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.

 

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.

 

 

 

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.

 

Inward Bound

I wasn’t always quiet and reserved. When I was a child I was very outgoing and wold talk to anyone that would listen. There wasn’t any children my age living close by so I mostly talked to adults and would jabber non stop. All that changed my first day of Kindergarten. The withered witch of a teacher, for reasons unknown, didn’t like me from the start. Looking back I question her motives for becoming an elementary school teacher as I recall her being cruel to some of the other children as well as me. She butchered the pronunciation of my name and never made any real effort to correct herself. She talked to me as if I were a nuisance and would chastise me for asinine reasons. I remember being proud of myself because my mother had taught me to write my name before I ever went to my first class. Alas that pride soon faded as I was scolded for using all capital letters. She later went on to ridicule me for using a yellow crayon to color someone’s hair blonde and for using a brown crayon instead of a black one to color Martin Luther Kings Jr.’s skin.

A memory still vivid in my mind was one day in kindergarten after recess. It had been hot outside and after playing my mouth was quite dry. I recall standing in line for the water fountain, which was in the hallway outside of the classroom, behind a boy named Devin and there was a girl in front of him. We only had a few minutes after recess to return to class and we were both anxious to get a drink before we were late. Time seemed to drag by in an eternity as the girl in front guzzled down the water and even look back at us with a smirk and continued to drink. She finally had her fill and Devin got his drink and scampered on to class. My turn had arrived and I bent down eager to quench my thirst, my lips almost reaching refreshment when I was suddenly jerked backwards. The horrid teacher had come to claim me from the hall and grabbed me by the back of the shirt and pulled hard telling me to get to class. I remember tears welling up in my eyes but I didn’t want to cry in front of the other kids so I held them back the best I could. I grew to loath and fear her and unfortunately had her as my first grade teacher the following year.

It wasn’t just this shrew that pushed me inside myself but the kids as well. I don’t have any particularity clear memories of them but do recall being teased and not fitting in. After that I began keeping to myself and only socializing with those who talked to me first. I had a handful of friends, mostly boys as I seemed to have more in common with them than other girls. I didn’t care for dolls and most typical girl toys and preferred to play with transformer action figures and create my own games. When at home I played alone or with my pets. Usually making my own world in my mind and setting myself up as the leader of a clan. Soon this innocence would be tainted and I would crawl farther inside myself.

My mother fell ill with cancer when I was in the fourth grade. This made it more difficult for me to relate with those my own age. I already felt different from them and now while other kids were concerned with playing on the jungle gym at recess I sat by myself wondering if my mom was going to die. I remember the teacher having our class keep journals and each morning after the announcements we had some quiet time to write. Other kids wrote about vacations with their families and drew pictures of their pets. My journal was filled with concern for my mom and descriptions of trips to the hospital. I remember one drawing I did in my journal of mom lining in bed with no hair and tubes protruding from her body. I was growing up while my peers were enjoying their childhood.

This lasted into high school as my mother’s illness continued to change and develop. Other teenage girls were excited about the school dances and talking about boys while I was dealing with depression and watching my mother’s health fluctuate; never knowing if her next struggle would be her last. I again had a handful of friends that I talked with but for the most part I always felt different and out of place among my classmates. A lot of them seemed to either ignore me or just never noticed since I sat in the back of the room and kept to myself. I had a crush on a few boys but was far to shy to talk to them and with mom’s health I didn’t have time or energy to focus on dating when I was busy helping tend to her needs. This became more prevalent as I reached my senior year and mom’s condition worsened. By the time I had graduated my father and I were taking care of my mother at home and preparing for her death. Events unfolded after graduation that left me more isolated than ever and again I slipped farther and farther into myself. Music and writing were my only escape from my harsh reality. Over the years after high school I’ve wavered through periods of being more or less social but always revert to being introverted, its just part of who I am and that’s okay.

 

Para Morbid 2013

 

Unveiling

Salutations to any who are reading this. I’ve had blogs, journals, and the like on and off for years. This is just a bit of an introduction, nothing fancy. I’m starting this blog to get some of my thoughts and opinions about various topics out there, despite if anyone ever reads or not. At any given time I may discuss an array of subjects that perhaps interest me, are provoked by a current event, are about my life, a creative writing piece or whatever comes to mind. This could be things about my beliefs or lack there of, humanity, society, music, my life experiences and just randomness.

I suppose I’ll share a little information about myself and give you a taste for who I am. I was born, raised, and still live in a small town in Kentucky. I’ve met a handful of really nice people here that I can connect with on some level, but often fill misplaced. I tend to be rather open minded towards others but do hold my own beliefs and strong opinions, even though I don’t often audibly speak them. I don’t consider myself rude but can be if my buttons are pushed. Not going In depth just yet but I have not had an easy life and have faced and overcome a lot of tragedies. In the 20 something years I’ve been alive I have changed quite a bit and continue to do so. I’ve always struggled with self image and still do. I know who I am and what kind of person I would like to show to the world but keep to myself and keep a lot of my true personality hidden. This is something I’ve been working on overcoming for years, that and being able to live my life for myself and not let the opinions of others control me. I’m hoping this blog helps me achieve that goal and open up myself to the world.

 

Para Morbid 2013