I had a headache that grew steadily all day. I woke up I the middle of the night and my room felt like it was choking my brain cells. I don't know if it's the room or myself.  I opened a window, turned the fan on high, opened the door. Now it's cold but the air feels clean.  

I took some headache meds, switched pillows and drank some water.  It's not nearly as painful.

I need to pay my health insurance bill asap. Tomorrow is the last day of 2016.

A friend gave me some feedback on my writing.  I need a partner in so many ways.

Jesse is at a folk festival and will probably have a great celebration. It makes me envious because i don't think I am capable of that. I don't want to be around people but I want to feel special and loved AND I want to love someone enough that their presence doesn't annoy me when I have headaches or when the pressure to have fun is going to outweigh the possibility for fun. 

I don't want to go back to work or school or internships. I'm just starting to remember what my mind is like without the stress.  

One of my classmates is naked sans sister? Or cousin? 

Wondering if I should give up Facebook. And Instagram and YouTube and all of it really.  When was the last time I was genuinely happy with my life?

Had a dream yesterday in which b was 2-2.5 months pregnant.  She looked like she was 20 years old, and had cut her hair.   Her niece was about 8-9 though...

Update on life: End of the First Semester of Grad School and other boring things

Well it is 5:24 on a snowstorm weekend in December. We are just shy of the holiday week, and I will probably spend the next three weeks reading, writing, playing computer games and doing all the fun things I did all last year.

I am in Grad School, or rather, I just completed my first semester and I am in the time between the next set of classes. 
My initial thoughts were that I wasn't learning a lot and was often irritated by the poor design. I regularly considered that I could be as equally good Teacher as my profs, and I am still fairly sure that is the case. However I have also grown sympathetic to their position of being an adjunct in a stupid situation.
Overall classes were easy. The biggest stresses were the assignments, not necessarily because they were hard but because it was difficult to manage my time and motivation. The small forum assignments were actually harder sometimes because they felt like busy work, where as the big papers felt like a fun challenge.   In general I really appreciate my classmates, but not necessarily because they challenge my thinking, more just that they share values of service. They are good people.  
The design of the program and the direction still irks me. It is one of the things I want to address if I continue in the MSW forum (the student representation). I just think there are better uses of a person's time. How about getting people involved in things? Why cram their heads in books searching for obscure bullshit if you can have them in a meeting making changes?
Why are programs not coordinating with each other? The BSW forum and MSW forum  at augsburg don't talk... why? Where is the macro approach to THIS system?
I am going ahead with the clinical side, but still very wide-eyed about macro systems. In general I feel like I am probably at the top of the class in understanding -but many of my peers have experience that I can learn a lot from. Also I talk, and they don't always.

Internship, sometimes feels like a joke. It is really difficult to feel productive in such a small role. I want to make changes, but don't feel I have the authority. I want to work with people, not tip toe around the edges pretending I know what I am doing. Its not a good  collaborative effort, and that makes me sad. Maybe they need more push to be groupy... maybe they need less distinction between admin and service.  Maybe the thing on the whole, needs a push to be more change oriented and less service. Anyway, its a lot of reaching out for more information, and not necessarily having the connection to make change happen. Part of it is that I like my coworkers/supervisors but I don't necessarily respect their leadership abilities. Also I am not getting paid, but working the equivalent of 10 weeks for free... so thats cool. 

What else... coffee shop. Its.. ugg. I don't know -I feel like the reason I work there is to have access to faces. To feel like there are possibilities. and a tiny amount of spending money. I am not necessarily getting along with my coworkers. They are nice, but I don't feel they know me or care, and I don't care to know them really either.

Roommates... same deal. 

Other than that it is my own thoughts. I feel pretty disconnected from friends and loved ones... not the same as the last few years when I couldn't relate, but rather just don't have the time. People are in their lives, I am in mine. Very little meaningful overlap... plus it is winter. So, even though I am sort of positive and hopeful about the way I can impact the world, I am less connected to it. 

Also fuck trump, am I right?  

I spent a lot of time thinking about possibilities, and then wonder why things don't fall into place more easily. Like so many of the things I want, or think might make me happier/connected/satisfied are actually very simple... but the moment I consider making them happen they seem totally out of reach. Like the beautiful barista at this coffee shop, and all the people who are so pretty they are hard to look at... how does meaningful connection actually happen?

My car breaking down, and buying a new one. That is how it happens, when life thrusts you a situation and you begrudgingly choose a new one. 

Sometimes wonder if I should just run away again... live on the beach. Write a book. Be a bad person. 

Update on life

So let's see total update on life (Multidimensional)


Age: 32
Sex and Gender: Male and mostly masculine, missing my hair.
Living situation: Living with two roommates who I rarely talk to, however its an improvement from my last place, and I like the location in Saint Paul (despite the drives, and the longing for familiar spots in Minneapolis).
Health: Mostly good, but not getting much exercise and not eating healthily. Do not have health insurance.
Family: Fine, but hard to maintain connection with lack of time.
Friends: Similar, mostly old friends from High School and College. Not doing very well at maintaining relationships with new people I am meeting, nor with older friends/coworkers who I value but don't have a shared point of references with currently. Still talking to ex in tiny little tidbits on messenger regularly.
Relationship: I don't even have a real crush. It's awful. I feel like I have no prospects, no people I am interested in. I am on okcupid and tinder and neither are doing anything to increase my likely hood of meeting anyone. Despite other stresses, this is actually the area I feel the worst about.
Work: Working in Minneapolis. Sometimes I like the job because I get to see so many faces. It can be a stressful job, and I appreciate about half of my coworkers... but the real perk of the job is getting to see all the faces, wonder at who they are and where they are headed. I also see the people that are the closest I have to crushes there. Other than that, the job is repetitive and simple, and only sometimes anxiety producing.
Grad School: There are elements I like about it, I like learning, I like discussions. But I don't like a lot of aspects of my program, I find them poorly designed and not necessarily a good fit for me or my lifestyle. I've considered what it would look like  to drop out, or cut back to part time, but neither option seems fitting for what I want to accomplish with my life.
Internship: similarly poorly designed experience, but helpful in the sense that I enjoy some of the work, and the things I am seeking out (resources etc) are helpful to my understanding of the systems that affect immigrants and participants. Some of the people at the internship are cool, I feel like the time constraints really keep anything serious friendship from forming.
Hobbies: If I broaden that definition to "what are you doing outside of school/work?" I am watching a lot of youtube, occasionally some netflix and sometimes sneaking in a book. I am not writing. I occasionally draw something. But surfing the internet and youtube is kind of the big thing.
Coping: Some positive and negative coping strategies in place. Not sure what I can do, or should do to fix.
Things I am thinking a lot about:
State of the world (why is it so fucked?)
US elections (Trump)
My inability to do anything politically worthwhile
My low level of comfort around people/ low motivation to engage
My regrets related to past relationships and not being able to support people
(newest Lacey's wedding, oldest Krystin, Chris, Ali)
How poorly designed everything is, and whether I need to be in macro to fix shit.
How poorly organized my life is.
How easy it would be to fix shit if people just stepped out of the way.
How I want to be a writer, but don't believe I am capable of succeeding/also that I want to be involved in something more social as well.
It would be difficult to have a relationship, a family, or kids right now... and yet I don't see my life being very worthwhile with out these components.
How I want more time to play video games, read books, and write.
How I am mostly dissatisfied with my relationships, and my social skills (likely because of my anxiety), and that if I got out of my own way, I might be more happy.

