Tuesday, June 27, 2006

Navigation system missing

I am in dire need of a moral mentor. I have a lurking suspicion that I am, in fact devoid of a common moral character that seems common sense to those around me. Perhaps, even, I am relatively amoral.

Granted, there are certain morays that I am unwilling to transgress. But I am not convinced that that is because I honestly feel it to be fundamentally wrong and immoral, so much as I am aware that this is what people will expect of me. I am aware of the social propriety and am able to apply these concepts practically. Is it a determination of right and wrong, or is it a trained response to avoid social ostracism?

Best case scenario....I possess a particular kind of awareness that allows me to identify control structures and am able to pick and choose which I deem actually moral or immoral. Seems unlikely.
Worst case scenario...My lack of true moral guidance will damage myself and others....and I might not care. But if I decide that I do care, then I am condemned to upholding moral institutions that I don'e believe in simply to feed my desire for social interaction.

Friday, June 23, 2006

A Pillar of Strength, or Column of Apathy?

Is there a difference between being emotionally strong, and simply not caring as much as the next person?

A person is a source of emotional strength is able to deal with other people's problems without letting it affect them too much. They are able to listen and aid without becoming drawn down into the muck themselves.

If a person simply wasn's invested in your emotional well being, could they not do the same thing, with less authenticity or with less care for the outcome of their advice?

Wednesday, June 21, 2006

Literary Impotence

It's not performance anxiety....well, in some cases it is. But not right now. Right now I simply lack the desire, the necessary agitation to get it up for papers. The magic seems to have dissappeared somewhere along the line. I dont really know when it happened. I suppose it was more of a gradual thing. I mean, I've been doing it for so long, maybe it's begun to lose novelty?

Is this a common problem? Should I be seeking help?

Maybe I've been doing it too much...too much independant writing. It might be sucking away my desire/outlet. I suppose I could always drink less.....no, I couldn't. There's no hope.

Monday, June 12, 2006

Composed between sleeping and awakening

I feel like this should become something more:

I walked up to the bar
and sat down beside my pain.
Fiddling with a napkin,
I offered my pain a drink.
"Just water," he said, "I prefer to live in clarity."
I told him to suit himself, and ask the barkeep for a scotch.
I prefer to live in ease.

Update on the Awkward

A friend of mine was dabbling in the online dating community and sent me some links to laugh at. I started poking around and found a particular entry that I would have actually considered writing to. Until i slowly realised that I already knew this guy and am already mildly infatuated with him.

Not really the most exciting, but the only experience where I had embarassment that was witnessed only by myself. Must be noteworthy if there was that much impact.

Friday, June 02, 2006

A small collection of offerings

Why is it that the behaviour that we condemn in teenagers as angsty and pathetic is treated as tortured and romantic, even artistic in middle aged adults?
Slutting around, drinking, possibly drug abuse and then writing about it does not seem like behaviour that should be time sensitive.

How are we, as a society, so desperate for love? Relationships are started without regard for true validity of feeling and are therefore over before anyone has time to breathe and all because longing causes us to make rash decisions as though each chance we have is our very last chance at happiness. On the same note, we also seem to expect considerably more from each of these crap shoots...demanding perfection from people equally as imprefect as ourselves. There is a lack of effort put into making relationships work. We have ultimately made people just as disposable in our lives as we have made every other thing in our lust for consumption.