Fear, Hesitation and Voices

I was thinking about a conversation I had recently. So many things crossed my mind to say. Good points and thoughtful insights. I said none of these things. I hurriedly spit out responses, over thought my replies and basically wound up sounding far too busy and distracted to have an intellect worth noting. What is that?

So often we find ourselves looking back at comments and conversations we’ve had and simply shake our head at what we forgot to say, hesitated to say and frankly couldn’t bring ourselves to say. When I’m on the other end of this, I can see or hear every moment the person makes these judgement calls. The glancing of the eyes, the millisecond pauses before speaking, the slow glances away and the changes in the pitch of the voice. I’m mindful of this when I do it as well. I usually wind up in a never-ending face palm match with my conscience.

If there were a magic pill that caused us to speak our minds with as thoughtful and honest of a presentation we know we could muster, I think this world would be a better place. Politicians and best friends would lose that vast distinction of insight and trained, honed defensiveness. Everything we said would display our true emotion and capacity for communication. I’m sure there’s a flaw in that idea somewhere.

I would like nothing better at times than to have my full and undivided presence of mind in every conversation I might have. Fears of so many things, depending on who we’re talking to, typically hold us back. Fear that the light and humorous take on a serious conversation might result in ridicule and alienation. Fear that what we might think is a brilliant idea is seen as silly or childish. Fear that we lack the training and education to contribute in a manner one could respect. Fear that the integrity and confidence we worked all our lives to achieve would tumble over like dominos in one simple misunderstanding. Fear that what we have to say just isn’t important enough to mention.

Actually, I think fears big and small may be the biggest killer of my eloquence and grace. At the end of the day I know that I’m smart, thoughtful and insightful. It’s the bane of my existence. Looking back on the day at how many times those qualities simply abandoned me in one conversation with a perceived equal. Which I like to think is every conversation I have.

Maybe that magic pill should just lessen our fear in general. Not abolish it, mind you. Just make it less overwhelming so that we can see a world that’s worth risking our place in it. Maybe without the thirty veils of fear we could all take a leap to achieve a sense of liberation we’ve been missing for three generations.

Dead is Trendy

Dying…

We’re all doing it. It’s probably the most popular activity in history, aside from being born. Statistically, it really blows everything else away. Whether we’re doing it with style or becoming the world’s most disgusting research photo, we’re all doing it. So cry out for anarchy… refuse to wear a toe-tag and call yourself an anti-conformist – but in the end, you’ll be doing it just like us.

Then there’s the question of not being dead yet. Some of us are dying way too fast, some just taking our time and even some are just taking a leap to try it. Not many people want to do it right now. And the ones that do are desperate to join the fad. Most often, one needs a great deal of experience before doing it with confidence. It’s no easy trend, but we can’t really get ahead without it, in many perspectives.

When you do die, it’s like an age-old party. Everyone comes to the party’s host, this being the dead person of course, and pays gracious respect. Then they join the crowd to be observed in their festivities. Afterwards half the party regroups somewhere to get inebriated. Romantic in a sense. The downfall being that the host typically pays the bill. But how different is that from being alive?

So where does the urge to rebel against it come from? It’s so popular that everyone in history has done it. How can it be so terrifying? For those who take their time, that is. For others who are doing it way too fast, there has to be some kind of underlying culture shock or psychological issue. It’s quite a drastic change to undertake with any measure of sanity. Unless all your friends have done it. Obviously pier pressure would be involved.

Inevitably, we will all do it. Some say there’s a party afterwards and all manner of people are smiling like idiots, welcoming you to the largest membership club in existence. Some say it’s finally over. No more having to choose trends or fashions.

I have to wonder; what do I want to remember the moment I realize I’ve been accepted into the largest membership club in existence?

Defines Us, Living

How does life and living define us? More importantly, how do we define it?

We’re all glamorous glory hounds that wish to be something great in our lives. Anything else would be Buddha or Gandhi. And we are not them, especially if you’re reading this blog. But our definition of it defines our pursuit of it. I would like nothing more than to have a huge publishing company read this and ask to release the many books I’ve written on my own terms. But alas, that will likely never happen. I would like that my efforts to save teenage street-rats became something wondrous, but it’s likely none of those street-rats remember my name.

Some would tell themselves that the pursuits of others are nothing more than wishful thinking while pursuing their own unattainable goals. Some would find a stroke of sheer genius-like coincidence that would propel them into a life of spotlight and recognition. But what I ask is; would they ever tell the tale as it really happened… sheer coincidence and the actions of others? And if one were brave enough to say no; how could they be so humble in the world we know today? Lets all watch the news and see, shall we?

We are destiny’s glutton for amusement. We will always prefer to take that path that leads us to the most glory. But can we resist it? That becomes the question most asked far after we’ve done the deed. Some of us, and I mean few of us, will run from such choices. Preferring to live in a time where right and wrong was simple and clearly defined. But more often than not, those few will be doing so because they have done the shallow deed of glory once or twice before.

But living life is full of these temptations of the ostracized persona. In times long since forgotten, all you needed was a good idea to receive that long awaited cheer of glory. In modern times, a good idea will end your career if presented to a superior paycheck. So now we sit silent, wishing we had the ear of those whom we would perceive rule our lives. Individuals whom were once like us… desperately waiting for a glorious break in the drab life of a subservient mind. But have they really broken free of it if they can’t simply listen?

