even more random thoughts, order not included

I hate people who lie. And I am the biggest liar I know.

So this presents a very serious issue for me, it is itself the root of all of my many problems. Problems ranging from my failure to grow up, which in turn is a result of my failure to desire to become something of an adult. Now I just feel like a bad test case for some shitty Peter Pan complex. I just have become adept at avoiding any and all responsibility for myself, and the worst part is (for me at least, now that I have really sat down and thought about it) I could probably keep this shit up forever. I don’t know if I should be sad or strangely satisfied in my capacity to game people and just roll with shit. I should be horrified, but not for the worlds ignorance, but my own in believing this to be viable. 

Sometimes I try to remember if I ever had ambitions and where in these last 10 years give or take did the wheels fall off. I remember I wanted to have money when I was a kid, I understood from a young age that money was the enabler to achieve any semblance of comfort. But after I left high school, I don’t remember ever wanting to do something with my life. But at least I partied, I got to travel a little (actually not enough for my taste, but I guess any person who has had the opportunity to travel will always feel they left something on the table), I tried my had at a few jobs, and when I finally discovered what I was actually, ok maybe not great but at least I enjoyed it, it was gone. 

While that one last job (we all have our own “ones that got away”, in more than one facet of our lives) was it for me, I wasn’t ready yet to realize what I had stumbled upon. It took making the one of the biggest mistakes (not that I regret it, for whatever reasons I choose not to share, it was worth it), losing my “ideal” career pushed me into a new field. And as the old adage gleefully reminds me, you only know what you want when you’ve lost it, I find myself craving a return to that place where I felt at home, where my one big regret was not making even more of that opportunity. 

So my 20’s crisis continued, aided by my own unwillingness to compromise with myself and poof, 10 years passed. While I don’t regret it, it does sadden me sometimes that I might have lost what could have been my creative apex. Worst, in an ever increasing quagmire of mistakes and opportunities not taken, my dream of writing was a perfect complement to my ideal career, a librarian. Because while teaching does afford me plenty of time to write (which I sadly don’t make the most of, yes I must constantly remind myself that even if I am to consider myself a work in progress, that is not an excuse to continue to waste time), and I do enjoy the opportunity to share one of my few talents (yes I can speak two languages, it has been very useful) with people who work hard and remind me that I also wanted that; the world of books just calls me. I am a bibliophile, and while some might misconstrue it, I love books (not in a sexual way, and yet I can’t lie and say that books don’t give me an almost orgasmic pleasure). And not just old tomes or younger ones, I get the same feeling of satisfaction from accessing a book online or just reading it from any e-reader.  Yes, it took many twists and turns to just realize what I could do with my so called life.

And yet I will always be a liar, because even if I am righting course, devising plans, and setting things into motion; I haven’t been honest with myself. While it may sound obvious, most men’s greatest fear is the fear of failure, which is also the stupidest in its own way since it prevents you from ever truly trying; I have yet to face it. But I have in part, just by tossing these entries, and yet it could almost be called a fool’s errand. Because I know no one will read them, and if they do, I am somewhat immune to any criticism by the very amateur nature of blogging. I must really toss these bottled messages farther if I ever hope to accomplish my dream, to be paid to do this. And I will, and I will return to read these entries and smile, maybe sadly, hopefully triumphant.

heart

How can I write without a heart?

How can I ever think about telling a story if I don’t even care for the end of mine. 

Today I got my heart broken, I just couldn’t do anything about it. And I saw it coming, and yet I went straight on, I believed I could do something about it. I guess I was wrong. Maybe love is nothing really. Maybe it’s just chance, I think that would be worst because you can always just think if you maybe changed one thing, it would have gone the way you wanted. But it’s not, it’s too random, it can’t be planned around or made happen.

I don’t know what to think. I guess I’ll just quit, she really was my reason for going. Now I have nothing.It probably wasn't even worth it, who really reads this shit.

people

People are strange enigmas, whose keys are hidden inside, becoming ultimately impossible to truly figure out. As a writer, I have to try to understand what drives people by observing their actions, try to assess their qualities from the outside without being privy to the mental part of the equation.  The actions and words seem to be in sync, but the mind can scream other things, and yet it all makes perfect sense.

Let’s start by talking about actions. When people feel alone, away from places or people they know, they will tend to find something to remind them of home or familiar people. Humans are selfish and will seek to comfort themselves using others to their own convenience. Some become exceptionally adept at this, and the best can even talk themselves into believing they haven’t done wrong. Being passive aggressive, letting things happen all the while telling people exactly what they want to hear to lead them down the road one chose to ones benefit, that’s an exceptional skill to master. This is especially easy when the mark is just going to be close for a limited amount of time, then the façade becomes even easier to build and maintain, since any holes or inconsistencies can be ignored by the very finite nature of time. You can call this hooking people, or better yet, programming. By repeating certain behaviors, reinforcing them with code words or particular phrases, even using prizes or punishment; something of an amateurs approach to behavioral psychology.  

But the details, that’s the difficult part of all of this, and here is where many amateurs lose their footing. See, people aren’t naturally dumb or willing to believe easily. We all have natural defenses that subconsciously prevent us from getting conned that easily. That is why this game tends to be a tip toe between playing the aware person, their conscious mind (I’m not exactly sure if this would be the correct term, but let’s go with it), and signals to the deeper recesses of the mind. 

It’s easy to know who would become a master of this art. Many people suffer difficult childhoods, enduring neglect or hardship. Most can just succumb to these troubles but the few who do rise; they tend to be made stronger in a way because of all of it. They will be driven to avoid going back figuratively back down. Because that’s one of the beautiful things of humans, the adaptability, the capacity to respond to adversity and to try to grow or overcome it; even if it’s still less than a fifty-fifty chance, it is truly amazing.  Something interesting about this, taking a quick overview of many successful or driven people, one thing more than a few do share, is having encountered hardship. No, I’m not saying every success story is a rag to riches tale, but wills forged under difficult situations can be harder to break in the face of greater adversity. 

It is also easy to identify what people consider important. We all have tells or certain little, sometimes unnoticeable quirks, that can show others how we work or what concerns us. Sometimes it’s as easy as looking at what people favor doing with their hands, what objects they consider important. From there and with a little asking around or figuring other idiosyncrasies out, you can create a picture, though not entirely accurate, but pretty close to the real thing. So maybe people are actually easy to figure out, but sometimes the problem is that we don’t want to figure them out. We love the mystery, the unknown; it drives us in strange ways. We don’t want to accept that most of the times, it just a simple con game, a little battle that cared little for casualties.