I hope that today will be a day in which we're all kind to everyone else as the hummingbird outside the library window is beautiful.
Today is good, and tomorrow is the way it needs to be.
Love forever,
c*
Friday, April 2, 2010
Don't suppress your feelings
Someone to give me pleasure: that’s what I’m looking for.
Despite having arrived at the conclusion that I am not a bitch, a bigot or a whore but a fool, I am sure that not only is it possible for me to find someone to give me pleasure but it is desirable for me and further that I am worth being able to receive pleasure.
I hope that you all are happy about this.
Next.
My travails with the mental health system.
Now, it is very easy to blame doctors and therapists for their insensitivity and cruelty and blatant attempts to force conformity on people. Even in retrospect I must say that particularly the latter act have mental health professionals perpetrated on me. But sometimes there is an awareness that one can be so difficult with oneself in a way that leads not to a better world or a better person but only to self-destruction. In other words, there are people who are compassionate and intelligent as much as if not more than their patients in these occupations.
I know there is a limit on how compassionate such people can be, however, since it is becoming obvious to me that I am at least potentially one of them and I have limits to my compassion. I believe that if I follow the road of listening to myself that I will find an answer to this quandary. I am able to be hopeful; I am able to be kind; I am able to be a good person.
Think about what psychiatry does: It brings people into a segregated setting with no ability to fend for themselves other than through obedience to the people in charge. It treats individuals’ problems through a combination of finding fault with individual responses to social situations (the hospital situation as well as the larger world) and mood-altering drugs. It makes people aware of their powerlessness and makes them treat themselves with hatred.
Now that contradicts much of what I said above. How can both set of facts be true? On the one hand a setting in which people in need of help find help and on the other one in which powerless people are forced to consent to their powerlessness.
The answer as far as I can tell is that life is a way to be nice to yourself.
The mental health providers may be afraid to ask themselves how to be people and the consumers may feel no place to give their freedom to a world running away from it.
Lastly, feelings give love to everyone.
Don’t suppress your feelings.
Despite having arrived at the conclusion that I am not a bitch, a bigot or a whore but a fool, I am sure that not only is it possible for me to find someone to give me pleasure but it is desirable for me and further that I am worth being able to receive pleasure.
I hope that you all are happy about this.
Next.
My travails with the mental health system.
Now, it is very easy to blame doctors and therapists for their insensitivity and cruelty and blatant attempts to force conformity on people. Even in retrospect I must say that particularly the latter act have mental health professionals perpetrated on me. But sometimes there is an awareness that one can be so difficult with oneself in a way that leads not to a better world or a better person but only to self-destruction. In other words, there are people who are compassionate and intelligent as much as if not more than their patients in these occupations.
I know there is a limit on how compassionate such people can be, however, since it is becoming obvious to me that I am at least potentially one of them and I have limits to my compassion. I believe that if I follow the road of listening to myself that I will find an answer to this quandary. I am able to be hopeful; I am able to be kind; I am able to be a good person.
Think about what psychiatry does: It brings people into a segregated setting with no ability to fend for themselves other than through obedience to the people in charge. It treats individuals’ problems through a combination of finding fault with individual responses to social situations (the hospital situation as well as the larger world) and mood-altering drugs. It makes people aware of their powerlessness and makes them treat themselves with hatred.
Now that contradicts much of what I said above. How can both set of facts be true? On the one hand a setting in which people in need of help find help and on the other one in which powerless people are forced to consent to their powerlessness.
The answer as far as I can tell is that life is a way to be nice to yourself.
The mental health providers may be afraid to ask themselves how to be people and the consumers may feel no place to give their freedom to a world running away from it.
Lastly, feelings give love to everyone.
Don’t suppress your feelings.
Monday, March 29, 2010
Dipped in tin
Winning over your friends --
At last there is a basis for understanding what I have been trying to do.
You all know Trotskyists: That’s what they do, and that’s the way I have been relating -- to no small ill effect, apparently.
Simply said, being good is like helping yourself to a lot of losing.
Quite succinct, you think?
Same here today, but shifting sensibility: I now am planning:
Plan A
School
Plan B
Status Quo
Plan C
Retro
The pain comes when you act badly.
The act is when you feel like crying and you work.
I am not one to feel badly.
Be.
Blessed.
Oh, here are a couple verses.
Cash in the cradle,
Money on the block
Pain is from shaming
Your sisters in the dock.
Candles flare above us
Weakness called you in
Maybe stars can save us
Fables dipped in tin.
Like?
At last there is a basis for understanding what I have been trying to do.
You all know Trotskyists: That’s what they do, and that’s the way I have been relating -- to no small ill effect, apparently.
Simply said, being good is like helping yourself to a lot of losing.
Quite succinct, you think?
Same here today, but shifting sensibility: I now am planning:
Plan A
School
Plan B
Status Quo
Plan C
Retro
The pain comes when you act badly.
The act is when you feel like crying and you work.
I am not one to feel badly.
Be.
Blessed.
Oh, here are a couple verses.
Cash in the cradle,
Money on the block
Pain is from shaming
Your sisters in the dock.
Candles flare above us
Weakness called you in
Maybe stars can save us
Fables dipped in tin.
Like?
Friday, March 26, 2010
Just a Note
Just a note that I’m tired of my own bigotry. I’ve got to work on it, work on it, work on it.
Second, there’s lots and lots of anxiety and despair coupling away in my brain. For one thing, I told my mom the other night that I’m here for the money. This does not bode well for anything.
I don’t know where my cruel streak comes from. It’s either suppressed anger or some kind of karmic residue from accusing others of cruelty. Or maybe as some might say, it’s only human (all too human).
I’ve quit cigarettes for the last three hours. Congratulate me.
I hope that there’ll be kindness and love for everybody this day.
