Voices of My Solitude

I doubt anyone will read these words because, I'll admit, it's a bit long. There is a lot of rambling and then some personal things. I got more open the more I wrote (so the good stuff is toward the end - hehe). All in all, I will say my 48 hours away from the world was worth it.

Saturday, November 18, 2006

8:55 PM
I’m sitting here thinking about how I have spent so many days in my life. Every time I go out, I’m on the lookout. I’m on the hunt. Have to find a girlfriend, have to find a girlfriend, have to find a girlfriend. Did she just look at me? Did she smile? Was she flirting with me? It never ends. And it’s so tiring. Hunt, hunt, hunt. Then I get home, alone, feeling empty and so depressed. Then I think about relationships and how they always seem to go, and I don’t want a girlfriend. I can liken it to two metaphors. One is when a child shows no interest in a toy, but when someone else plays with it, the child suddenly wants the toy. And, second, my personal favorite, when a dog chases a car - what would he do with it if he caught it? I guess I’m not always on the hunt, but when I see a girl I am attracted to, the hunt is on. It sparks and then suddenly every girl is in my sight. Is she flirting? Was that a smile? Could she be the one? Huh? Huh?

9:06 PM
Somehow, in my mind, I thought if I loved her enough, more than life itself, she would feel the same. She said she did, but I’ve learned that lesson well. People lie. I always knew this, but I thought “I love you” meant something when it was said. It doesn’t. I don’t use it a lot with people I don’t care about. If someone says they love me I want to believe them.

This brings up another point: trust. I wonder how the trust issues people have handed me will affect future relationships I have. Will I always be wondering if they are out sleeping around with other guys (or girls - ha ha)? Will I always be questioning every word they say to me? Will I question every motive for everything that is done?

I am a nice person. I trust easily. I expect the people I care about to feel the same. But so many people are out there to use and take advantage of others that it’s almost impossible for people like myself (the trusting) to trust at all.

I ended up facedown in the debris of our relationship.

9:10 PM
I think a lot about the girl I loved deeply, E.A.P. I love her still, I suppose. Every now and then my mind goes to us getting back together, but I know that is unlikely. As much as I hate to think of it, I’m sure she has gotten another boyfriend and moved on. It has been well over a year. She has so much to offer, I can’t imagine how she hasn’t moved on. She deserved better than me anyhow. Maybe in a different place, and definitely a different time, we would have worked.

Life is all about timing.

Sunday, November 19, 2006

12:11 AM
A short while ago I watched part of this year’s Comic Relief special. Very funny. I saw Robin Williams, Billy Crystal and Whoopi Goldberg (of course), and Debra Wilson, Mike Epps, Lewis Black and then the fabulous Roseanne.

Roseanne said something that struck me. She said a lot of people criticized her and hated her for her freedom. I love this. I live my life very free in a lot of ways. When I am out, I am outrageous. I say anything that comes to mind. I tease the waiters and waitresses, mess with theirs heads. I do the same with the cashiers at various places. I can be vulgar and often unbelievable in my behavior. It’s an act I put on, a different persona. I do this when I am at the Playhouse, or well… everywhere. I push buttons and I push the limits of what society will take (most times I say and do things that probably shouldn’t be done or said in public). When I am under the influence of this persona the world is my stage and I let loose.

When I think of the things I do and say as this “persona” I cringe. It amazes me. The sexual references, vulgarity, outrageous comments, the random comments, and the downright silliness… it’s so not me. But then it is. I’ve spent so much of my life bottled up that this outrageous person I become is my outlet.

I am willing to put money down on the cyber table right now that a lot of people in this town think I am on drugs or under the influence of something illegal and strong.

Oh, well, fuck ‘em.

12:20 AM
I’m an okay person. I am a nice person. I am. I know this. I know that there is not one other guy even remotely like me anywhere within 300 miles (at least). As much as people like to think we’re all unique, we’re not. At least not completely. Many of us are whatever we think we have to be. Or, whoever we think is most acceptable. Or, we try to be what/who we aren’t. That’s not me (anymore). I played that game and it doesn’t work. I am who I am and I will spend my life learning about myself. Life is our own personal journey and we spend each day, week, year, learning about ourselves.

