously, people shut the hell up. Take note of that and do it in the theater too. I’m sick of people’s crap, which leads me to number 2.

2nd – I can’t trust too many people anymore. I cannot trust them with my words, nor can I trust them with my things. For this, I am sad. I am sad for them because they lack respect for themselves enough to give it to others. I am angry with myself for keeping the ray of hope in my heart. I often use it for people that I think deserve it. More times than I would like to count, I am wrong about the people I hand my ray of hope to. I just want to say this – If I respect your stuff, please respect mine. This leads me to my next rant.

3rd – This world is going to shit. In times where the news is filled with horrific stories and other scare tactics to push me further away from society, I like to hug my dog. He is only aware of a few things: his bed, his food, his toys, his leash, my car keys, and my tone of voice, and also other dogs, especially his new girlfriend. I suppose that was more than a few things. Stop judging me. I often would like to take his mentality and be aware of only the necessitates. Maybe then would my brain not short-circuit. Maybe.

The moral of this story – I can only trust my dog and maybe three people. My dog will not run his mouth. He may, but good luck trying to understand him. My dog will not ruin my belongings. He will, but only because he doesn’t know any better. People are rude. My brain is on the fritz. I love to run (It is Trail Tuesday! Gotta train for the next marathon!).

Oh do I feel better. However, I have to leave this library – too much stuff going on and my tailbone hurts. Buy some damn cushions, fancy library!

 

Happy Tuesday, people. Happy Tuesday.

Please Move

I have a rant. I wrote this at a Starbucks. It was actually happening to me as I was writing. I became so mad, I stopped focusing on my homework and made a bee-line to an open document. This is the outcome. Be aware that it contains 2 cuss words, 2 times and some math. I hate math. Happy Saturday!

Please Move

I am often confused as to why some individuals feel compelled to be close to complete strangers. It happens all the time. You are sitting in an empty place, an airport, a restaurant, a coffee place. All the seats are empty and you are quite content, then, BAM, a person sits in the chair right next to you. You stare, and they give no response. You inch away, and your movements do not faze them. You sigh heavily and try to show your disgust without actually muttering any words. I mean you do not know them. They could be serial killers or someone who wants to chat with you. Except you don’t feel like chatting or being stalked and murdered. You start slamming things around. Still no response. Then you begin to wonder if this person has actually died in the mere moments after they sat down. So you start to stare again, sizing them up, just in case they want to fight because of your persistence non vocal disgust. They stare back and just shrug their shoulders. So you think, fuck it. You would rather not talk to this weirdo; neither do you want to fight because an assault charge is a vicious battle. So you move. Violently. Huffing the entire time. Pissed because this person had the audacity to sit next to you in a place that was baron. There are 50 fucking empty chairs in this place, you piece of shit! But remember, you aren’t actually talking to this potential serial killer. And after you move, you get comfortable in a new spot in the other corner of the room, against the wall so the possibilities of anyone sitting next to you is only a 50/50 chance and not a 75/25 or 90/10. If that is confusing, don’t worry, I suddenly became confused too. I hate math and ratios and math. Some time passes and just when you have found your groove, a chair pulls out and it sounds very close, and BAM! another idiot. Then you wonder how it could be possible. Then wonder if you may have a sign that reads “sit next to me, I like serial killers and weirdoes” You check your body, no sign. Then you pause to think, have I ever consumed radioactive material that sends out magnet components and now I attract people, specifically weirdoes and serial killers, then you think no, stupid. Then get angry – Why are you sitting next to me! There are 49 fucking chairs in this place and you have to sit next to me, you piece of shit! Ugghhh.
If you ever see me out, don’t sit next to me. I may have cracked that day and am ready to throw down because suddenly assault charges don’t seem so bad, they actually seem enticing and lucrative and sexy. Like hey, how are you, I have an assault charge, want to hang out? Or how about this alternative? Don’t sit next to people! Find your own cozy spot, not mine, and find a spot about 30 feet from others. Oh my god, I’m going to give myself an aneurism. Can that actually happen? Don’t sit next to people if you don’t have to. They may be neurotic weirdoes who will complain, in a nonverbal way and then stop what they are doing, pull out their note pads, or laptops, and suddenly you are the main topic on their blog. And maybe that’s what you were looking for – some anxiety tweaked introvert to give you 15 minutes of fame. If that was your motive, you are a weird kind of genius and now I think I want to talk to you. Hold on, I’ll come back to my seat.

I’ll Go With That.

I picked up a few small books over the weekend. A nice gift for myself for working 7 days. Since it is Monday and I have to work today, I suppose the madness will never end. Anyway… One of the books is the opposite of the Be Calm and… series. This book’s wonderful title is, Screw Calm and Get Angry. This is just my sorta book. So today, from this book, I give you a quote about work. I find it suitable for a Monday, and for my working situation that never ends. Enjoy, and Happy Manic Depression Monday. (yes, I changed the name. I can do whatever I feel necessary)

One of the symptoms of an approaching nervous breakdown is the belief that one’s work is terribly important. – Bertrand Russell

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