Specter of October

Its a gray sky day, the orange leaves accent the abysmal with their fire, but as the light fades it's easy to feel the gloom. 

It's easy to imagine the warmth of another person, pressing their fingers into the too tightly held flesh of my shoulders, it's easy to imagine my own fingers interlaced in her hair, as familiar as the warmth rising from the cup of coffee I sip, the smell of some long lost home. 

It's easy to think of the past, with regret, with adoration, with longing for the laughter, that heartfelt jubilance that comes with knowing someone well enough to enjoy their laughter, their knowing eyes smiling back. 

It's easy to recognize the changes, the distances, the unshared experiences like a mountain path winding back and forth making that which is permitted (welcomed even) too formidable to grovel-through. 

It's easy to know what is missing, easy to feel the sway, the drifting nervousness that accompanies all ventures when one is as anchor-less as I. 

and it's easy to smirk at other people's attempts to cut through the cloud that binds me, that swirls and drapes, and shadows all light, masks me with indecision, marks me inconsiderate, and fragments my strengths as the anxiety of distance permeates each capillary, bloodied me other. 

I guess all I am saying is, I didn't need to dress myself up to be a ghost this halloween. 

A thought on empathy and politics

I think I just figured out why anti-abortion positions never made any sense to me.

With almost all things, i tend to review them through as much of an empathetic lens as possible. For instance war doesn't make sense because -hello humans killing humans... Drug laws, why put someone in prison for hurting themselves? 

But abortion... Who are you empathizing with? Do you remember being a zygote? A tadpole embryo? A tiny otter skinned chipmunk looking thing? A hairless pygmy marmoset the size of an apple? 

Vs the mother, dont you clearly remember a time when you were terrified and overwhelmed, and feeling like you just can't handle shit? Why don't you empathize with that? 

I just don't get it... To me the person isn't arguing based on anything real, except this abstract idea that has no basis in reality (the completely unknown of what could be) or they just want to dictate how people should live their lives. 

Some will say, oh but all that potential is wasted, but then why not focus on the potential we are wasting all around us?

Some will say, you got to protect the vulnerable, but then why not focus on the vulnerable all around us?

Some will say, you got to protect life, but then why not protect the life around us? 

I don't get it. 

Bonded communication.

I've been feeling stressed and a little needy lately. It's the work/intern/school life.  It makes me want someone to hold, or who will hold me back. But I hate the idea of all the work to get to know someone, I want it to be easy.

In the dream she was pregnant. (this particular ex gave birth a few months ago, so I don't think that is likely) She was many months pregnant, like my coworker who is due in early

November.  She swayed from hip to hip, not quite uncomfortable but very aware of the weight. Her stomach and chest heavier than she would have liked. We talked. I don't know what the words were, I was too busy watching her reactions. She seemed like her mind was somewhere else, and yet I was fully in tune with her. She kept her eyes elsewhere, while I traced her newly formed curves, while I wanted to place my hands on her stomach, and her back and her hips, and the skin of her arms. 

She wasn't unaware of this, but she saw me getting sleepy, she understood I wasn't fully myself, that I was wanting. I fell asleep on her couch, but when I woke it had become a full mattress. Not the mattress she slept with her husband on, but a guest in her home. He was coming home soon and she was only a little worried about my being present. She talked again, and I swayed in tune with every singe motion, every feeling and thought. I didn't need to listen, and she knew it. She kept her eyes distant but she couldn't help but smile out of the corner of her mouth. She knew, she felt it like a tug on her, and she didn't mind when I moved closer. But I mentioned it. I said I'm sorry for invading your space and she played along, though she knew I wasn't, and she wasn't either. 

As she continued to talk I slowly moved closer until my arms were around her. And she didn't pull away, she just rubbed the outside of my arms and hands which attended to her, like she knew it was natural, like she understood it was as it should be. But it didn't make her happier, like it had me.  It was just what it was.

And she walked away to her room to attend something else while I folded the blanket and waited for her husband to come home. 

When she came back into the room she was surprised, but hid it quickly. There was something about wrapping it up so soon, but she looked back towards the windows again, waiting for him. 

And i knew it was time to leave, to wake up. 

The glow

Pretty sure I just figured out why that beautiful professor was glowing. Preggers.    Still beautiful. 

First impressions

It's 3:08 am and I can't get back to sleep. My mind races from one topic to the next: Hmong culture project, how to facilitate a meeting, the problems with Augsburg, the problems with nh, the strangeness of people and their inability to design things functionally.

I am operating on too little information, and it leaves my mind to make judgements about the facilitation. Perhaps In the long run it will all be ok, but I'm amazed how little has been prepared to make it so. 

Obsessing

I am not sure if it is healthy or not, but i am suddenly obsessing and overthinking random things again.  

I haven't thought about my book in a week, before that it was also a long gap.

But I have been thinking about words and their meanings, and how best to use them to create social awareness and acceptance... And I have spent too much time arguing about that in my head.

And I have been thinking of this one professor lady at work who takes my words away, and how between the two of us we seem really dumb, but perhaps it's a mutual attraction... And I don't know her name or anything about her so it could all go bad super easy... But I sometimes dream about her. And seeing her brightens my day... And I have to practice words and phrases around her so that I don't get overwhelmed and ignore her - as a defense mechanism. 

Notes from moving.

I reserved a truck for 10 am. So I woke up at 8. Moved 6 items in 12 minutes. Ate fruit. Showered. It's 8:30. Still need to move my bed stuff which is the biggest item... But damn my estimates for timing are off. I have the van for 4 hours. If I load it with boxes I might make a separate trip to my moms house. 

