Tuesday, July 30, 2013

 Guilt shares no place among remorse.  And pity  is  for  those who have given up.
 The lady at  the gas station this morning had to  snap me out of the playground between my ears.  I asked her for a pack of smokes and  she told me "Only if you quit looking so evil first."  I just smiled because I know exactly what the hell she's talking about.  "So I guess that's a deal?"  she says, "Yea,  that's a deal."  I said laughing a little.

I absolutely love when this happens,  and you might be surprised at how often it does,  it's interesting.   Every once in a while someone will say something of that nature and call me out, I get so damn lost in thought sometimes I don't even realize I'm doing it.  It says something about the other person,  too.  I mean,  maybe they really do it unknowingly,  but I like to think they know exactly what they're doing.   And I always thank them,  too,  usually to  an inquisitive look.  Often times I try to do the same for others when I'm not so lost in my own shit.   Catching people lost in space  I'll say something to make them laugh or just more aware, a gesture to let them know they're not alone.   Perfect strangers changing the course of my day,  that's some powerful shit.   And what's even more powerful is that I'm capable of letting them,  cuz it wasn't always that way.

Monday, July 29, 2013

Me, lately...

 Philosophy is my  life.  I live it, I think it, I sleep it and breath it.   Everything can be philosophical,  it's just the way my brain works.  I talk about it constantly,  and I write about it.  But what I think people don't always see that I live it too.  I am a conflicted human being on many levels a lessonsf it comes from having the mind of an anarchist with a  Zen (i try)  demeanor forced to live among "civilized" primates that walk upright.  (that's a little sarcasm)   I've got a constant battle going in within about one moral issue or another.   I'm faced with an ethical dilemma,  and I'm writing about it so as to figure it out, I don't exactly desire input.  I  don't wish to sound crass but that's just how I am.  I usually know when I need to ask for other ideas,  and do.

My mother,  suffers from severe mental illness,  bipolar disorder,  but she's also an alcoholic/pill abuser who doesn't take her meds right.   I've dealt with it my whole life.   There were stretched of good times followed by the darkest depressions you can imagine.  I suffered through all of it with her by choice,  because I always felt a responsibility to her.   She's the only person who ever really understood me,  and I her.  .  More friends than mother and son.   Because of her illness she has  had all kinds of ups and downs in life.   Her illness started to progress rapidly.   Now if any of you know anyone that's bipolar,  they are difficult people to live with,  almost impossible.   And this isn't a stereotype,  it's the truth.   Especially one who doesn't take their meds right.   About 6  years ago I offered for her to live with me so she had no financial worries,  my only request,  that she take her meds right and she try to do something that makes her happy.   She was cool a while and then she started her abusing medicine and drinking binges,  and I gave her one warning while sober.... "if this happens again I will have to ask you to leave.  I won't have my son see everything I saw growing up."   She didn't even try and I asked her to go.   She has bounced around from relative to relative over the last six years and ended up in Wisconsin,  living alone.   That's the worst thing for someone like her,  trust me. You know,  in between her leaving my house and now I have tried to offer solutions and help and I don't blame myself for any of it.   We all make decisions,  and while she is mentally ill she had her own choices to make about taking meds and seeing other methods of relief.  I am a lot like my mother abd I suppose this is why I am so adamant about staying on top of where my thinking goes.   When I say I'm walking on the verge of insanity, I kid not.  I  mean it literally.   If I let that madness take hold and do what it wants,  I'm fucked.   I've been there, I know.   And so I do have my own experience in battling my dark side and managing to do it pretty well for the most part.    

But because of this gap between her and I now we've lost touch,  and she literally is no longer the person she was.   All traces of HER are now gone.   I've grieved and learn to let go of the old her and had to learn to set boundaries so as not to enable her to walk on me.   Its been difficult learning lessons in morality.   Which continues. She's been drinking non stop for months now and nobody knew.   Alcohol withdrawals are probably the most life threatening of any drug.   It will kill you.... and it almost did her.   Now my sister tells me we should have her put away somewhere that she's not a threat to herself and people will monitor her meds,  for life.  I don't agree with it.   That's not living life.    I don't agree with locking anything or anyone up for my  own comfort,  because essentially that's what it is.   To make my sister feel better.   I'm open enough to know that not everyone will deal with things the same as I,  and I accept it,  but I want to tell you how I would feel if I were her.   If I had lived her life and were where she is now I would rather die than live my life in a room being forced to take meds I don't want to take.   To me,  life ends when you're locked up like that,  with someone watching over you waiting,  waiting for someone to come and they never will.   So, I am conflicted.  I love my mother,  but I know her suffering and it fucking sucks to think that my logic would be to give her what she wants because I want her pain to end.   Now,  that poses a deep ethical question,  probably many of them,  actually.   But the truth is, I would feel the same for myself or anyone else in this scenario,  and I'm reasonable enough to not change my mind just because it is my mother.   This woman was beautifully creative as a painter and writer, and all of that is but a mere memory to nobody but me.   My sister's don't know her like I do,  they never understood her,  and they don't understand that this would not be what she wanted.   She wouldn't want to live that way.   She survived this time and I need to make sure she knows that she changed me in ways unimaginable,  and I'm sorry I can't do anything to save her,  only wish she could be free of misery.   And this is the first time I've cried about it,  and emotions aside I still feel the same.   There are other health issues at this point that make it so even if she were taking meds her brain is too far gone,  there's not much left there.   It's sad,  but that's life and one can do nothing but  watch it happen at this point.   We've tried to get her help over and over and she refuses,  and I suppose it go to the point where I had to cut her off because it was affecting my family.

