Another Way

Is there another way to look at it?

Hmmm this prompt made me stop and think for a moment. There’s been a lot of tough and complicated situations in my life. I’ve had a lot of hard things to deal with and overcome. In general I, and the rest of my family, seem to have rather bad luck; for lack of a better term. Though I try to not let the negative get me down or get stuck in my mind I can’t deny that it does. Its very easy for my mind to instantly start a cycle when something doesn’t go as planned. I start a downward spiral into worry and dread as my mind conjures all the worst possible outcomes. Logically I know this isn’t healthy and that while yes, these outcomes could happen they aren’t written in stone. Often things don’t turn out in the most horrible way that my mind has depicted, and sometimes it does. Yet, is there another way to look at it? Yes, there is and its something I need to think about more often.

There’s been recent times in my life that I get my blinders on and look at a situation or perspective one sided. I get stuck in a loop and go on and on, only looking at things one way. Then a friend or family member will say something that snaps me back to reality and forces me to look at a different perspective. This isn’t always pretty as life has an ugly side. Its human nature to not want to realize that your line of thinking may not be quite right or even entirely wrong. But looking at things in another light can help break down the walls we build around ourselves. There’s been times I’ve kept myself from moving forward, from embracing an opportunity to make my life better because I can only see one side of the situation. Its not always easy but if I can make myself stop for a moment, unlock my brain, and look at things in another way I may be able to help my life progress in the direction I want.

Then there’s the cynical part of me and really humanity as a whole. We get set in our ways and cannot conceive another way of thinking. This line of thinking is dangerous. When we fail to look at things in another way, from another’s point of view, we teeter on the edge of harm; and some fall off. When we fall into a pit where one way of thinking is the only right way we can conceive, hate and fear ensue. Hatred and fear lead to such atrocities as racism, homophobia, bigotry, harassment and the like. These things can lead us to harming other people because we get stuck in one way of thinking. I’m sure at any given time you can sit somewhere in the public, watching and listening to those around you and hear this line of thinking expressed. I know I often hear snide remarks from those who think their way of thinking is the one true way. If we could all just stop and ask our selves; is there another way to look at it, than perhaps the world could be filled with less hate and more understanding.

 

Hinder

What things could hinder you from expressing your own original ideas. How could you overcome these obstacles?

I burn with the desire to leave my mark upon this world. I want to leave behind something others can connect with, something that will grant me immortality long after my bones have been laid to rest. My mind is constantly mulling over an idea for some form of creative writing or expression. Yet, locked within my mind they stay. The biggest thing that hinders me from expressing my ideas and turning them into tangible creations is myself. I spew hopes and dreams of becoming a well know writer, of becoming a somebody. However, I do little to actually achieve this goal. A writer who doesn’t take time to write is hardly a writer. No? I have bits and pieces of ‘books’ that I’ve started that are left unfinished, though the plot still remains fresh in my mind. I have a few short works of poetry or flash fiction that has been thrown about and placed in various places on the internet. I even have a finished children’s story that is just rotting on my computer as I do nothing to get it published. My lack of motivation is my biggest foe.

So why am I so unmotivated? Well that delves into many factors which are also hindrances in and of themselves. My motivation ebbs and flows as my depression comes and goes. I’m not merely self diagnosing here, in the past I’ve been diagnosed with major depression. There’s a lot in my life that has contributed to my mental state but I won’t cover that in this blog. My mood tends to flow through cycles that can be triggered by the something major, something small, or nothing at all. I’ve dealt with this for years now and at times its better, and other times its worse. When at some of my lowest points the desire I carry to transcend my current life still burns deeply. Unfortunately, the flame isn’t hot enough to burn down the curtain of despair. Instead of doing something proactive I let myself get caught up in the woes of life and grow stagnant.

Lack of motivation, and depression are further aided by my own ignorance and lack or resources. My ignorance could be cured if I would make the time to really research and find the steps I need to take. As mentioned above I do have a finished work just sitting untouched and unread. Now I just need to figure out the steps to take toward publishing. Not that its an easy task but I’ll for sure never achieve it without putting forth any effort. My ignorance in what to do next is further exacerbated by my scant financial resources and social connections.