I usually don't have a lot of cognitive dissonance in my life, it's easy to just say "things are complex, bigger than a simplified explanation or opinion."

But when it comes to food, there is still a lot of anxiety and weirdness. Today I experienced this at Leeann Chin, because I read that their fried rice uses mushroom soy sauce. I don't eat their fried rice, but it reminded me that I like

Mushroom soy sauce even though the idea of it gives me  a ridiculous  amount of dissonance verging on physical discomfort.  So odd. 

An apology story

My brother and I were talking about his summer, and about his going back to work. My step mother chimes in about how irritating the trainings are (valid for most who have esperienced them) we agree for a minute and then she names someone specific, a trainer who did a worship of "courageous conversations (concerning race)." She isn't opposed to this in theory, but her perspective of the workshop is that participants should still feel safe, in the "courageous" space. And she alludes to an experience she has discussed with me before where a group of staff of color berated a white man after he asked a question, basically insinuating the man was racist or being racist in the moment- it isn't clear which because she doesn't remember his question, or the tone, only the angry people of color who embarrassed the white man. 

She brings this up, and I role my eyes because it isn't the focus of our conversation and we have different perspectives anyway which she knows, so really she is bringing this up just to assert her whitevictimhood, but she asks me if I rolled my eyes and I reply yes, honestly and go back to having the conversation. She feels cut out and remains silent. Later she complains to my father and all the while my own tension grows to the point where I feel pretty guilty, not because I'm wrong, but because I've hurt her feelings.

Before dinner I decide I'm going to apologize and I do, in front of everyone though not trying to make a show, just to acknowledge I was rude. 

She accepts it and we go on with our days.

I consider my desire to keep the peace, my desire to maintain a good relationship, to keep things going- and I know I've made the right decision.

But I also know I wasn't wrong.

I wasn't wrong in the same way that baby boomers needed to roll their eyes at their own parents when they said something racist or sexist. 

It's not that I think I can win her over, though I'm sure we will have a hundred more conversations. It's that I think she should feel shame and guilt for propagating bullshit in the world, for being fear driven and hypocritical, and victim blaming, and claiming martyrdom and yet I value the peace...

Material and Non-material Goals and Desires

Not that I believe in "the secret" or anything, but this year has helped me to recognize some of the goals I have for the future... So rather than assuming I'm gonna get in a car accident now that I've put a ton of money into my car, I figured I should do this. 

I would like my car to last three to four more years, after which I should be in a relatively good place to make payments on a new one (assuming I find employment after grad school).

Employment at a place where I can have some work life balance, but also feel useful and enjoy my job.

An apartment after gradschool, honestly it would be nice to own, but even being able to afford an apartment that is relatively decent would be good. It is looking likely that I will be living with roommates throughout gradschool because I just can't justify living alone when it costs me an extra 2-3 hundred a month, that's three grand a year I could be saving or paying school debt with.

-so in the meantime a decent low rent place with some peeps maybe a little closer to the river.

Some new pairs of pants, even used without holes or ink stains. Gonna need it for work anyway. 

Gradschool- friends, maybe a girl friend. Some assignments and lessons that make me think. An internship where I get to interact with fun people at a good location.

Hobbies:

-Finish volume 1 before the end of gradschool and publish. That's two years  to write three and a half parts and edit the whole thing. 

Once it is done, I'll feel like I accomplished something, and can take my time on the sequel because already I can tell no one is interested... Existential science fiction is not a popular genre. 

-Start painting again. Maybe make a graphic novel of one of the stories.

-Do some work on the computer editing videos. 

-find a creative group of some sort... So that I don't feel on my own with these sorts of projects.

-have a desk/creative space. 

-practice Spanish occasionally- maybe internship will help. 

Consider Southeast Asia as a honeymoon spot if I ever find anyone. 

Old goals to keep around:

Gramps video

Poetry book

Cd

Clay sculptures

Painting in a gallery

6/7 continents ain't bad.

Been one of those weeks

It hasn't been brutal or anything but a gradual chipping away. Some how I misplaced or lost my iPod and headphones... Don't know where they went.  My car has been in the ship all weekend and the total is over a grand. Between school and rent another thousand. No luck on a new place so far. Cleaned the bathroom for over an hour, it's already dirty. Humid and hot out, flies and stickiness. 

Car

Hi, my car might die, either way it sounds like it's going to be expensive. Thanks 2016, you're the best. 

On a lighter note, Russ is writing a giantess/vore dark comedy. 

And I am basically ready to print rough draft #2. And send it to people.

Twice this week I have tried to go to bed early by limiting my caffeine intake during the day. Both times I was still up till dawn,  both times the following day was miserable with a migraine. 

Never stop drinking coffee. Or quit the beast forever. 

Today today

I went to bed late last night, like 5 am this morning... I was working on some additions to the book - which has felt very slug like lately. Basically I am trying to add in more description and help the story not jump so much, but it requires a lot of intention, and a little less creative abstract spark.

I woke up to a dream in which I had become a serial murderer and committed suicide rather than being punished or rewarded for my efforts. It was a weird very vivid dream, and I remember carving through my skin and opening up the veins in my wrist.  Also not knowing whether I should lock the door (certain death) or leave it unlocked and allow the possibility that someone might find me and save my life. 

When I woke up, I thought about how fucked up the dream was but felt attracted both by the vivid fantasy of it, and also by the sense of direction. Even in the dream I wasn't necessarily happy with the choice but I was following through with something, I was hurting people, I didn't want to excuse my actions, but I didn't want to pretend like I was someone else... I was just doing it. 

I tried to go back to sleep and succeeded, and stayed in bed till nearly  three pm. 

I was listening to best friends forever while I walked around the lake. The two girls sound so confident in their strangeness. Like "this is who I am!" Even if that makes me weird, love this!

Then I was watching all these people play Pokemon go, and considered whether I would enjoy that, meeting new people that way or whether I would meet them, have awkward conversation and then wish I could get away. 

Then after I was walking I was thinking a lot about the people I've basically rejected out of my introversion. How I've chosen to suppress some of my empath traits, or maybe reacted by covering them up and finding ways to block them... Like the opposite of aspergers.  

While I was thinking about it, I realized that there are tons of little social cues that I pick up on but completely choose to ignore or reject or even get frustrated with. 

Then I was scrolling through Facebook and I saw pictures of a person's birthday party for their kid, and thought -why the fuck would anyone choose to do that? Like have a big party and invite lots of people and be responsible for everyone's happiness...

