We Make the Bed, We Lie In Them

We are responsible for the decisions that we make. We are responsible for the aftermath of them as well. Sometimes though, we often forget that with the choices that we make, we are forced to live with them, no matter how much we wish to go and change our minds. The past is something that we can't undo or unravel, knots of macrame that can never be undone, once the knot is tied, it is tied. 

Sometimes regret is a strong force that drives us to do the things that we wouldn't otherwise be driven to do. It causes us to be desperate, it causes us to do things that in our right state of mind we forever would wonder what would happen if we didn't make that choice or decision. 

I could be a liar and say that I don't have those thoughts or feelings. But I'm not. I have those feelings every now and then when I go on Facebook, and discover that my father has created a new and happier life of his own. As I know cutting him out was the best decision for my welfare, I realize that deep down besides the hurt that he has caused, I still wonder about my father. What was he like? Did he enjoy cookies? What qualities of mine were once his? I don't think that this curiosity will ever truly die, however I do know that to keep myself from getting hurt I had to do what I had to do. 

Having a father who was never there had always impacted me. It caused me to think before I trust. It caused me to often wonder if I'm capable of loving or having a person that can love me for good. I wonder if there's an expiration date to my friendships, and relationships, and drive away. I can't shoot at the fear, it's not a piece of game, however, I can try to shrink it. 

My father did what he did for his own reasons. He didn't do it because of me. It took nearly 16 years to realize that, but in the end, I realized that I'm not the reason. 

Because of his impact, I was forced to make a decision. I made the bed, I now lie in it. It's a comfortable bed, a bed that I can safely be comfortable in. However, on days like today, I wonder what would the not so comfortable side of life would have been like. As Sigmund Freud says "Our beds are never empty." In a nonsexual way, he's right. The bed that we make in relation to a current situation would stay with us perhaps the length of a lifetime. They become scars on the blank smooth surfaces of our headboards. Our beds are made, and we choose to lie in them. 

Theme Songs.

Everyone has that song of theirs that makes them want to get up and dance. Everyone has that song of theirs that makes them want to do something. It's their pick me up, it's their chocolate at the end of the day.
I'm a victim of that notion. In fact, I have a lot of those songs. I'm a huge fan of making playlists, so here's the songs that do that for me.

1. Material Girl-Madonna
2. Girl Gone Wild-Madonna
3. Holiday-Madonna
4. Walk This Way-Aerosmith
5. Dream On-Aerosmith
6. Get A Grip-Aerosmith
7. The Grand Illusion-Styx
8. I'm A Girl-Nashville
9. HellRaiser-Ozzy Osbourne

What's yours?

Who Are You to Judge?

Lately, something has been bothering me. I've been thinking about the way that we view the people that are around us. Why do we view them the way that we view them? Most importantly, why do people think that based on their profession they are good people?
Well I don't believe that to be true. I don't believe that the judgement of good versus evil is a matter that cuts deeper then simply based on what they do. I believe that there is more to human nature than that. There is more layers to us then the ones that we show to the public.
As Freud says personality is like an iceberg called the ID, ego and super-ego. The ID is the basic part of personality that begins with your basic wants and desires. It is believed to be the source of our wants, desires and impulses. Things that are presented in the ID often go unnoticed or are repressed. It is the only parts of personality that is presented at birth. The ego is our source of reality. It seeks to bring the id pleasure. In other words, its the more logical angle of our personality, in addition to our defensive functions. Our super-ego is society's influence on our personality, including but not limited to norms. The super-ego aims for perfection and nothing less. The super-ego aims to please in a social setting, while our id aims to please no matter what; right there right now.
Our personalities are in many layers. Therefore, we can not judge a person based on their profession. There should be many criteria to judging a person. Hasty judgement can often be wrong judgement.
And what should we judge a person on? We should judge them based on their experiences that they've had and how they've managed to cope. We should judge the person that they've made out of themselves, instead of where their journey had began. We should judge them by how they treat the people that are around them daily. Judge them about the multiple layers of our personality, not just the petty schema of society. We should not judge them based on a profession, where they come from, and who their parents are. Also, judgment should stretch farther then where we went to school, and the amount of money that you make in a year. And who they go home to? You're not also in the position to judge that either.
We are complex beings. Therefore, we should not be judged simply.

