Quick Search

Follow

Blog Archive

Showing posts with label what do you do. Show all posts
Showing posts with label what do you do. Show all posts

Tuesday, September 1, 2015

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. 

Sunday, December 28, 2014

Insanity



She darts to the bathroom knocking everything down in her way. By everything it’s meant – she knocks down pictures, guests that happen to stop by for her good friend for a brief moment and anything that can’t withstand the inertia of high velocity wind or the trembling and rumbling effect of a heavy foot. The bathroom is right around the corner from the room that she is in and she leaps into it like the ground she is dashing on is covered with lava, “FINALLY, the bathroom!” She gets to the bathroom, annoyingly flips the light switch on, unapologetically swings the door wide open, and leaves it open - no time to close it. She violently tosses the magazine full of cannabis that is lying on top of the toilet seat cover on the floor, rushes to get her belt off, and panics to get her pants down. Her right hand is in charge of making sure she gets her pants all the way down while her left hand cares more about making sure the toilet seat cover is up. Her whole body is aching and squirming at this point. There is even a little bit of urine starting to slowly streamline down her thigh like a tear you finally have to let go after fighting it back for so long. She hesitates no longer, swivels around, deeply exhales, and plops down on the toilet – using time and space breaking speeds. She lets out a long and alleviating sigh and the tension in her shoulders abates. Her entire body relaxes – from her posture to her toes; she slumps over in satisfaction, “Ahhhhhhhhh, yeeesss.”

She finishes pissing and looks around for some toilet paper. She looks and looks and looks…and looks, “Wow, there's no toilet paper, again." She smacks her lips with disgust and tries to find the next best thing to use. Her eyes scour the bathroom for something, anything. She comes across the trash can. She looks in the trash, inhales, and sinks into what almost feels like defeat, “this can’t be my last option, please, no.” She takes a beat and then grabs what looks like tissue that someone definitely tried to get every last bit of their nose on. She looks at herself in the mirror, scrunches her nose grotesquely, chuckles at her life in the moment, and proceeds. She stares at the piece of tissue, shakes her head very slowly, closes her eyes in shame, and wipes herself with this thing she found out of the trash. Too proud to drip dry – she’d rather trash dig. She sticks her tongue out, cringes, gets dry, throws it back in the trash, flushes the toilet, and washes her hands. While washing her hands she glances at herself one more time in the mirror, feeling somewhat proud because it's over and she made a way for herself, but weird because that just happened, and thinks, “They’re going to know I couldn’t have wiped myself. They’re going to wonder how I did or if I did. They’re going to know and wonder because they never have tissue here.”

And it repeats.

Translate