Which made me wonder if I had kids would I make them socially awkward by having all these social hang ups. By questioning people's complacency and their buying in behaviors, their choice to play Pokemon Go, their choice to buy juice drinks and go to a trendy yoga studio and brag about these things. Their yuppy life, or their artsy life, or their model life, or their sporty life, or their activist life, or their social work life.

So anyway I guess the point of this is that I've been feeling very different from other people lately. Been feeling like I understand their behaviors and responses, but don't relate to them- and definitely don't feel they understand or relate to mine, or maybe that they see it but don't share/support it. 

A rant I was gonna post to Facebook.

It's irritating how within social studies, one field of study conflicts with another field so readily.

Political movements being a great example, where for messaging sake people on all sides outright lie, because psychology shows us that it's better to give a simple and coherent message than to share too much and complicate the matter, in this way you can rally people to your side and get your way. History reminds us that it was always more complex, that it was a lie with some truth but that may not have lead to the same conclusion if you had all the facts (which you never will! So support your argument better than the other people). Meanwhile sociology wants to look at and address the  underlying principles which are likely not even being acknowledged, economics in theory should also be doing that but in the US it is just trying to find a way to capitalize on it, and psychology reminds us that some people are feeling empowered by the struggle while others may grow indifferent or even become traumatized. Which some of those political scientists are banking on.

So what's the right answer? 

If you answered: 

A) All of the above 

B) some of the above 

C) a lot more than all of the above. 

You're probably right, but your test scores really don't matter after a few years anyway because Pearson just wanted to get rich so they sold the poorly written study materials text books and tests to your district and state... Except social studies isn't tested so really they just cut most of this stuff and told your kid that George Washington and Abe Lincoln were super honest and the US only fights good wars. 

 

People on the comments sections are bothering me.

Truths

It was 90+ and humid today. I walked the lake and then did some editing.  My wrist hurt so by 5:30 I was back home and watching Orange is the new black.

All I've been doing for weeks is watching Netflix. 

On the way home I was struggling... The other day I didn't go to this event I was interested in because I didn't want to interact with people.  Like specifically social anxiety, kept me from doing something, and on the way home I was trying to think of any person who I would feel comfortable hanging out with at the moment and couldn't think of anyone. 

Go to a movie? Sure.

Hang out? I don't think so.

I was in a terrible mood, already in pain, uncomfortable because of the heat... But I was considering how often I feel uncomfortable these days when I am interacting with people. How one by one I've cut people out of my life, and then continued to push them away. 

Sometimes I am aware that it is temporary or there is a cause, but not always. 

Lately I've been wanting to write more than just my book, but I can't really do anything without pain. the doctor says it will heal if I allow it to. 

One of the things I've been wanting to write is about the feelings of self pity, and anger I have towards some past relationships. I don't like where my heart is at, it seems pretty and short with people. It doesn't want to give.

 But I think I have stalled on writing about it because I want to honor the true feelings, and I am not sure what is what. 

Am I angry because I feel left out and left behind?   Am I angry because I allowed myself to invest in people who never fully invested back? Am I angry because I don't have a purpose right now, and id see the world from a better perspective if I did?  Am I angry because a few years ago I felt so proud, happy and lucky and now I feel so useless and cynical?  Am I angry because other people let me down or because I can't figure out a way to help myself up? 

What is it in me that is acting out all this hurt? And what am I supposed to do? And how? 

My inner self seems to be matching with the world.  I called my mom last week and told her how close I was to depression, she was saying that there were all these dark things in my book that matched the world right now, and I said sure, but they match me right now. 

I feel hopeless. Needy. Useless. And I don't know what I have to contribute that won't make me feel worse. I see the world in a way that makes me feel like no matter what I do, it will never be enough. And it makes me want to carve out a chunk for myself and shut the world off.  At the same time, I am so angry that people do that. That we collectively have decided to do that. 

I am unhappy and the only thing I can think to change that is a relationship, but some days I can barely stand my own company let alone someone else. I also keep assuming that in a few months when school starts it will be better... New people, a structure, a purpose... And yeah maybe I will meet someone. But I've been telling myself these things for so long... And I feel exactly the same way I felt in high school, more experience, more sure that I am capable.... But for what?

I'm sick of myself. 

By dictation

Using a dictation device in order to write this note find out shortly why. One of the super annoying parts of using this dictation app is that it doesn't do punctuation even long pauses and end words that would clearly end the sentence are not recognized. So the app is super frustrating in that you end up having to go in every couple minutes or seconds even and type in punctuation or clear up and define words and when you're using it specifically because you shouldn't be typing that is definitely annoying.

I have experienced this pain before the first time I remember it being this bad I had just typed a blog that was probably a few hours long on an iPad and I remember thinking that the force of the tapping on the screen over and over was what had caused the pain. I knew that it was coming on while I was typing but it was easy to ignore for a little while but afterwards I couldn't write for a week.  That first time I believe I was still traveling and so I had a lot to occupy my mind however writing is a huge part of travel for me and so I remember even then feeling really uncomfortable with the idea that I wouldn't be able to write for a while.

So the pain seems to come on from the lower part of my wrist. When I have my palm face up it's the side that is closest to me and what happens is it's not a particular angle or movement that causes the pain it's just present.From that point the pain radiates throughout mywrist and then into my hands to myfingers and then down the opposite way through my forearm basically to my elbow. When my palm is facedown the pain emanates from the spot in the center of my wrist and branches towards my knuckles and about halfway down my arm.Now because the pain does not come on do to any particular movement it is at first very easy to ignore. But over time the repeated movements start to increase the pain which becomes incredibly distracting.

So then what begins as a dull ache when I'm typing becomes a sort of all encompassing irritation that won't go away. In contrast to pain that I felt and other times or places which has made it impossible to think, this pain seems more able to stifle my thoughts in a way that keeps them from continuing onward but not quite making it impossible to think. For example yesterday I spent three hours typing the same three or four paragraphs over and over and over again. At the end of that slow progress I was happy with what I produced but I felt that the effort it took in order to accomplish such a small feat, was not worth the effort and that it removed the joy from the process.

The pain continued even after I was through typing, and left me in a state a kin to despair because with the mental anguish I felt alongside the actual pain I became very worried that I would not be able to continue writing. When I consider many of the joys in my life thus far they in many regards require a bit of physical dexterity as well as the mental capacity to present well formed ideas.

