October 2006

10/6/06
So lately I've been feeling self-destructive and I really don't want to talk about it. At least I've come to this realization rather than being oblivious or trying to tell myself that I am in control of my actions. Whenever I get self-destructive it's like I'm on cruise control. There's very little that I do which is conscious. Fortunately inertia and sloth keeps me from going beyond the thought stage.

An tangential event happened on Thursday which shocked me and only served to underscore the former subject. I did something at work and figured it was passable and moved on with my life. The department manager IM'ed me saying that I screwed up and to keep an eye out for it in the future. Well I went back to speak with her to learn more and she started talking louder and LoUdEr and LOUDER until I said, "You're yelling."

"Oh. My ears are stopped up and I can't hear." In seconds I had opened up this little jar on her desk, took out a Hershey's miniature and by the time it was half-eaten I realized the unconscious part of myself had fed my fat face.

Now I wish it was something as cool as a Tyler Durden eidolon. A whole other life where I am living like my unconscious wants me to be living life. Sadly I'm far more simple but the realization is a frightening one. How much do I do in my life that isn't me? How much is a simple chemical reaction or textbook example of stimulus-response?

Right now I'm just going to shrug my shoulders and try to control my actions, conscious and subconscious.

another thing

Once I started ruminating on that aspect of my life, I started trying to understand more about myself. See if the foundation would shed more light upon my mental pathology.

So far I've only come to the conclusion that I am an anxious, autocratic and judgemental person with a poor self-image.

My life is structured around unrealistic expectations on myself. This engenders a Type A personality which is present when I am at work and when I am attempting to relax. Everything I do requires my undivided attention and any distraction will only raise my ire because things aren't going my way. When I'm home I force myself to relax to the point that it can be stressful for me.

I always feel like I'm trying to catch up and make up for all the stress at work. Once I've decided that I've reached equilibrium I can finally find peace and quiet. Unfortunately by that time I'm already asleep and unable to truly enjoy it.

These unrealistic expectations have the unfailing tendency to be unfairly projected on other people. When people fall short of those expectations it gets on my nerves. I expect better of them because everyone is better than me. I'm just shit.

thank goodness

Thank goodness for heptapod.org. This gives me a place where I can air my troubles without being self-conscious. Sure there are people who read my site, some that I know IRL and others I've never met, but I don't have to deal with the social aspect of "Am I boring them? Do they give a shit or am I engaged in mental masturbation?"

That train of thought is why I make myself certain that I have no one I can talk with about my thoughts and feelings. It's bad enough that I feel ashamed of having feelings and vulnerabilities but to have the mindset that the entire world judges me as harshly as I judge the world can be the best prescription for ulcers and worse.

lets not forget

Let's not forget the whole fucked up bullshit of "I'm a bad person" and desperately hoping someone will come along and say "No, you're wrong" and soothe me until I actually do something bad and I tell another sob story and then it's rinse, lather, repeat time.

Right now I'd like to delude myself that this motif is common to all humans at varying degrees. Rather not think about how I'm the only one taking it to pathological levels.

sad

Right now I'm sad because I feel like I've lost something important in my life. The left side of my brain says I'm being irrational and my proximity to my own issues is coloring everything else. My brain's right hemisphere is encouraging me to walk down this path and raise shit with my friends and loved ones.

Nobody deserves this shit.

In Yer Dreams

raddidge and I arrived in New Jersey late at night. We arrived at my parents's place for the sole purpose of using this bleeding-edge game console owned by my father. The game was an immersive Super Mario adventure that I recall from a prior dream.

The game begins at a darkened castle running around a walled courtyard. Mario's goal is to discover a trap door which leads deeper into the castle's dungeon and all these classic and new platform puzzles. Once the trapdoor is found and Mario drops through, Mario swims through the air collecting floating, brightly colored balls. Once the balls are collected the game begins in earnest with all its Japanese logic glory.

raddidge starts playing the game while I'm giving her advice on the controls and hints about how to traverse various traps and puzzles. That's when my father comes downstairs and tells us we're too loud and need to leave because he has to get up for work.

I get up and sulk out the back patio door. raddidge follows and shows me that she smuggled out the console and the game. "Doesn't your father have some gay neighbors? They'll let us play at their house!"

Well it's worth a shot, I thought to myself.

By now everything's soaked from a midnight storm and drizzle is lingering in the air. It's much more different than the mist found in the higher elevations. We walk a few houses down and knock on their door. The gay neighbors let us in and get excited when they find out we have this new gaming console.

Dream's end is just playing the game.