Ahh but excuses, excuses; there’s almost always a way to overcome adversity. I suppose one of the first things I should do is make it a point to write more. Even if its not writing on one of my books taking the time to write gets the creative juices flowing and sharpens the skills. I also need to make time to research the publishing process. I don’t expect to get handed a deal, or get published on my first try. I know it won’t be easy and there will be rejection. Yet, I’ll never be published if I don’t submit. Lastly, I need to reach out and communicate with others who have similar goals or who have experience in this field. I do actually know a person or two who could offer some advice. Why haven’t I reacted out to them? Laziness I suppose. Time and time again I have boasted that I will become an author. So now I need to stop talking about it and do it.

I’ll end this blog with a quote from a man who always inspires me.

“Your book isn’t burned it was never written …”
-Marilyn Manson: The Gardner : Born Villain

 

All Hallows Eve

All Hallows Eve is just around the corner and my skin is tingling with anticipation. While for several years now I’ve not really gotten a chance to do anything to celebrate, Halloween remains my favorite holiday. Since I was a small child this time of year, Halloween in particular, always was a special. The lovely colors that adorn the trees just before they shed their foliage are a sight to behold. Pumpkins, gourds, corn stalks and other lovely things decorating houses all around. Morbid and macabre items fill the shelves and costumes of all kinds begin to rear their heads. All this makes me feel at home in the world.

Sigh if only this morbidly magnificent time of year stretched on a little longer. From October 1st to just after November 2^nd when Day of the Dead wraps up is the time I look forward to all other days of the year. Through winter, spring, and summer I eagerly await the store shells to yet again fill with skeletons, pumpkins, zombies, and other spooky items. Its when I would love to do most of my home décor shopping if I wasn’t always broke. Even just window shopping gives me a thrill as I stand amidst all the macabre goodies. However, over the past few years I’ve noticed a decline in my local stores of all the spooky treasurers I adore. Earlier in October I stood in horror looking at my beloved Halloween items sitting only inches from Christmas items. “What blaspheme is this?” I thought as I shook my head. Not for any religious reasons did this cross my mind as I’m not religious in the slightest. Yet, October hasn’t even passed yet, nor has Thanksgiving and they are already promoting Christmas. But what do I expect? Christmas is the biggest money stealing holiday. My heart sank further when my boyfriend, who works in retail, told me last week they had reduced the Halloween stock down to a little cart. Nothing was going on clearance and soon these items would be stored for next year. Halloween night hasn’t even come and gone yet, it is already being tossed aside.

I recall how excited I would get every year as a child as Halloween night grew closer. Months before October I would have several ideas for costumes and be witting them away until only one idea remained. I recall dressing up as a witch, ghost, dog, cat, and on one occasion a combination of a magical witch cat. Now I still get flashes of inspiration for costume ideas and would love to dress up. Sadly due to time, money, and other factors I’ve not gotten to for many years now. Each year I get my hopes up that I can dress up and go to a costume party. Yet, each year something keeps me from it. My childhood wonder and desire to transform myself into someone else, even if just temporary, is something that has stayed with me these twenty some odd years. Perhaps, next year I can indulge myself. We shall see.

I sit here typing this a day before Halloween. Part of me is excited but another part is doleful. My beloved holiday is set to pass me by uneventful as it has for many a year now. It is starting to become a bittersweet time as I find myself unable to partake in the joys I once delighted in. Yet, this is one part of my life where I remain hopeful. I look forward to the day when I can once again find the resources to join in on all the creepy fun. Be forewarned when I make my return to the Halloween scene it will be in full force.

 

Connecting With The Nobodies

Sitting here in my own world as usual with headphones on tuning out the world and into the music of my choice. While listing to my favorite artists, Marilyn Manson, his song “The Nobodies” began playing. Most, if not all, of his songs connect with and affect me in some way or another. However, this song always strikes a particular chord with me. Thus, I decided to write about it and discuss how I correlate to the lyrics.