 I'm certainly not going to argue with my sister over it.   It's hard to say "just let her drink herself to death "  and  that's not exactly what I want either  if you know me by now you understand,   but I do wonder why it's so easy to say,  put her in a place where someone will force her to live a life she doesn't want.  I don't know.  My mother has impacted my life greatly and I'll do anything I can within my limits.  I can't make her want anything.

Saturday, July 27, 2013

A little subconscious

My mind is all over the place lately, which isn't necessarily a bad thing.  I like to watch it wander sometimes, from a distance.   To become the one doing the observing is key.  I wonder,  in amazement, at the wandering that goes on.  Stepping back and seeing the subconcious work and react to life, it's almost an out of body experience.  The first time I realized this, about eleven years ago,  I was beside myself in awe at the way the world suddenly appeared.  I suppose we can call this an epiphany of a sort.  Now, dont miss take what I'm saying as some new age wackadoo stuff, and its fine if thats what you're into, but the brain functions on all kinds of different levels so there has to be some physiological reason behind it.  I believe there are reasons for everything, and I don't mean some mystical reasons out there somewhere, something we cannot see or know, there is a real, logical reason for everything even if I don't understand it.  I'm a little off track here, it would seem, because I write the way my subconcious thinks and I do believe it's part of what makes my writing a little different.  I just let it flow, and it does, from one thing to the next. Effortlessly the words pour out and before I know it, I'm sitting there wondering where it came from, and then it comes back to me.  A simple "Ah ha!" moment and it all makes sense.

And that was a mouthful, I will admit, but it's summer and I have been doing what I do best, asking questions and finding answers.  It has become apparent to me that I enjoy pain.  You know, pain kind of makes you feel alive, and I do believe that to a certain extent it's fairly normal, but I have an affinity for it, I tend to push all limits to see how far they'll go.  The truth is they tend to stretch pretty far, so I push it further still,  and the world goes round.

My most recent question to myself "What impact do we as individuals really make in this world?"  If life as I know it ceases to exist after death my time here is all that really ever mattered.  What did I do with it?  Did I make a difference in the way people think?  Maybe not many, but even a couple.  Nothing really carries on but the only thing we can't actually see, our thoughts and ideas.  Haha, for a man that needs concrete, physical proof of anything to look to something as abstract as his thoughts to carry him on is, well, rather ironic.  And so my logic goes...

There'll be more to follow, I am sure.

Friday, July 5, 2013

The Thought Police Are On To Me

I was in the shed yesterday, um,  doing what I do,  and I saw an old,  dusty ass box sitting in the corner. Curious, I take a peek and steal a glimpse  of half a dozen books or so. These books are familiar,  and I dig for my favorite of the bunch, 1984.   It's there,  tattered and torn,  yellowing pages falling out.  I can't help myself, I sit back down,  light up a smoke and turn the page.   Memories come flooding back to me,  ideas which I no longer hold,  though I do hold them close to me.  You see, 1984  is the book that began my love affair with reading.  Not only that,  but it changed the way I looked at things.  I no longer took things at face value,  it made me see that to question everything is to become closer to the truth.   The truth in me,  the truth in you and the truth in the world around us.  Freedom lies in the ability to think outside the boundaries and limitations set by those who know not what they do.  I was no longer a slave to the thought forms bestowed upon me by every unknowing soul I had ever entertained an idea with.   The fact is, I may not be sitting here writing to you the words I write had that seed not been planted.

So, it is in that vein that I celebrate our independence.  I believe it was upon these ideas of free thought that this country was built on.  After all,  action always originates in an idea and it takes a real sense of freedom to express ideas not viewed as commonplace or acceptable.  Real freedom breathes new and revolutionary ideas into the face of life and  shares a grin with oppression.   Ideas are all we've got if nothing else  in this life.   I've  kind of made it a mission of mine to help broaden the minds of those around me, and offer an opportunity to look outside the box,  and I have to admit the tree is fruitful.   Knowledge is power and to question the seemingly unanswerable  will always keep me asking for more.

 Live free or die!