I wasn’t sure if I would make it through the first episode; actually I knew I would make it through the first episode because I almost always hope it would get better, I wasn’t sure if I would go on to the second.
I am not a fan of ironic racism/bigotry, even when it’s spread around to as many marginalized groups as possible. You always know whose on the pedestal.
Anyway, it got better. Still problematic.
What do you do when you can’t do the thing you love, the thing that you know the most about?
I’m still not employed and I’m not sure I know why or what else I can do besides the thing that I am doing.
I have lost everything.
“Rejection is the sand in the oyster, the irritant that ultimately produces the pearl.” ~Burke Wilkinson
The thing is not every oyster irritated by sand will make a pearl and not all pearls are the same.
The optimist in me understands the nature of irritants. Irritants are challenges to be met; changes to my world that I might not voluntarily make but which can lead to my growth and expansion. Opportunities can be created by irritants.
The Skeptic in me knows that one doesn’t always get pearls. Sometimes the most one can get is to get rid of the irritant; just be done with it instead of continuing the irritation. Irritants can be dealt with in various ways; some of those ways may indeed result in pearls. The Cynic is wary of pearls. But then all I’m left with is the irritant without the optimistic joy of possibilities and pearls.
I suppose the issue is that when I’m feeling cynical, I don’t care about pearls; I’m wrapped in the horror of the sand. The downside of that thinking is that maybe I miss the opportunity to work on my pearl making.
scared…there’s stuff to do that; things that aren’t hard. There’s just this feeling of needing to do everything right or everything falls apart. That’s my fear. I just need to do what needs to be done. i don’t have to do it perfect.
Khaleesi and them dragons though!
I have dark thoughts, mingled with the optimism. Maya Angelou said, about Stamps Arkansas that it was a place where she was “terribly hurt and vastly loved” and that phrase sticks with me as an adequate description of life: a place where I have been terribly hurt and vastly loved.
I don’t want to think this way. I want these dark thoughts to be gone from my head so that what would be left is hope and optimism and gratitude all the time. I don’t even know what that would look like to be relentlessly optimistic without the darkness.
I am afraid and trying to make no moves for fear that any move will cause this place I am in to fall completely to pieces. I am afraid of “complete destruction” of my life as I’ve known it. I mean really my life as I had known it died with her. and I’m in this nothingness. so what is there to be afraid of? that is the thought that terrifies me because if the darkness takes off with it, then I’m likely to be dead soon.
dark thoughts are just thoughts. just thoughts.
The thing about being smart is that if one is smart enough, one knows that one is not as smart as one thinks one is. For me, it feels like a sort of narcissistic self-flagellation; inescapable and self defeating in it’s certainty on both points.
“I don’t want to tell you what to do…” or “I’m not trying to tell you how to do your job” or “I’m not trying to say that you’re wrong”…I don’t say any of these out loud. I don’t say anything at all because I know I won’t be listened to, my directives will not be followed, my opinion will be disregarded. I only seethe about it for a minute for now; I’ll add it to the worry reel, later. “If you would just listen to me” I would feel better; fuck how you feel. But that’s not how polite people work. and I am a polite people.
This is not just a one off kind of thing that happens once in a while with people who are genetically engineered to be stubborn, narcissistic assholes who never listen to anybody. It would make sense then that I am not to be listened to. Those guys don’t listen to anyone. And I’m typically not a fatalist when it comes to offering up opinions. I have a belief in my capabilities, my knowledge, my ability to apply reason to most situations that I run into, and an absolute willingness to say I don’t know once I’ve run out of guesses. I’d even go so far as to admit that I hesitate only briefly when admitting I am wrong. Disregard the hesitation, please. IF I’m wrong, I’ll get to admitting I’m wrong because it’s just easier.
How about when I have to admit that I’m right? there’s no ticker tape parade for that one. And rarely does the fanfare rise to the level of the fanfare when I’m wrong. I digress.
feedback: not a good fit and not “technical” enough for the role. If I believe they are right, then it negates the last 16 years of experience and capability building I’ve done.
I don’t want to die anymore
but I’m still too
distracted by the futility of living
the need to search for meaning
overwhelms the search itself
and all I do is wander