“Today I am dirty
I want to be pretty
Tomorrow, I know I’m just dirt”

The first words of the song always ring in my ears. I often look at myself in disgust. Not as being dirty necessary but as being ugly, undesirable, not worthy. The next line also hits home as I want to be pretty, though my own sense of beauty is a bit warped. I want to be pretty in the sense that I want to be the person I feel inside rather than the me that reflects the world. I always envision myself different and make plans to make the changes needed to metamorphosis. Yet, I know from past attempts I’ll fail and thus will be dirt.

“Yesterday I was dirty
Wanted to be pretty
I know now that I’m forever dirt”

The days pass by yet, I never make the changes I claim I will. I remain forever dirty, lying in failure and self abhorrence. I wanted to make the changes, to transform into the creature I hold dearly in my mind. I always intent to turn things around but intentions get me know where as they never manifest. Therefore, forever shall I remain dirt…

“We are the nobodies
Wanna be somebodies
When we’re dead
They’ll know just who we are”

The chorus resonates with me the most. I feel like an insignificant nobody who is wasting away in the cesspool that it my life. I long to be somebody, to be something, to leave something behind and make a mark on the  world. When we die we are forgotten a few generations later unless we’ve done something to make history take note. I don’t want to go quietly into nonexistence, rather I want to immortalize myself by leaving something behind that will be remembered.

“Some children died the other day
We fed machines and then we prayed
Puked up and down in morbid faith
You should have seen the ratings that day”

This part doesn’t resonate wit me in the same way as the rest of the song but still gives me something to draw from. To me it represents how our society works. We feed off of the most tragic and horrific scenes. We watch the news and other media outlets almost waiting, dare I say craving the next gruesome headline. Ratings sore when something horrible happens. We perpetuate the cycle, with all the media coverage and the perpetrator goes down in history and will forever be remembered. 

 

My Life’s Lot

Prompt: My lot in life makes me feel…

 

My lot in life has not been a particularly easy one. I wont outline my whole life story but to sum it up as shortly as possible I’ve witnessed my mother fall prey to cancer and other illnesses. I watched her health deteriorate and her personality change until she ceased to be. In the midst of this my father took his own life shortly after my high school graduation. I had to “grow up” much faster than many others and had to become self reliant and stand on my own. I’ve battled depression for years and still have my bouts with it. Some have told me how strong I am and how proud they are of me. Yet, I look at my self and my life with bitter disdain. Sure I’m still alive, I’m still standing despite the misfortunes I’ve faced but I’m just another nobody wasting away…

I burn with the desire to be ‘somebody’ and fantasize about the life I want. I see myself as a well known and successful author. Not too much in the public eye but enough that my name is recognized. I’ve done something with my life, made something of myself, and left a mark upon the world. Then reality shatters the bubble and I look at my life for what it is… less than mediocre. I’m a community collage student who is racking up debit. My boyfriend and I live on our own and I own my house yet, we are always strapped for cash. We live in one room because we can’t heat or cool the entire house, live off of fast food and packaged noodles, and feel rather stuck. I make plans to ‘do something’ with my life. I set goals but never take steps to achieve them. I often look at myself with disgust. I say “I’ll make it one day.” and “I’ll do something with my life.” Then turn around and do nothing.

I suppose labeling myself as a hopeless dreamer sums everything up. I always have my head in the clouds to escape the drab reality that is my life. I want to take the world by storm and leave behind something that will impact others. I conjure ideas of grandeur only to let them remain in my head. I’ll start a project and never finish it. Or in the case of my hopes of writing children’s stories, I’ll let a finished work rot away on my computer. My laziness, lack of motivation, and ignorance of what steps to take keep me stuck in the rut that is my lot in life. Some circumstances are beyond my control, others lie with me. If I want to end this bitter existence I need to get my head out of the clouds and focus on how to realistically achieve my goals.

 

 

 

New Direction

Well I’ve been mulling some things over concerning my blog and writing in general. I’ve decided to rework this blog a bit and will no longer be featuring my photography or creative writing here. Instead I will be focusing more on blogging my thoughts, experiences, and perhaps, some blogging prompt responses. I’m still debating upon leaving my previous posts of photography and creative writing or deleting them. Feedback is welcome on this notion. However, if you are interested in my creative writing I will be displaying it here: http://www.wattpad.com/user/ParaMorbid and my photography will be displayed here: http://para-morbid.deviantart.com/ Thank you for reading and I hope to get the redesign underway soon.