Consider drawing or painting or writing or any sort of use of a computer as examples. When I considered the level of anguish I felt concerning this new predicament, I became aware of the immediacy that the pain caused. At other points in my life I have often reflected on the way symptoms of mental illness such as depression can narrow a person's perspective or understanding of their life, and I found that the immediacy of this pain significantly narrowed my worldview as well. The extent of this narrowing was hard to define and even somewhat hard to consider given the pessimistic outcomes. For instancethe constant level of pain with seemingly noend quickly led me to envision cutting off my own arm finding it preferable within my imagination to substitute a prosthetic or even a stick that I could continue to use for typing. Furthermore I was troubled by notions that I would not be able to continue any of my favorite hobbies and considered a life without this form of creative expression to be a life not worth living.

Now being the reflective soul that I am, I did recognize these red flags as symptomatic of an untenable position within my daily life. In that the loss of a hobby should not necessitate amputation or thoughts of unnatural demise but what I quickly came to realize was that I hold these hobbies to be an essential expression of who I am as well as a way ofstaking my claim on the world. But Mike you say, don't you have so much more to offer so many reasons to live outside of your hobbies? Sure I reply but given the circumstances of my life these last few years the general decline of what could be considered my career trajectory my lack of romantic relationship or family or even a community in which I offer a necessary part, the truth is that I didn't see and perhaps don't still, any lofty reasons for continuing my existence, if the aforementioned inability should persist. This awareness caused me to reconsider something a friend asked a few days ago namely Mike are you depressed? And I responded at the time no which I still consider to be true however I am now much more aware of how easily I could slide into that state of mind.

This makes me wonder what is it that makes life worth living? In a few short months I will be attending grad school where I will be trained to consider more options and how to help people how to strengthen individuals and communities, but knowing this did not remove the  despair I felt with urgency in the moment. Knowing that I would upset friends and relatives did not remove the pessimistic worldview that led me to considering my own death. Being aware of other possibilities for how to enjoy life such as travel or enjoying music and art or movies did not remove my narrowness of vision. It was as if not being capable of adding to these experiences through written or artistic expression made the whole less meaningful.

 Even my ability to communicate verbally seemed utterly futile in comparison to the means of written communication and I recognize two different parts of this,first that my ability tovisually depict my thoughts is a cherished and entirely different skill set or  ability than the means to verbalize them. For example my dictation of this piece has been slowand far more frustratingly difficult to consider in real time than the process by which I communicate my thoughts in writing.  This notion is not something I haven't considered before and to the best of my ability the only conclusion I have been able to draw is that when writing I often feel as if I am guided by a muse whereas in verbalizing I have to carefully consider and reconsider eachthought and word on myown. it may be that I am just a visual learner but I cherishthe ease at which both logic and creativity flow from my fingertips.Secondly then and perhaps guided by my ego, there is the notion that written statements may be saved for posterity whereas a word spoken into the airsurely dissipates. This is the reason I choose to write poems, the reason for my endless blogs, for the journals that are never seen, for the notes on napkins and for my hope to publish even when I know a readership is doubtful. Ego what a joke.

So perhaps it is this ego that has suffered far more than my wrist, this ego that shrouds my creativity, that barricades away allnotions a possibility, that derives a sense of having been slighted, that is frustrated to self-pity and wishes an end rather than to toil at new beginnings.  

I am reminded that many amputees rate their life satisfaction equal or better one year after the loss of a limb and likewise that winners of the lottery are as likely a year later to report dissatisfaction and the loss of happiness which pointsto factors outside of the immediate and rather to the ongoing sense of purpose the connection with others in the community and a  level of resiliency to the daily pains, the ups and downs, the pitfalls that we all face and face better when we have others to rely on. 

So finally for posterity and for my own future reflection let me end by saying the following: I noticed my spirit growing lighter when later that evening I was chatting with a friend who sought me out not knowing of the pain and not caring because she believed in me regardless and knew that even if such a permanent change occurred I would still be worthwhile, or rather just worthy.

The Casual Descent Brought on by Time OFF

I've been struggling lately with confidence in the future, specifically me in the future.

Logically I am aware that I am going to Grad School in the fall. I now know I will be interning part time at a community center I like. I will likely work a part time job in addition to these things... and for the most part, that will take up my days.
I imagine it will be two years that goes by under a fairly constant level of strain, not distress but not relaxed, shuffling from project to project, from one appointment on a calendar to the next. I can also imagine that I will try to sneak friends in on the side, as well as the obligatory family gatherings. I will look for someone to date, I will try to do some reading for fun, and some writing -which I mostly imagine will be taken up by Papers and work assignments.  I won't like my part time job, but I will be grateful for the handful of cash that allows me to get through the day with just a little less debt. I may also enjoy the reprieve from difficult things, from mental exertion and compassion, to just "What size Mocha do you want? and with whip?" I may live here unhappily, or I may move and be just as discontent.  I will try to exercise, but likely won't have time. I will try to do other things that are healthy, but likely will pass them by for whatever is most expedient.   And this sinkhole of debt and strain will last a few years.

I will graduate with a Masters but will have to continue practicing in order to get a license for private practice. I may delay on that path because I don't want to be stuck in a room listening to a person at a time, ALL THE TIME. I'll be able to pay off the debt because my grandparents made more money than I could ever hope to. I'll look for something that makes me feel passionate, but instead will land in a job that is draining, and only worth the reward half the time. It won't pay anything so major life purchases will again be put on the dime of someone else. I'll sneak away from time to time for travel. It will seem exciting, and then not. I'll start little audiovisual projects on the computer and maybe finish them. I will keep a guitar or a keyboard around, but I will rarely touch them. I will always have art materials, but months will go by without any effort. I may learn Spanish, here and there, little leaps each time building confidence, but not necessarily fluency. I will write, as I always have, little journal entries, poems and stories, maybe finish a book or a collection,  or give a performance, but likely it won't really have any traction. I will read a lot, and each time wonder why I didn't know that... or believe it to be some new fundamental way of seeing the universe but that ends up changing  my life course in no significant way.
I may or may not date someone. It seems just as likely either way.
I may not have kids because I can't imagine adopting on my own, and if I have a partner we may decide we are too old, or too broke. I may work up the resolve someday to have a cat of my own, but I still won't want to take care of it -same with a yard, same with the universe. I will have roommates because I can't afford to live alone. Or I will have a small apartment. Or I will buy a house and rent out some of it.
I will probably always feel guilty for not making time for people, feel like I should be more invested in community than I am, but when given the opportunity, I'll hide.

