Expectations

I don’t even know why I bother. I can’t seem to deprogram myself. I keep expecting things and then I quickly remember that that’s a no-no. I shouldn’t expect things from people because I wouldn’t want anyone to expect anything from me. In fact, I don’t want anyone expecting anything from me unless you employ me and I signed some sort of contract. Now we are both in compliance and both should understand what is expected of me.

However, with no hint of a sealed fate, I can’t say I’ll do it. I basically want to be treated the way I treat others. Is that a crime? Probably, this is America and people will find a way to stone you and justify the crusade against you if something you do offends them. Expectations have been the death of me lately because I keep slipping back into that frame of mind. I blame all of my problems on social learning. This fucking society and having to learn about it has been the worst thing that has ever happened to me.

I hate the codes we live by and the guilt trips I get anytime I go against the grain. I hate the fact that you’ll burn more bridges or burn in hell (there’s always burning in hell) just by being misunderstood.  I get swept up into the trap of our oh-so honorable system of expectations that I’m constantly disappointed in others and myself (the shame! the horrrooooorrr!) Then I snap out of it and remember to just, “stop with the expectations and shit,” – Unknown.

It’s all a set up. Having expectations is a set up for a miserable, depressing, face full of tears life. Don’t let anyone tell you any different. It’s a trap. Okay, great, hold people accountable. Accountability:  prove to me you’re serious about whatever it is that is expected of you, prove to me your love, prove to me you care, prove to me you’ll be there, prove to me so I can prove to you what can prove to me– accountability. Listen, where is the contract, where is the compensation, where is the meaning of it all because that’s what this country has conditioned me to think about – the money and motive.

Is it the integrity part? Is that what is trying to be upheld here?  Well what if, just what if, without assuming those things still won’t be in tact despite me not meeting expectations I did still uphold the integrity. I guess it’s because I’m so cool about it and understand the ridiculousness of its extremity. In fact, sometimes I come off as meek and docile when really it’s the depth of my understanding of a lot of things that put me on the offense.

Once you understand something it isn’t a problem. Problems come by way of not understanding. I do. That reflects in the way I handle things and my character. I can’t ask for someone to be like me. I can only explain where I’m coming from and hope to be understood. No more getting pumped up to be let down. If I want to do something I will. If I don’t want to I won’t. That should go the same for those around me. That’s how anyone can truly be themselves honestly and openly and not be condemned for it.

Without expectations no one would do anything? Is that what you’re asking me? I don’t know. We haven’t gotten that far as a people consciously to truly really know. Without accountability no one will do anything? Is that what you think? I don’t know. We may never know. No one is forgiving enough, patient enough. Everything in the world depends on the absence and presence of something to validate its existence. We increase or decrease our value to others in this respect. It’s a science. My advice is to find something that makes you laugh, grab your favorite book, and live. 

The Illusion of Severity

"Have you started yet?" a faint voice echoes throughout the house.

The tiny muscle underneath her right eye has been pulsating incessantly, embarrassingly, for days now, possibly weeks; stress? lack of sleep? Mainly lack of sleep, but no, deep down, deep down her truth was more painful than that.

As she walks up the stairs and into her room she hears Sky’s voice from across the hall, “Have you started writing yet?” She groans, the pulsating speeds up, her shoulders tense, and she feels a little deflated,“No, I keep…, things keep coming up, and well I have been so tired lately. I am trying to fit it in, I am trying to start, yes Sky, I am going to do this! If you could just, please just, give me some space and not make me feel so bad about not getting around to it. I will do it one day. This week, no I will do it Tuesday as a matter of fact. I will write that down on my schedule for Tuesday okay?”

Sky immediately gets annoyed, “You do not seem very convincing; in fact I do not believe you. I am tired of the back and forth with you! I know you can do this you have so much potential you are just so damn lazy when it comes to the things you enjoy. Do you even really want to do this? Jeesh, just give up now while you still have time to excel at what you know you can be good at for sure. Excel at things that require organization and tasks being completed on time, and spread sheets, calculations, etc. It is the American way.”

She sighs, “Give up…hmmm”

She knows her pulsating eye, her twitch, is because of her lack of follow through; her lack of diligence. Her being lazy when she knows she does not have the time to be. Her drinking coffee when she knows it stains your teeth. Her spending time with love when she knows she has much more just as important obligations. Her sleeping in when she knows waking up even earlier than when she already does wake up is what she has to do. Her wasting time that she feels like she does not have.