 

Family Comparison

 

Born in a Kentucky town and raised in the middle of nowhere by two loving, yet relatively normal, parents I turned out quite different than most around me. Both my brother and I are vastly different and just don’t fit the mold of either our family or traditional Kentuckian. I thought it would be interesting, and a bit fun, to look at some of my family members compared to me.

My father was born in a small country town in a simpler time. His mother and father had eleven children including my father. He grew up helping his family on a farm. He was a farmer himself among other things. He kept a heard of cattle and raised tobacco while also working for a tree trimming service. He enjoyed gardening, hunting, fishing, coffee, walking in the woods, good food, and sitting on the front porch. He enjoyed watching Western movies, MASH, NOVA, nature shows, and such. He listened to bluegrass, country, and gospel music along with writing lyrics and singing the latter two. During his latter years of life he went to church with my mother and I and he put his musical talents to good use. His casual dress was blue jeans and a plain T-shirt with a front pocket and a cap on his head. He was what I consider one of those good ‘ol country boys. He was honest and hard working. He never met a stranger and was kind and generous. Though his hands were hard and calloused from hard labor his heart was soft and kind.

My mother was also born in a small town but grew up with a smaller family. She had a fraternal twin sister, a younger sister, older brother, and older half brother. She worked for a time in a sewing factory until she married my father and became a wife, mother, and homemaker. In her younger years she was a fire cracker and didn’t hesitate to give you a piece of her mind, getting into arguments with strangers when they tried to push her around. After she fell ill with cancer and other health issues she became a bit more shy. She enjoyed flowers and when she was able planted and kept gardens herself. Later they were kept up and cared for by my father. She enjoyed walking in the woods before she fell ill. Even after her health began to decline she enjoyed fishing, watching humming birds while sitting on the porch drinking coffee. She watched soap operas, Little House On The Prairie, The Waltons, Touched By An Angle and the like. She went to Church when her health permitted. She always loved Elvis and had tickets to see him but he died before the concert. Before she fell ill her attire was usually black dress pants with a plain shirt underneath a nicer button up or dress jacket. After he health failed she wore blue jeans and printed T-shirts when not going to church. She was always loving and cared deeply for her family.

Other relatives from both sides of the family follow much of the same suit. Most go to church and are Christians in some form or another. On my dad’s side you have the typical country folk. A lot of them live in rural areas and enjoy much of the same things my father did and dress much in the same fashion. The younger generations deviate from the path a bit but are more or less the same. On mom’s side of the family you have less farmer orientation but still have the good ‘ol country folk. They dress modestly and casually. They were born and raised here in Kentucky and many of them have stayed here.

Then you get to me and my brother and things start to change. My brother is fourteen years older than me so there is quite a gap. Even though we are siblings we pretty much grew up as only children. My brother inherited my father’s work ethic. He works hard and has always been there for me in my time of need. His taste in music is hugely different than that of most of our family. While many of them still listen to country and contemporary Christian he listens to brutal death metal. For several years he was lead guitarist in a band and play around Kentucky and other states. When not in work clothes he dresses in cargo and military pants sporting band t-shirts and hoodies. He use to have long hair with an undercut though it is now buzzed. He has three or so tattoos and a few piercings. One of his favorite shows is the Walking Dead and horror movies rank high on his list, the gorier and more perverse the better. Anything horror or gore related is right up his ally, throwing in some nerdy things such as fantasy, scifi and transformers into the mix. His humor lies in the darker side and others would consider it inappropriate. We often crack jokes that would make those around us shudder or twist their faces in disgust. He isn’t spiritual and takes a more agnostic position. His leisure time is spent watching movies, going to metal shows, and comic conventions.