In the end, we will all glamorize our days. Telling glorious tales of great moments in time that we could only hope had unraveled the way we tell the tale. Or could we just tell an honest tale? A tale of someone who lived in these times and knew their wondrous ideas would be silenced by those whom desired the glory for themselves and feared changes in the life that they could some day call glorious.

How will you tell your tales?

Why Are We Arguing?

Why are you arguing? Arguing is really made up of you, or someone else, forcing a point down someone else’s neck in hopes to win a moment of verbal dominance. If you stay objective, this is to be expected seeing as most means of exhibiting one’s dominance are illegal in most advanced civilizations. Seeing as we’re no longer allowed to beat each other over the head with large and heavy objects, arguing seems to have become far more common. Okay. So where does that leave the rest of us whom have no real urge to kill or maim people we don’t agree with?

It leaves us sitting, waiting and hoping that the arguer finishes so we can leave and perhaps never speak with them again. In the alternative, it leaves us sitting and waiting until we can burst out laughing about their determination and desperation to feel superior to us with words and opinioins alone. The most mindful and civilized of us quickly understand that this has gone beyond a discussion, and into passion. A distinct and dangerous line to cross. Others… well, they prefer to end the argument with statements of violence or simply slamming the preverbial door in our face, if not worse.

Another scenario is that the subject of our passionate discussion mistakes our display as a potential argument and simply withdraws into silence, aggrivating our passions all-the-more. So how can we discuss, rather than argue?

The first thing I try to do is to place myself in the other person’s shoes. Understand why they are so passionate and present my points in a manner that even they could rightiously shake their fists at. I try and explore why it is that their ideal has no real logical basis and why they might have come to that ideal. More often than not, I simply don’t. I just sit, waiting for their rant to make some manner of sense I can relate to.

In the end, the other person typically will need to display their dominance even more than before in order to save face from a logical, well researched perspective. This, of course, aggrivates them and drives them to extremes in order to seem more rightous and proud than me. And then, a month or more later, they silently and discreately give the subtlest of aknowledgements in order to save their pride but in the same token, gain respect that they do in fact have a brain and sometimes use it if so forced.

So if you’re the arguer, understand you’ve done nothing but show your dominance to no one but yourself for your own self-identity. And if you’re the discusser, understand that you’ve done nothing but show you’ll let an arguer win. If you’re both arguers, understand that you might wind up in a fist fight. If you’re both discussers, understand that you must take time to research and understand each other’s point.

If you’re like me, understand that you’ll always wonder why people feel the need to argue with you and that you’ll need to take self-defense courses to survive half the arguers you wind up dealing with. If you’re not, take some domestic courses because you’ll likely wind up serving a man who sees the world in a way that no longer exists by modern standards.

Arguing; the new method of violence and dominance.

Discussion; the new and old taboo of religion and politics.

Bloggerify Blog of Brainiacle Bumbling

Alright, so… I’ve been challenged to present my brain on blogs. I’ve attempted this on several other forums of communication and mostly what I’ve found is that I’m writing a diary. No one sees it, no one cares and there’s not much more than my own dilusions of grandure and paranoia of such to comfort me. So this is yet another attempt of bleeding my brain matter onto the internet to be lost in all that is unholy.

For my first trick, I’ll post about the blogger syndrome. What better way to feel like we are creative rebels of modern society than to whisper our madness into the darkness that we call cyberspace! We can say anything we like with little to no fear of judgement or recourse because, after all, we can always delete a post and ban a poster if what they say is mean. Okay, well… this is an advantage is many respects.

The question is; do I want to silence someone who is seeing me from a light in which I do not relate to? No, not really. That would make me no better than some corporate sell-out who’s doing their best to maintain profitability to the shareholders by silencing those who would hold them in a bad light. But with all the profit mongering and media whoring going on, where does my little blog fit in?

Well for those who enjoy reading aspects of self-humiliation and moments of clarity in a smoke filled room this might be entertaining. Of course we all want to paint ourselves as some kind of modern day wonder-girl, or boy. But the truth is, we’re all just swimming in a sea of mismarketed skincare and depression products. Have some more of that ancient chamomele delight tea while you read the rest of this.

Did you know that we drink Prosac every day? That kinda freaks me out. There’s antidepresants in my water supply. So yeah. Strange enough I’m a lot more complacant this past five years than ever before. Honestly that’s probably a good thing. Moving right along… blogging. Spill your brains on the internet and wait with bated breath for an intelligent, and maybe profitable, reply. Who’s reading this, really? It’s not Steve Stauphenopolis, or however you spell that, I’m sure.

Oh, and some contraversy… I almost forgot. Obama is a media deprived political rock star who’s desperate to retain a legacy he was never owed. A dreamer that likes to force his opposition to be dreamy and forget that someday there’s going to be a bill for all that money he spent. Who’s money is he spending? Well he thinks it’s going to be the very families and lineage that built this country. Unfortunately they all decided to leave the country when he got in office which is why taxes will be hiked on the middle class sooner than anyone can afford. I now have to pay $.73/minute to talk to some of my wealthy family, for example. You disagree? Find me 3 trillion dollars in our country’s wealthiest people that’s ready to be handed over and I’ll humor you for ten minutes. Most numbers reported about our wealthy are based on their worth, not their income. It’s not liquid. So where does that money come from? China. Just like Clinton’s master plan. Sell the country to China and hoard the fame and glory.

So yeah, there. There’s some contraversy some people can yell at me about to get the conversation started. I’ll talk about babies and flowers next time… maybe.