Archive for Zombie Philosophy

These are days

How do you ask for help from the world around you? Do you yell at the top of your lungs? Do you whisper? Do you beg?

I’m crying on and off, choked up like I’m watching an Old Yeller retrospective. No rhyme, no reason just crying and sadness and a direct connection to the part of me that is very sad.

These days I miss my anti-depressants, my SSRI – the beautiful little bubble I used to live in that protected me from myself.

I’ve started yelling at people to defend the little boy inside from their shitty behavior. He loves it but, them? Not so much. He thinks its cool because I never used to defend him and would let people walk all over me. But I think I need to find a middle ground where I don’t sound so much like a crazy person that just got visited by aliens.

I’m a 16 year old boy in the body of a 41 year old man. My feelings are racing between highs and lows and my mind and my body don’t know what to do. I’d blame the alcohol I recently started imbibing again after a 9 year hiatus but that just seems like a cop out. Truth be told, this is what I should have been doing when I was young – to learn how to be stable, strong, confident, happy and content. So here I am in my 40ies when I should be going through a mid-life crisis and am instead having a teenage dream of growing up.

I will power through these issues, this maturity, the coldness of a world that just doesn’t seem to give a shit. And I will try my best to make these growths with grace and subtlety and avoid the wild mood swings becoming bludgeons with which I beat the people around me.

Forgive me world. growing up is hard.

Posted in Adult Children, Rant, Zombie Philosophy | 1 Comment

How come he doesn’t want me

Everything I could ever say about my father is said in this clip:

I don’t necessarily blame him because his father did the same to him but, without the ability to express it to him, this clip is all I have. Feelings of abandonment are the hardest to face. They reside in the darkest holes and deepest pits of our psyche. Thanks to the Fresh Prince, I can cry about it now.

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If – Rudyard Kipling

This poem is about 115 years old and gives me hope for humanity

If

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream – and not make dreams your master;
If you can think – and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with wornout tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on”;

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings – nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run –
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And – which is more – you’ll be a Man my son!

Posted in Poetry, Zombie Life, Zombie Philosophy | Comments Off on If – Rudyard Kipling

smeared

…across my face.

I send props to my creativity, while awesome it is hidden behind a defense system almost not worth fighting.

Maybe I’m not going to ever be a worthwhile writer, a worthwhile member of society. Might be that I am just a regular bloke that does his job, keeps his head down and muddles through life.

But Americans are taught they can be anything, do anything and shoot all the way to the top. They soaked my addled mind with such tripe when I was a little boy. My grandmother took me aside once and told me:

I see you becoming famous one day. Not sure why or how but I think you’ll be an actor.

Now, I’ve been waiting ever since, frozen and unable to act upon this bit of information. One thing to tell some kid that to help him along but to say that and then do nothing support wise, school wise, college wise – hell, how about require me to do my homework?

I lived a childhood where the most important thing was keeping things smoothed over to avoid the inevitable drunken fight between my parents. I didn’t care about books, just peace. And here I am decades later and I’m still that little boy – frozen, scared and motivated by a desire to be left alone and do nothing.

Maybe I will never reach escape velocity to leave my childhood behind.

Science has found that 75% of our adult behaviors were developed before the age of 10 and never change. And what if those behaviors were learned poorly or not at all? Nothing worse than an adult walking around with a childish mindset; making childish mistakes, using childish emotions, being an adult child.

Will I ever escape this…

Posted in Adult Children, Zombie Life, Zombie Philosophy | Comments Off on smeared

Modern Advertising: It’s Okay to Hate Men and Treat Them Like Dogs

Modern advertising needs a Foil in each buying situation they depict (like this commercial) – The purchaser can look down on and feel superior to the foil and thus identify with the product later on at the point of purchase (at the store, at the beer cooler)

I’m tired of ‘foil’ advertising especially when they make it so hateful.

My feeling is we need real, involved ‘consumer unions’ to get our collective power back from corporation through the threat of mass product/brand boycott.

A couple of million people strong would do it…maybe as little as 300,000…unified on buying habits.

And these commercials boil my blood. That’s what motivated this post. I want to punish Miller Lite…

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Go to tell your 16 yr. old self something

Oh fuck dude, where do I begin? Lemme see….

You’re not at all fat! Actually as it turns out, you are very handsome but just got lied to by people that should have been protecting you but instead destroyed you. Keep repeating over and over until you believe it the truth: you are aren’t fat. You’re very handsome and a really good guy. I am so fucking proud of you. Do you know that?

And what do you want to be? What do you want to do? And I don’t mean smoke pot all the time and get drunk. What else? You’re a great writer but your still illiterate technically at 16. You’re writing is like a really creative mess. Ask for help. I want you to apply yourself and if you do you will be so happy, I promise. Apply yourself, please? If you do? You can still smoke pot. Okay?