Then there’s me. A lot of my likes lie closely with those of my brother. Bloody and visceral movies are among my favorites along with things that are just strange or different. I enjoy psychological thrillers and anything paranormal or supernatural. Fantasy, scifi, mech, and more rank high in my interests. I love anime and other adult cartoons like Aqua Teen Hunger Force, Super Jail, and South Park. My style of dress is evolving as most of my life I have settled for whatever I can find as I have a hard time finding things I like in my size (that’s a topic for another day). Currently its mostly jeans with horror or nerdy shirts and hoodies. I have one tattoo but want three more and have six piercings and again want a few more. I went from being Christian like most of my family to atheist. My free time is spent writing, listening to podcasts or watching documentaries, playing video games, watching movies and anime, and going to comic conventions with my boyfriend and brother. My taste in music ranges from metal to brutal death metal with a few other things mixed in here and there. My sense of humor is dark and inappropriate.

This brief look into myself and my family is just a few highlights. I’m not the most bizarre person to live in Kentucky, in fact I know several others who have similar interests. Yet, compared to my family I’m not like the majority. I often look at my relatives and reflect on my parents and wonder why me and my brother drifted toward the morbid side. I detest or just don’t agree with a lot of my family’s tastes or beliefs. They watch TV shows that I find boring, listen to music that makes my flesh crawl, and hold opinions that are in direct conflict to mind. I’ve come to find they don’t really know me as well as perhaps I thought or they believed. Casual conversations sometimes lead them looking at me perplexed. Other topics, such as religion and politics, I just dodge all together. Sometimes I feel a little left out, but then again I am who I am, I like what I like, and wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

I Once Was Found But Now Am Lost : Was Blind But Now I See

My descent into godlessness started eight years ago. I first started to question my faith and the beliefs I held after the death of my father. Before this time I had been a born again Christian. I had been a member of a local church for years and taught Sunday school, or as we called it childrens church. Even before then I had gone to church on and off with my aunt and went to a local bible school each summer. I believed whole heartily in Yahweh, the Christian god of the bible, and that he sent his son Jesus to suffer and die on the cross as a sacrifice to pay for our sins. I had given my life to the lord, was baptized in his name and tried to live the life of a good Christian. I prayed every day for my family and for those I loved. I had even gotten down on my face before god, praying for some relief. My prayers seemed in vain as mom continued to suffer. I told myself then than it was part of god’s divine plan and that mom’s suffering was for some reason my mortal mind could not comprehend. My father had been going to church with us for years as well. He had an amazing singing voice and a talent for writing song lyrics. He wrote and sang many gospel songs at our church despite not being ‘saved’. Shortly before I was to graduate high school he gave his life over to god and was baptized. We all rejoiced that he had finally accepted Jesus as his personal savior. You would think things were looking up but shortly there after he took his own life. This left me feeling lost and alone taking care of my ill, bed ridden mother and grieving the loss of my father at the age of eighteen.

I had always been drawn to the occult and things a good christian shouldn’t dabble in. Astrology and the tarot fascinated me, yet I kept my distance as they were ‘evil’. I always had questions about religion. Such as the notion that Christianity was the ‘right’ path and all others were wrong. No one could ever justify to me why it was the right path. The only answers I got left me wanting more. I was told it was because we could feel it in our heart of hearts, that we could feel god’s love working in our life, that we had a duty to spread the word, and that our god was the one and only true god. This didn’t satisfy me at all, didn’t all followers of all religions feel this way? If not they surly wouldn’t be followers of their god. These thoughts were brushed asunder, a good Christian shouldn’t question god.

After dad’s death I started to slip further from the teachings of the church. They no longer satisfied me and my thirst for knowledge grew. I became immersed in all things paranormal, hoping to figure out if dad was still lingering with me. Along with this I began dabbling in Wicca and witchcraft. Learning more about pagan religions and keeping a rather open mind. I never claimed to be Wiccan or adhered to any particular pagan path but was eclectic, taking bits of what resonated with me and adding them to my beliefs. At this time I believed in ghosts and spirits, in energies and metaphysical phenomenon. My friends and I would go ghost hunting in local cemeteries taking paranormal photographs. I devoured any information I could find on hauntings and I drifted further from Christianity and embraced my eclectic path. Even through the death of my mother, who had suffered for thirteen years, I kept seeking answers to my spiritual questions.