Maybe there will be a window of opportunity in which I decide to gamble on some alternate future, some new passion, or a profession in which I take some hobby seriously. Maybe I will meet someone who pushes me into something new, or maybe I will get caught up in the wrong vice, leave the wrong trail and succumb to some societal mishap/failure. Maybe I will die in an accident, or have a body/personality changing experience.

But it's interesting because when I look back I see a clear line that lead here, repeated patterns I am still enacting despite becoming aware of them, and because I am far more stuck in my personality and behaviors than I ever really realized, I see it heading in this direction only.
I am not sure what else there is... what possibilities could occur that would branch from this point in any meaningful way. Perhaps a family. Perhaps global catastrophe. But really it seems pretty straight forward and a bit dull. I love people, but also find them boring. I love learning and processing new information, but also find it unfulfilling. I love helping and serving, but find it draining. I love creating and reflecting but also find it irritating when I can't accomplish what my mind says I should be able to.

Most days I think I am pretty resigned and ok with this. But lately, because I haven't been working and haven't been able to stay as focused as I would like, I am disappointed.

A couple days ago I said it would be nice to not wake up. It wasn't a suicidal thought, nt even necessarily depression, just a boredom thought: if each day is the same, and leads down the same path, why not skip a few here and there. I probably wouldn't even notice.

I can't even picture working anywhere right now because I imagine it to exhaust me in the same way. I can't imagine investing in a person, loving them the way I have people in the past, because it seems to exhausting to be not guaranteed a return. I'd love a vacation just to change things up, but in my ordinary day to day (when I have tons of time) I do the exact same things every day.

Craving novelty without the exertion to find it.

Gjnvfdd

I tried to be productive today, checked the list and all. 

Contemplated computers and their relation to the brain. 

Stayed up way too late playing a silly game.

Still feel like I lost.

Strange how sometimes I claim an  advanced position, other times feel behind.  

It would be nice to not wake up tomorrow. 

I should rename this blog- mike frantically writing down his dreams.

I spent the evening with her. The dynamic was painted in her favor, with the world coalescing above her shoulders and me attempting to do what I could to remove it, without ever actually asking why? Why do you put yourself in this position? Why do you drag me into it? Why am I of so little importance and yet always tagging along. 

In my head I play the role of caring friend, would be protector until the end... And apparently tonight was the end.

We were at a bar-restaurant. Nowhere I would choose, but I'd gone to play the role. The conversation was pleasant and surface and catching up, until slowly the insecurities and jealousies started spilling out. It began innocently, but built to become a fortress. A small slight, (you weren't able to get tickets to a show you wanted to see) became the world against you, your friends, your family, and I picture myself as a safeguard, a spillway, but the conversation left so little room for me. I fought and kicked to stay in your neutral eye, not even the positive, but not against you. 

A man approached. Friendly. You grew defensive, I reacted and sent him away. Your mind tried to solve the puzzle, and painted him a key piece. You wanted my help to escort you. You were already a mess, and frantic, and in survival mode but the idea that you could retrieve or rebuild some lost foundation by talking to this man -seemed plausible, but when I think about it, only because you asked me to be there. No one chases a pack of dogs into a back alley when they are drunk and emotional without receiving new scars. 

You said something about trying to figure out why you have no reflex to self protect, I said that you did and it was strong but only in the moments of absolute necessity. Perhaps I had it all backwards... And realized that -as you began to sniff around the dogs. 

We approached. His friends sat around -ones you didn't know. They seemed like ordinary people, not the beasts of their past lives.  You pretended to buy something, then, even though you'd been ready to go home, you bought two tickets to a later show - something hours away, and I had to push myself- reimagining hours more of this charade.

The restaurant closed. We sat in a back hallway staring at the neon glowing signs that displayed where each club and restaurant were in the building. 

The bench was at first empty, but people left the closing restaurants, they packed in, and the tension they held about their bodies was the same. People in various states of reveal, clothed in jealousies held tight to the chest or shoved in each others faces, in various states of playing the roles. The dogs circled and sniffed about. Some people pet street dogs and get bit. He had a look in his eye that promised mischief, but you thought him flirting, you thought him promising you something I couldn't. I was looking up your directions to walk you through the night and return you safely, I was looking for the boring things people do to entertain each other- when their company is all you really need. You saw me on a phone, and compared it to the glimmer in his eye, and the sparkle of his teeth. 

You turned just slightly and stood up. The beast of a man caught my eye as he assured you.  I recognized what was happening and reacted:

Physically shoving you into his arms. 

As you turned the corner into the alley I did change my mind, I looked. You were gone. So i returned to your things, you left your purse, your jacket. 

All the vulnerable things you'd need kept safe after you returned bleeding...

I woke up and hated myself for doing it. For acting with such anger. But I am pretty sure I walked away, let you be devoured whole. 

And I think the thing that made me angry was not that you were so foolish, or that I acted out, but that the combination of it all meant that in your mind I would no longer be good or neutral, but one of the dogs. That no matter what I said or did, it  was the world against you, with you hellbent to prove it by pushing me away and allowing yourself to be crushed by it. 

The physical person changed a few times during the dream, but the presence was one person. The roles were too familiar. I wonder what I am learning that I can see it so plainly.  And what I am not learning, in that I have no idea how to solve this issue. 

I've been avoiding relationships specifically because I am sick of this dynamic. I am sick of trying to be what the other person wants me to be, always thinking of what they might want me to say before I say something, never sure what to share or not share about myself because I want to be liked. Seeing in a moment the shift of the eyes that signals that line has been crossed.  If it is someone new that line is not so important. Someone old, more so. 

But also I hate my way of reacting, sulking, acting out, making decisions that hurt myself and others in the long run, because I'm unwilling to be honest at the right time... I hate being both these people. I can see this role playing out a million times over and it makes me want to hide instead of asking. 

I'm hiding from this. From this vulnerability, this push and pull of needs that can't be met, and needs for self destruction, because honesty is never a possibility, never assured at least. 

I am sick of playing the roles, so I am not playing any... Not seeking them out and irritated when they call me. 

This dream has never happened. There is not a single actual experience in this situation that is true physically. But at the same time I have never had such an honest dream that so clearly demonstrated the monstrosity of it all, and every single detail was in its right place. Which is the wrong place. 

Fjords

That autocorrected title...

I woke up at five and haven't been able to sleep.  Do you remember this?  The not quite excitement not quite anxiety...

I'm feeling overwhelmed with the idea that I can't please everyone, and also that I am never satisfied.   It used to mean adding more productive things to my plate. These last years, it's meant subtracting them.  But  I can't find my car keys, and my room is too small to contain the ever growing amount of stuff. And I need more in order to be a human on this planet.  And I'm caught again in the web of my actions being unethical - spending money I don't have on things I shouldn't have.  