Yes, you see her right eye that twitches relentlessly is purely self-inflicted. It only comes along when she goes against what she knows she is supposed to be doing.  “You’re right. Okay Sky let me think about it and I will let you know what I decide to do.” She closes the door, sits down on her bed, and  starts thinking:

Not finding a particular place or space to gather myself and actually do what I say I am going to do is done on purpose. I procrastinate and I loathe being this person. This person of self sabotage. This person who has to do what they are not sure they can do.

Okay let us look at the excuses one can make for such doubts in one’s character; you know as to why I feel so out of sync and creatively unproductive. Is it the society we live in today? I mean the times now are so different and it is not my fault there are perilous distractions of all sorts and kinds that keep me off my task; that make it so if someone is not paying me to do this so called passion I lust for so damn much then it will not get done.

If there is no one standing over my shoulder forcing me to do this thing then it will drag on forever; only as a perpetuate thought. A thought!  I agonize myself and consciously scorn myself for not getting this thing off of the ground yet this is what I want to be and do. In this life you have to accept a lot about yourself, the good, the bad, the ugly, the confused, the lazy, the lost, and the downright sheer lack of ingredients you need to fulfill your desires; or the perception thereof (because we all have what it takes you just have to tap into it).

Another excuse for leisure is contradiction. It is hard for me because everything about me is a contradiction. I have grown to accept this truth that dwells in a lot of us actually and life – so be it. I have a slight case of OCD ( obsessive compulsive disorder) and I am a bit of a control as well as neat freak at times when it comes to just about everything. Certain things that seem “out of order” will drive me crazy and can literally keep me up at night because I am thinking about it, frustrated about it, angry about it, “The lumps on my finger nails are pissing me off. It is not smooth, they are uneven, there is no symmetry, and I see a tremendous lack of precision. Why did I still pay for this bad job, because I am a fucking contradiction. I cannot stop staring at them! They are terrible! I do not care how painful it will be in order to redo them; I will risk the pain. Something not being done to my standards is enough to make me want to cry! I cannot believe this it is hideous!” Now to someone who does not have the pleasure of facing these emotions because it simply is not that serious, ever, I applaud your DNA, I applaud you and wish I were you. This particular trait in me, however, just will not go away. I have tried.

So how is it that I want to write? How is it that I want to freely create? Let loose? Unhinge? My contradiction.

What is your contradiction? Of course it may not be quite the same as mine but you've been there before. Sure you have. Especially when you know you are right about something and someone proves you wrong and you secretly agree with them, and what they are saying starts to make more sense than what you are saying as you listen to them, but you vocally deny their rebuttal. You, believe it or not, just contradicted yourself. What you “knew” and what you agree to are two totally different things or opposites rather. Or how about, as you are giving advice and coming to some sort of conclusion on a particular topic and you realize that what you are saying is an exact reflection of what you did not really know, in fact it is not anything of what you thought you were saying in the first place. You ended up giving advice on something that you absolutely in the end did not believe in yourself and it took talking about it enough to finally realize that. Contradictions of the heart possibly, or maybe you lead this whole other life you thought and swear you wouldn't and blame it on “circumstances”?

I say, embrace that about yourself, I say it is okay. Who am I? Well for identification purposes just think of me as your conscious friend who wants you to accept the things about you that just do not make sense. When you learn how to accept certain facets in, around, and about yourself you can be more effective, turn failures into advantages for yourself, and be more efficient because you will have a deeper sense of who you are; this oddly enough can motivate you.

Not that you are all that deep but it helps.

She continues sitting but at the moment her mind is completely blank. She stares at the floor for a minute and then it dawns on her that her eye not only twitches out of fear, disappointment, doubt, and lack of sleep but it happens on occasions of discovery as well. It happens to her when she gives her unaltered truth; when she acts without thinking, or when she feels so bad for showcasing who she really is that her own acceptance her own break through physically manifests itself, “The hell with this and that, contradictions and obligations and the world! A professional is merely an amateur that never gives up and with guidance I am sure I can do this.” She springs up and opens the door with optimism and a steady eye, looks at Sky and confidently speaks, “Tuesday it is.”