For years I continued looking into pagan paths and slowly became interested in Eastern religions and concepts such as reincarnation. At this point I began to believe we reincarnated from life to life but wasn’t exactly sure why. I even thought perhaps I was an old soul. I was still exploring and had began to doubt the existence of a god, taking on more Buddhists beliefs. I began to redefine god as the universe or a collective consciousness and not an actual entity. I even got caught up in the ancient alien theories and entertained the notion that the gods we worshiped were extraterrestrial visitors from long ago. This way of thinking stuck with me for a while but I was still being pulled to explore more. My belief in a god of any sort was waning. The more I searched for answers the more questions I had.

I don’t remember exactly how I had heard of The Atheist Experience, a public access broadcast from Texas, but I found some videos on YouTube and began watching. I listened intently to what the hosts and callers had to say and it resonated with me. The atheist stance began to make more logical sense than anything I had ever heard before. I branched off from their show and began listing to The Thinking Atheist podcast and again found myself nodding along to the points Seth Andrews, the host, was making. While The Atheist Experience helped chip away at my religious shackles, Seth’s podcasts from The Thinking Atheist touched me on an emotional level with topics such as grief without god. The pieces seemed to fall in place and the lingering fear from the grips of Christianity fell aside. At last I had been set free and my eyes had been opened. It has been several months since I first discovered these programs and while I’m not a completely out atheist to my family and friends, I have shed off any remnants of religion.

There are a lot of misconceptions about what atheism is and what it means to be an atheist. As an atheist I reject the claims that a god exists as there has been no evidence to prove a god’s existence. This doesn’t mean that as an atheist I exert the notion that no god actually exists or can exist; just that there is no evidence to prove one does and until there is I remain skeptical. Some may ask why not just stick with the agnostic label? The answer is because that only addresses what I know, not what I believe. Do I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that there is no god? No, I would be agnostic as I don’t and can’t know this for certain. However, do I believe that there is no god? Yes, atheism addresses the question of my active belief.

I am growing more and more comfortable using the word atheist to describe myself. Since freeing myself from religion I have been happier. I have been better able to deal with the tragic things of the past and face the problems of today. Before I used to ask questions of why me?… Am I and my family cursed? …What have I done so wrong to deserve this?… Is god punishing me?… Why does mom have to face so much suffering?… Why did dad have to take his own life?… Is dad burning in hell?… Why does god’s plan involve so much suffering for my family?… and many more. However those questions no longer plague my mind. I don’t feel as if my family is cursed, that I’m being punished, that mom’s suffering was all part of some intangible plan. I feel more in control of my life and see it as more meaningful now than I ever did as a Christian. I use to believe that this life was suffering and that to endure the pain would grant my treasures in an everlasting heaven. Now I believe this is our only life and once its over there is no afterlife. Because of this we need to enjoy our life and do with it as we please. Its so statistically unlikely for us to be born at all, yet here we are. So lets take this brief moment of existence and run with it.

 

Unwritten

 

For many years now I have carried deep within a desire to be a writer. I want to etch my path and make my living as an author. I’ve been told that I’m good and that I should pursue my talent. The embers that smoldered were fanned into a flame by a very special teacher during my high school days, Mrs. Gibson. I had always written for classes as everyone does. I had stories and bits of poetry but it wasn’t until she entered the picture that I began to respect my works. Looking back on my writing now it was horrid but that’s only in comparison to my writing style now. Not that I’m a literary genius by any means, and in fact am far from it. However, she saw something there and began to feed the flames until I began exploring the concept of writing more.

 

I have a whirlpool of ideas swirling through my mind. I get sparks of inspiration and I mull them over until a viable story has formed. I’ll jot them down in a notebook so that the concepts are not lost. Then I’ll start stories here and there yet they go unfinished. As I type these words I have two ‘books’ I’m working on that have sat untouched for some time now and a childrens’ story that is just on the cusp of being finished. These stories cry out to be giving life and my mind reaches out to embrace but my fingers type not the life giving words. I often wonder if I have doomed my creations to a purgatory of being unwritten.

 

Para Morbid 2013