And pretty soon you’re gonna need therapy and I want you to start whenever you feel up to it, okay? You’re depressive, buddy. A big cute depressive guy. I want you to get help, okay? Check out ACOA and IBP therapy…get a head start cause your 30ies will be a fucking ride and a half :-/

But I’m so proud of you. I’m so proud of how you end up fighting through your depression and changed your life. I’m so proud of how good you are at heart and how you removed those defense mechanisms and let people love you. You can do anything buddy, so don’t ever sell yourself short and start writing more and you’ll be so happy.

I love you

Posted in Adult Children, Guyland, Rant, Uncategorized, Zombie Philosophy | Comments Off on Go to tell your 16 yr. old self something

Rejection

Any relationship is under the control of the person who cares the least

I have been entangled with a female friend/lover for 15 years and it has been 15 years of “come here, come here” mixed with a lot of ‘get away, get away’. And as the both of us have gotten better in our separate ACOA-type recoveries, I find that neither one of us can change or stop this dance and the roles are desperately hard to change.

The first five years she was in love with me but I was living with a girlfriend. I think that bind-ed her to me through rejection. Then 5 years later we come together again and for a year we were able to be lovers…but our recoveries ripped our intimacy apart and we went our ways. But we never let go fully, always keeping a line open.

Fast forward to the last 2 years and I am better but can’t let go of her. Things have swung and I am seeing her for the first time; the beauty, the passion, the friend, the lover – but of course, now she is reluctant and doesn’t care as much as I do…she wants to be the super close friends we always were but doesn’t want the lover I can be and want.

And on the cycle will go as two people spin their sick dance of intimacy, unable to break free and live their lives in the new way they have discovered through recovery and unable to take the relationship to a secure and safe place of love and support.

The good news is that I am finally a man in my heart and cannot (for the first time in 15 years) let this twisted, unsatisfying relationship continue like this. I confronted her and told her the truth. Of course she didn’t reciprocate and wants me to remain as a brother-type friend which I refuse to do. I broke off any friendship and am respecting hers and my boundaries.

————————————-

It’s just so frustrating to realize the last 15 years were wasted when I could have been experiencing relationships and love and all kinds of things that were lost to my scared mind that holds onto sick relationships like a junkie to his drug. Releasing her this last time is so hard and scary but for the first time in my life it is not a dreaded thing that will kill me. I will be okay and flourish but I worry that my weakness for her will lead me back down the path of this sick intimacy that her and I share.

But honestly, I know this sounds a little dark and truth be told, I am so much better than I ever was and so much more mature than at any time in my life. The air is cool and the sun shining. i will be fine.

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These are the Universe

Get out of that skin and get
into that freedom

strip down
nothing in my pockets

run much slicker, safer
open toed and barely strapped

Fling a thing away
I’m choking collars and belts

spitting teeth plated
enamel too heavy

I want em floating in haze

___________________________________________________

Come on Universe, meet me half way. Feels like you’re not doing your part and letting me flounder about trying to manifest in a vacuum.

And I’m so lonely in my heart, so vacant in my love. Haven’t been touched enough, touch starved.

And no one holds me out as special, out above all else. I am just as unimportant to them as I used to be to myself. I don’t understand intimacy, I don’t know love and affection.

Posted in Adult Children, Poetry, Zombie Philosophy | Comments Off on These are the Universe

The goal heard around the world – USA 1 Algeria 0

This moves me so…

Not sure if it’s America finally embracing soccer or the win itself but something inside me knows this is as big of a moment for the USA as well as the rest of the world.

Our finally coming around, en mass, to soccer (football) almost seems like an end to American Exceptionalism and the horrible Bush Doctorine, preemptive war type thinking that has kept the USA seperate from our fellow humans the world round, for so long.

Or maybe it’s just a beautiful game. Excuse me while I weep like a fucking baby. USA USA USA!

Posted in Rant, Rave, Zombie Life, Zombie Philosophy | Comments Off on The goal heard around the world – USA 1 Algeria 0

Lawn and Garden

Grandpas yell: “get off my lawn and don’t come back.”

Grandpas say it a lot and I shoot back with:

“lawns and their upkeep are a serious addition to the nightmare that is our inability to preserve our resources. See Grandpa, the sod you’ve replaced 8 times in the last 5 years is grown in a field where crops could be grown. The water used to cultivate that grass field for you used ridiculous amounts of water we don’t have.

Then that shit gets sent to your house after the last batch died because you live in a desert grandpa (California). Kentucky Bluegrass doesn’t belong in the desert Grandpa.

Then you water that shit AND THE FUCKING SIDEWALK and the fucking road everyday for ten weeks until it dies and you spend a thousand bucks having it replaced.

And don’t get me started on the amount of wasted resources and pollutants that the little team of Mexican Americans use each week to make sure you precious lawn looks perfectly manicured so you can sneer at the neighbor Jenkins who has turned to a xero-scape, desert lawn that requires no upkeep.”

Then I not only step in his yard on his grass, i also break his sprinkler heads when he’s not looking.

(edit: in reality I have no grandpas left :( —)

Posted in (sigh), Zombie Life, Zombie Philosophy | Comments Off on Lawn and Garden

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