Write / Wrong.

I do hope that if there are people out there who read my blogs, that they don’t take what I say too seriously.

When I write, I tend to open up my mind and pour out exactly what I am thinking, and (as close to) the way I am thinking it, at that exact moment in time. My opinion, if you could even call it that, is most likely to change shortly after. Not always, of course, but I have been known to read back over some posts from last year and find myself thinking: What the hell was I talking about.

I think a lot. And when I think too much, it needs somewhere to go obviously. If I don’t write it down, sooner or later, it will come out like word vomit. And it never comes out right, really. Even when I do write it out. I can always explain things so much better to myself in my head than I can verbally, or on paper (or the screen, to be specific).
My thoughts seem boring, trite. And they are trite. I over-think; so I over-describe and over-explain. And over again.

I guess all I’m trying to say is that if you disagree with something I write in my blogs, then I’m probably wrong. But that doesn't necessarily mean you're right.

Fish Guts.

“All anybody ever wants is a nice person to hang out with until we die. Is that too much to ask?” – Lorelai Gilmore.


The extremes. From watching other people’s lives unfold and from my own personal experiences, I find it hard to understand how you can go from being in someone’s life day in and day out for, quite possibly, years… to hardly ever speaking. It’s two different extremes. More than anything, it’s trying to break yourself from the habit.
For so long, you’ve had this one person that you hold above everyone else that you know. They’re the first person you’d think to call in any situation – good or bad – and they’re the first person who will come running. And when the rug is pulled out from underneath you and you can’t – rephrase: shouldn’t – call them anymore, it’s a difficult thing to get used to.

What they say is a lie. About the fish. There aren’t really that many in the sea. Not that many that are “compatible”, anyway. If you’re happy to settle for just anyone, then sure, grab a line. But if you’re looking for something in particular, then no. It’s not going to prove easy.

And the whole process of getting out there and having to look around for something in particular, while it can be exciting, it’s also kind of depressing and quite often rather disappointing. You don’t mean to fill your head with these expectations, but it’s unavoidable I’ve found. It’s a part of your subconscious that is hard to control; even with an open mind.

How do you know that you’ve come across the right person?
You just know.
But how do you ‘just know’?
I don’t know. You just do.
Isn’t there some kind of sign or something?
Not really. When you know, you know.
I thought I knew last time and look how that turned out.
…Shit.

You see, you can’t know. It’s impossible. I wish I could tell you that it was, but it wasn’t. You really just have to wind yourself back to the one and only thing that you can truly rely on, which is yourself.
What does your gut tell you? And don’t lie to me. You do so know what your gut is telling you.

Blame.

Nobody ever has sympathy for the parents. The only emotion felt towards parents in any kind of situation where their child has made a mistake – especially big mistakes – is blame. You’ve heard them. “It sure makes you wonder about the parents.”
Does it? You can’t wrap your sixteen year old in cotton wool. You can’t watch him day in and day out. He leaves in the morning and comes home of an evening and you assume that he’s gone to school, but you can’t know for sure. You just have to hope to God that everything you taught him in his early years actually sank in and he’s out there being a respectable and sensible human being.

But you can only teach him so much. Somewhere along the way he has to take your advice and teachings and kind words, and run with it on his own. If he falls out of line or makes a terrible, terrible mistake then you can’t really blame yourself. You ALWAYS could have done more. Of course you could have. You could have spent more time with him or hugged him more or… or something. Of course you could have. But really, chances are that whatever he has done has nothing to do with you and everything to do with him.

If a kid commits a murder the sympathy from the general public is directed towards the victim and the victim’s parents. But hey, what about the kid’s parents? Yesterday they had (what they thought was) a happy, healthy sixteen year old son, and now they realise he’s grown up to be a murderer. So, they sue those parents for being negligent parents. Negligent parents? Not necessarily, but whatever they can do to make sure they get even, they’ll do it.

It’s hard to say what could be going through someone’s mind, or what could actually drive someone to be so mad that they’re willing to spend the rest of their life in jail as long as their victim can never take another breath. It’s something that we, as the general public and community, struggle to understand and probably always will struggle to understand. And I suppose it’s not necessarily something that you want your mind to be able to understand either. You question it, but you don’t really want your mind to go there.

So I suppose that, yes, it does make you wonder about the parents.
It makes you wonder how they’re going to keep dragging themselves out of bed of a morning, opening the blinds and face the day. Because they blame themselves and so does everyone else. And that can’t be easy to carry around everyday. It can’t be easy at all.

It's Kind of Like an Epiphany.

Fear. The word itself is scary; it’s scary to be scared of something. Nobody really likes to admit being afraid. But I mean, sometimes, you have to. In order to let someone in, or just to let it out. Sometimes to help control the fear, you need to talk about it. Let someone put your mind at ease.
Someone who said to me only a few days ago that he’s not afraid of anything told me last night what he’s scared of. I didn’t make a big deal about it, or even dare to remind him of his “I’m not afraid of anything” speech. He was sharing something with me that I wasn’t sure he was capable of.

We’ve all been hurt before. If we hadn’t, then we wouldn’t be where we are today. Who we are today. Past pains and grief and anger get you from there to here, and ‘here’ is usually a better place to be. But it’s when you’re afraid of being happy and comfortable again in fear of loosing it – that’s when you’ve really been hurt.

I think that a lot of people have a hard time wrapping their minds around the fact that everybody is different. Just because you’ve been kicked to the curb before doesn’t mean that the next person will. It doesn’t mean that they won’t either, but it certainly doesn’t mean that they will. The fear can hold you back from enjoying what is right in front of your face. If you’re living for the future, then you’re missing out on now. The past is gone, and the future isn’t here yet. The present is here now – and if you’re happy right now, you’re doing better for yourself than the vast majority. So what do you have to be afraid of, huh?