Why Do I Write?

Why do you write? 

Many people ask me this. People don't think writing is something that is fun. Some do, like myself. Some don't. And that's fine. Not everyone is a literary, creative person such as myself. 

Recently, someone insulted me about this. Okay fine. Not too recent, but whatever. They asked me why do I write, don't you do anything fun?

Well to this person. Yes, I do have fun. I may not appreciate your kind of fun, watching television and movies, but that's okay. My definition of fun differs from your own. Not everyone in this world agrees to the same things, and marches to the same kind of drummer. If we did, then there would be no diversity. If we did, there would be no excitement. Everyone would have the same kind of routine. The world would become boring. There would be no talent, because everyone would be good at the same things. 

And why do I write? I write to tell a story. I write to be heard, to have my voice expressed in a way that can not expressed in a way verbally. I feel at peace writing a story. It's like I'm in my own world. I have the power to do whatever the hell I want to. The blank page doesn't scare me, because I know it can be filled with opportunity. I can write a tragedy, a comedy, a poem. The page is my oyster. With math, you don't get this luxury. There is also no straight answer. Everyone can interpret what you're writing differently, and it still can make sense.

The best part about writing? The best part is that the words that you put together can make a difference to someone. They can inspire someone to do something that otherwise they can't find the courage to do. They can find the fire that burns inside them, and spread the flames to their outer layer. 

That's why I write sir. And I enjoy it much better then kissing your ass. 

Perfect (Just Not To Me)

You are declared to be a hero, 

In reality you are a zero

You can weasel your way in, 

My body, my life. 

A victim of your sin. 

You wouldn't know the meaning of no,

You wouldn't have stopped. 

You would have kept going, 

Causing my anxiety to keep growing. 

I know the line is cliche

"It's not you; it's me"

However the words ring more truth then ever

We will never ever get together. 

I don't want you near me

You're like bad medicine for the aching heart. 

You could have been perfect. 

You're just not for me. 

Reflection-The Light At The End of the Tunnel.

Tomorrow marks the last day of my freshman year of college. I remember wandering around the campus lost and wondering if I'd ever get the chance to make this place my own. I remember wondering will I ever find a place, a rock to call my own.
Now, tomorrow's the last day. I've learned more at this place then I have in the years that I've spent in high school. I've learned who my friends really are. I learned that to want to do something that you have to work for it; there are no grants in life. I've learned to stick up for myself. I've learned how to be hurt, and then I learned how to get over that hurt to make something better for myself.
I found myself. I know my future. I know where I'm going. I no longer wander around lost, I wander with purpose. I know where I'm going, because I know when I get there I'll be at last home. It may not make sense to most people, but it does to me.
The light at the end of the tunnel has been reached. I'll fight my last battle tomorrow, and end up a champion. Then, I'll go home and read a bunch of silly novels in the sun.
I survived freshman year. I can't wait to survive sophomore year.

Lose.

Lose my number, forget my name, yeahhhh...

So you want me, yes you do.
I just don't believe it's true.
I don't want you to be mine.
I don't want a valentine.
You have my number, want to see
You don't mean shit to me.
Cause I don't need you.
I've got enough to do.

Chorus:
Lose my number, forget my name.
Oh to you they sound the same.
Oh you think that we're here to serve you,
Well Mr. that ain't true.
You have your girl, and something on the side,
Well damn it, I've got my pride.
You've got to chose.
It's a game to you and you're going to lose.

I like a man who only sees me
But with you, hows that going too be?
Sitting here,
You wanna call me dear.
I don't care,
Please don't go there.
I mind when you bring others home, and think its okay.
That's the game I ain't gonna play.

Chorus

I wish you would understand,
I don't want you to be my man

Chorus (repeat)

Roll the dice you have to choose
You've gotta lose.