I think I am scared that I won't like the social work gigs.   That I won't have any free time to be human, cuz I'll be my role again. 

And people keep asking about my haircut. Significant. 

Today

I went to an interview at an agency where they do refugee resettlement. It was nice, but I also realized that basic needs stuff/basic getting started doesn't really appeal to me. I could definitely do the job, would probably be helpful to learn the skills. Not sure what kind of impression I made, I realized I was being kind of quiet, but also giving very thoughtful and somewhat practical answers. I was really impressed with the questions they'd come up with. It was a good interview on her part.

I've been listening to Hamilton and loving it. The musical really transports you to the  world they created, though it's not quite late 1700s, and it's also not today.  Still it's universal. You cry and laugh and want the best for them. 

I lost my car keys again.  I got a tax bill. I might have screwed up with applying for state health insurance. It's hard to navigate things and it feels like my fault for not knowing. 

I think it's interesting how some people are captivating. There are a bunch of beautiful women that I see while at work, and I know nothing about them, but I am enchanted. I stare a lot, and try not to. But often when I am staring I am trying to figure out what it is about their face that is so mesmerizing. Often times I pick apart their features and in my head it doesn't add up to "the most beautiful" sometimes I even have this moment of realizing they aren't even that attractive - like someone else might be considered more cute or pretty, but nonetheless there is something that makes it hard to turn away from some people. Some glow, or curve, or color...  I spend a lot of time thinking about one. And then the next comes along and then I consider the next until the one after that... It's funny how attraction snares you. 

Looking at different paths forward, applying for and interviewing with social work agencies and community centers. I have identified two main themes: 

a) immigrants/broad community services

And

b) men's issues 

Not sure which path to pursue more readily. I think it is likely that I would move closer to whatever agency I am working with this summer. 

Been getting lots of headache lately. A little concerning, makes me feel less inclined to do things. 

I saw a post about how baby boomers were gonna retire from teaching positions... The old repeated forecast and yet before they went they slashed and burned the fields behind them, making it an impossible profession... Boomers man...

Oh    Hey there. Been awhile.

Just ran into a random dude, named K. It's interesting how easy it is to to meet people when they are traveling but totally impossible when they live here. We had lunch together and I took him to the airport. It was nice. Lots of real talk. 

Maybe I should move to Georgia. 

Dream of maybes and aging?

I approached the crowd of people cautiously, I didn't understand the rules of the game, but i was interested. It seemed to involved throwing fruit at each other. I didn't want to get hit accidentally. 

I swarmed about between the lines of people casually tossing their apples and plums from hand to hand as they waited. Then something shifted, and I realized it was too late, the game was over. 

Much of the crowd dispersed and I looked for a friendly face.

I saw a girl I recognized but couldn't remember her name or anything. A life time ago she might have been a crush, but at this point she was a shared remembrance, but I knew no one else so I plopped myself down and pretended like we'd known each other our whole lives. I was in an extroverted kind of mood, I felt energized by the crowd. I started chatting with her, she seemed to be charmed by it, but I looked down at my hands and realized they were gross looking. Old dry cracked from washing too many dishes. 

A guy came up, looking for help. 

Laurel appeared and I figured I should probably hang with her instead of the strange one. The guy said something about popcorn and I realized they were setting up for a movie in the park -kin of thing. I went with him to be helpful and figures out how to get the popcorn going. Then I rummaged through someone's bathroom for lotion, but only found hair gel. I went into her room and saw an abundance of colorful stuff, all hair and makeup and accessories. Like tons of it. But no lotion. 

When I walked back I ran into Kt, she suggested I go with her so I did. She led me to a room where some people from high school were, Ashley and hallow and Jess. They were sharing candy and other things. I contributed and they made me feel very welcome. Then things started escalating, sexual tension turned into flirting and then coupling up. 

She flung herself into my lap, upside down, it was an awkward angle where all I saw was her stomach, but I kissed it anyway. 

Her skin began to loosen, small tufts of it like tabs pulling off. And I was disgusted but I didn't want her to know.  

4:19 am

Today I woke up late, walked to bad waitress, then to spyhouse. Reread some Rumi. Re-read some only notes, stories, dreams, poems and blog posts. Listened to some girls have an annoying conversation. Wondered if maybe I shouldn't try - or rather put weight on trying to make my life or this world something better... Like maybe it's ok, and I just need to learn to live. Added to some chapters in the book. Ate dinner. Returned to spyhouse and read some more Rumi. Walked home and listened to some music, wrote some more, watched the gop debate. Fell asleep. Woke up, considered the world, my life, my writing. The perpetual anxiety of trying to make something of it all.  Want to sleep, but head keeps swirling, whirling dervishing away. 

How math ruins plans (two weeks ago)

The other day my dad started talking about a business venture, he was trying to say that it wasn't a good idea, but when he originally mentioned it he said it like it was positive -- so I tried to crunch the numbers with him and it ended up seeming like a raw deal. We discussed some of the factors that come into play, such as opportunity costs, tax breaks and tax disensentives. 

It's 4:30 AM and I am having a hard time justifying the idea of grad school. It's the upfront cost that bothers me. $42,000 for two years tuition, but also an expectation that I won't be able to work full time (and possible even part time during that two years). 

The social work jobs pay roughly equal to teaching jobs without the steps that the unions guarantee. So... Back to non-profit work in which i take payouts while the admin gets bonuses. 

Let's say the whole two years actually costs me 70,000. It's not unreasonable I've heard lots of people have that kind of debt. 

So I know in my last job I was able to save about 5,000 a year... So that's 14 years plus interest. Assume (and I sure do hope that this the case) that I have a family during this time - and it becomes double that. This is 14-25 years of paying  off monthly loans while working jobs that are incredibly difficult. This is 14-25 years without traveling, major purchases etc. 

14-25 years of the stress of obligation. 

I am lucky enough to have some money on the side that might clear this up, but the risk is that I use the money and never earn it back, basically making my kids poorer, making them have to take on the college debt etc.

The positives of the degree:

New area of opportunity/different jobs

Credentials to add to my experience

New area of study/deepening knowledge

Time with likeminded people

Investment in myself as a community member/caregiver

License to practice private counseling (eventually)

Both my parents turn 60 this year. One is struggling financially more than the other despite the fact they have the same degree(also the degree I'd be getting). A lot of the difference comes from family background not choices. 