Since Life is so boundlessly what you make of it, I will try to provide the same for at least today.
Remember “Affirmations by Stuart?” on SNL?
Second, there’s lots and lots of anxiety and despair coupling away in my brain. For one thing, I told my mom the other night that I’m here for the money. This does not bode well for anything.
I don’t know where my cruel streak comes from. It’s either suppressed anger or some kind of karmic residue from accusing others of cruelty. Or maybe as some might say, it’s only human (all too human).
I’ve quit cigarettes for the last three hours. Congratulate me.
I hope that there’ll be kindness and love for everybody this day.
Since Life is so boundlessly what you make of it, I will try to provide the same for at least today.
Remember “Affirmations by Stuart?” on SNL?
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
It's better now
Dear folx (never thought I would use that form of address):
I began writing a really good post yesterday but it went to nowhere land because either I pushed the wrong button or because of blogspot. Who knows?
Sigh.
At any rate I went through some of my blog from last summer and spring and found it often interesting and somewhat moving if over repetitive and of course overwhelmingly familiar to me.
I think what it all boiled down to was, from a line in one post, “I am still vulnerable to crack.” I am so tired of that, and I’m sure you are too.
What is a burning necessity to write about?
Understanding what happened December 4 and 5 in Albany.
To be honest, I am really fucked up in that I didn’t know or understand that there was no love and no fun in the way I acted. My exact love was not toward AC or NG, but toward the mess that I fetish zed as my “position” intellectually and emotionally in this world. I now know that I was fearful, that I was nothing to myself. If that had not been the case I would have been aware how dreadfully awry the visit was going much earlier than I did.
A little bit of awareness and love would have made everything much easier. I of course always claim those qualities as my watchwords. I cannot say that with regard to either AC or NG I was capable of understanding what they wanted or needed.
More specifically, I was a bitch.
If I could go back and live through all that again, I would have told AC that I was concerned about her, not that she was a “loser.”
I would not have withdrawn so completely into my shell to please my phantom version of what I thought she wanted, and thereby provoked both of us into anger and depression.
I disrespected especially AC.
It’s clear to me that fame and beauty and common human courtesy/consideration were nowhere near compatible.
I thought that I ought to rule the habitation. Why? Because I was a woman who could be free to do whatever I wanted simply because I thought I was good. The proof of that was in my internalized suffering. Gotit? Puritanism.
I hope that someday I will be able to acknowledge in person that I was a fearful, fearsome bitch and that despite my forgetting “why I liked her” that she was and is a woman with life worth both respect and caring for itself intrinsically and also as a great example of insight and of the wielding of the Goddess’s will.
So for now that is what I have to say. There’s only one way out of this mess and that’s to let Her Will be done.
Blessed Be,
A seeker for forgiveness.
I began writing a really good post yesterday but it went to nowhere land because either I pushed the wrong button or because of blogspot. Who knows?
Sigh.
At any rate I went through some of my blog from last summer and spring and found it often interesting and somewhat moving if over repetitive and of course overwhelmingly familiar to me.
I think what it all boiled down to was, from a line in one post, “I am still vulnerable to crack.” I am so tired of that, and I’m sure you are too.
What is a burning necessity to write about?
Understanding what happened December 4 and 5 in Albany.
To be honest, I am really fucked up in that I didn’t know or understand that there was no love and no fun in the way I acted. My exact love was not toward AC or NG, but toward the mess that I fetish zed as my “position” intellectually and emotionally in this world. I now know that I was fearful, that I was nothing to myself. If that had not been the case I would have been aware how dreadfully awry the visit was going much earlier than I did.
A little bit of awareness and love would have made everything much easier. I of course always claim those qualities as my watchwords. I cannot say that with regard to either AC or NG I was capable of understanding what they wanted or needed.
More specifically, I was a bitch.
If I could go back and live through all that again, I would have told AC that I was concerned about her, not that she was a “loser.”
I would not have withdrawn so completely into my shell to please my phantom version of what I thought she wanted, and thereby provoked both of us into anger and depression.
I disrespected especially AC.
It’s clear to me that fame and beauty and common human courtesy/consideration were nowhere near compatible.
I thought that I ought to rule the habitation. Why? Because I was a woman who could be free to do whatever I wanted simply because I thought I was good. The proof of that was in my internalized suffering. Gotit? Puritanism.
I hope that someday I will be able to acknowledge in person that I was a fearful, fearsome bitch and that despite my forgetting “why I liked her” that she was and is a woman with life worth both respect and caring for itself intrinsically and also as a great example of insight and of the wielding of the Goddess’s will.
So for now that is what I have to say. There’s only one way out of this mess and that’s to let Her Will be done.
Blessed Be,
A seeker for forgiveness.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
a girl traces life
Writing aloud:
JKH Julia struck Julia
I wrote the feeliing that I had.
Great.
Roind of life treats pain like a lost warrior.
I can tame myself.
Please know that there's friendship.
I wish to engage in a conversation with what are for me the remnants of the world I lived in.
Boing
Charm
Loss
Pain
Afraid
Fool
Temporary
Home
Etc.
In other words, betcha is pestering my friends.
Cap.
Me good for loving men who love fun.
Me okay then me try to be loving.
And family gives pain.
I love you.
a girl traces life
c*
JKH Julia struck Julia
I wrote the feeliing that I had.
Great.
Roind of life treats pain like a lost warrior.
I can tame myself.
Please know that there's friendship.
I wish to engage in a conversation with what are for me the remnants of the world I lived in.
Boing
Charm
Loss
Pain
Afraid
Fool
Temporary
Home
Etc.
In other words, betcha is pestering my friends.
Cap.
Me good for loving men who love fun.
Me okay then me try to be loving.
And family gives pain.
I love you.
a girl traces life
c*
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