My mother has turned her degree into a private business, she is very successful. She's been working in the field for decades and didn't start the private practice until halfway, and didn't invest in it fully until less than 10 years ago. 

I assume a lot of her success has been through building the contacts and earning a solid reputation in the field - which takes time. 

I guess what I am wondering is, is this actually a good investment. Or would my time, money and energy be better spent elsewhere? 

And how do I know? 

Decisions Decisions

Been reading the Bhagavad Gita. The other day I am sure it saved me from being mean to a coworker. Today...

Its the story of a man (Arjuna)  in a moment of great doubt concerning a decision. He asks his friend Krishna, who is also God, what he should do.  Krishna says he should act (wisely). Arjuna isn't satisfied, he wants to know how and why, he questions the path, and how he should know which is the right path. He asks about far more than the question at hand, he wants the answers to the Universe.  Krishna continues to indulge Arjuna, answering each question.

Arjuna eventually begins to question God, he attempts to do so respectfully, but he wants to know why he should trust the answers he is being given. Arjuna says "Let me see you" and Krishna allows him to see what no man has ever seen.  Arjuna describes it simultaneously as terrifying and joyous "A thousand suns exploding in the sky" he says he sees his enemies and loved ones alike being gnashed in Krishna's teeth and Krishna concurs that all things begin and end according to him, so their deaths and rebirths are already swirling in his thousands of mouths. Arjuna begs forgiveness for questioning his fate, his choices, his path and most of all Krishna, but Krishna reminds him that is why he is there... he comes to meet the faithful, to help them come to him.

A few days ago I turned 32, the culmination of decisions both active and passive.

I applied to Grad School officially the night before, with the hope that it might shed some light on my purpose.

Today

My Step Brother asked if I wanted to look for a place to live with him and Lacey told me she was engaged.

Life continues to swirl in and out of God's mouth, and I continue to question the path... the right path, the myriad paths in each stranger's eyes.  I am comforted by my small world, and simultaneously concerned that I am falling further and further into a darkness, an isolation, a place I might not ever return from.

I choose little things, like grad schools, and church services, as attempts to keep me anchored in the larger world, but I don't really want to commit to either.  I also want to ignore emails, texts, voice-mails, conversations... I want to sit alone in my room with my bloated stomach, nauseous from candy while I lose myself in mindless entertainment. I want to wake or not wake, and shuffle to a coffee shop and tapper out a story, a shifting, ever-ongoing path for make believe characters.

My mind is reluctant to clutch at shared meaning, my hands even more so for clothed shoulders.

I find a bit of voyeuristic pleasure in the faces that pass before me, but the more I study them, the more convinced I become that I don't share enough in common, that the pleasure would fade, and witness it fade as I consider it. In the moment I wonder if the path subtly chose me, or if I subtly chose the path.

Do I feel detached because that is where I am supposed to be? Witnessing myself, reassessing, considering, writing... Or do I feel detached because I chose these things over serving others?

and which is the path, and how do I know which is right, and how do I know I should trust that answer?

Most people have been reassuring me, but I often get the impression they are actually reassuring themselves. "Mike, you aren't really gone, because I don't want you to be."

Sometimes I believe them. Most of the time I don't.
Most of the time I am pretty comfortable with where I am at, I just dislike that I am. 

Generational Cycles

I was thinking about the conversation I had with Gabi a few days ago. About the disillusionment we both felt with the system and how perhaps its not so different than the generations of the past. That perhaps as a young educated 20 something with not a lot of responsibilities - a person feels idealistic and empowered and ready to take on a big mean world, and make it better... but by their 30s and 40s they've realized just how big and unwilling to change the world truly is, how heavy their responsibilities will be. That their individual impact wont be as big as they hoped. That their defeats, their mistakes, their failures have a much bigger impact on their bodies and minds and relationships the older they get.  
You'd think we become better at dealing, but perhaps like our brains narrowing down the scope of what we are capable of learning easily, our person, our perception of what is possible also narrows into the path of least resistance. We choose comfort and security because they are the natural choice for those who have exhausted themselves... but perhaps it is also naive to think our 20s will be the only time we have the energy to make change. 

Maybe we can be radicals in our 50s when we've amassed some security to fall back on?

Just don't let your pessimism today keep you from being an optimist tomorrow. I've met some badass hopeful people in their 70s.

First post of the year

Sorry it may seem depressing.

When I returned home about 6 months ago I had a sense of optimism despite the fact that I knew I would be choosing a fairly limited sort of life.

I still want that life, or part of me does. I dream of a quiet, safe, clean home. I want friends who I trust and who relate or inspire me. I want time to practice my hobbies, to get lost in them, to watch Netflix or whatever. I want a partner. And financial security and all these white picket fence dreams... 

But when asked what I lost last year, my answer was my sense of purpose. And though I want those other things, I'm wondering if I've given up far too much by not pursuing purpose rather than self protection.

I realized this morning that I'm not just cynical, I'm angry. I am angry that there are a world of problems out there with simple solutions that we don't choose. That there are ways to make life better for other people, and we collectively choose not to. That we hide our heads in the sand when facing environmental catastrophe. That we make it easier for people to self protect, miserable and lonely and selfishly, rather than reward those who choose to make life better. 

I spent 6 years trying to make life better and burnt out. Despite being surrounded by lovely people who cared deeply about me, it wasn't enough. The burden was too much and I felt it slipping further each day and lost my confidence in both myself and the system to hold it up again. And I'm not just dissatisfied with that, I'm hurt by it, and I'm angry about it.

I'm angry at our society which chooses death over life. Chooses the easy choices which devastate, over the difficult one which could heal us. I'm angry at individuals who live the way I'm choosing to right now, like there isn't something better, like caring is too hard. I'm angry at myself for wanting it all, and for needing security, for needing healing, for needing the things the system chooses not to share... And I'm angry at God, or the universe or whatever... Not because it makes us selfish, but because it makes us care and doesn't provide the solutions. The breakthroughs.  Gives us huge hearts and not enough string to stitch them back together after each and every moment of heartbreak. 

It would be ok if we were all poison, if the human race was the virus that needed to be wiped out, if we were evil monsters, sociopaths who didn't care about anyone but ourselves... But we're not. 

We're beautiful, loving, creative and compassionate... And so deeply wounded, so deeply convinced the world is sorrow and pain, and not worth the effort. 

My response was to write. I know I need to write... I want to write. 

But I also want purpose.  I want a heart that reaches instead of always hiding. I want reassurance that it matters. 

I've lost it, and I'm waiting, not patiently for it to come back.