I know I am not normal. A lot of this has to do with my mental issues. And a lot of it has to do with my sadness and bitterness for the state of the world. The hatred the people in this world feel toward each other. Churches have become (brace yourself) organized hate groups that are just teaching and spreading hatred and intolerance. The church my aunt attends is a great example. The youth minister got up and spoke to the church about how we need to change “them.” The words he said and the things he said made me so sad. This man, this leader/guide of the youth, is just teaching them to be intolerant of others. Even the preacher of the church has stated his incorrect agenda from behind his little podium. It’s sad.

So many things are wrong in this world. Roseanne said in an interview with Newsweek recently that she liked to pick at people (I’m not sure of the exact quote) until she got down to the real people they are. She said she didn’t like the fake niceness, and I agree. People have this way of being who they really aren’t. The more you become yourself, the more you see the bullshit other people are.

The more I think about my future the more I know what I’m meant to do. I’m meant to push the limits. I’m meant to share my thoughts and tell people what I know is right. I am meant to show people how to have a good time (people love going places with me when I am my “persona” since you never know what I will say or do). I am meant to stand up for the people who deserve to be stood up for. I am meant to help the less fortunate. I am meant to show my true self and, in the process, show the world its true self.

I am meant to be a journalist. I am meant to be a writer. I am meant to be who I am.

12:34 AM
I have been blessed with some very special people in my life. Some people I haven’t gotten to meet in person, some I have. In life, many people will come and pass through our lives. The trick is to hold onto the people that bring out the best in us and let go of the people who don’t. This is something I need to think about.

9:32 PM
One thing I have to let go of is the desire to be like others. In my mind I would love to be like the majority of other people. I’d like to be able to do college full-time, to be supported by my parents, to have tons of friends, to attend parties, to not be afraid to go outside some days, and to just be carefree.

The guy across the hall is the typical “hunk” guy. Loud truck, muscled body, etc. etc. Every now and then I see he has a group of people over and they just hang out. To me that is such a foreign thing. I don’t do well with large groups of people, that’s just not something I’d willingly participate in. Sometimes I get suckered into these experiences and then I change over into my outrageous persona.

But the fact is, as hard as it is to face, I’m not going to be like them. I’m not going to have the stereotypical life. I’m going to live a life that wanders around aimlessly outside the box. I am meant to think/live outside the box. Fuck the box. I will conquer the world in my own special way.

9:41 PM
I’ve been thinking about my childhood on this break. This is important because our childhoods create who we are. I was raised by my father and his on again/off again girlfriend, Rowena. Rowena remains one of the greatest and most influential people to grace my life. Other people helped out, but my dad was the only constant. Holidays consisted of just me and him. Sometimes Rowena was there and sometimes my Aunt Maggie was there. But it was never more than that. Holidays and celebrations were small and private. This may explain why I’m not fond of holiday gatherings today.

So many teachers used to worry about me because I rarely spoke. I spent a lot of time in silence. I know there were whole days I would go without speaking. I was incredibly shy. School was fine up until high school. High school was the beginning of my spiral into the world of Crazy.

I remember one day in my freshman year I walked in the front doors of the school and was spit on. And what did I do? I kept on walking without missing a beat. I let the spit stay on my face until I was around the corner and they couldn’t see me wipe it away. I had thick schoolbooks thrown at my back, pencils, rubber bands flipped at me, nails, chairs, etc. I always responded the same way; I didn’t flinch. I trained myself to take all of the books, pencils, paper wads, and other things without showing I had been affected at all. I sucked up the pain and pretended nothing had happened.

Then I tried to kill myself. I think I did it the first time because my father had found out I had been skipping school. I took every pill I could find. The result was a night of sweating, drifting in and out of consciousness, and awful things coming out of every part of my body. I’m sure I should have had my stomach pumped, but I refused to let my father know. The next morning, I got up and went to school. I told my favorite English teacher what I had done. He got with the guidance counselor and together they made me sign a paper that I wouldn’t try to go it again. I lied. Since that moment I have tried to resist making promises for fear of breaking them. I came home to freshly changed sheets; no questions. I took more pills, this time with very little effect. I can’t really remember all the details after this, but it resulted in me spending a week in a mental institution. And as I was leaving for the hospital around 195 miles away in Louisville, I saw my father cry for the first time. That sticks with me as one of the most painful things I have ever seen.

9:52 PM
In my Composition I class at Roane State I let my boundaries down. The first assignment we were given was about one of the best experiences of our lives. We were to work with a partner. We’d write our papers and then review/critique the other person’s work. I wrote about my week in the mental hospital. The girl whose work I was to critique wrote about getting out of a painful relationship, but she changed it after the first couple of days. She changed it to something like what the rest of the class was writing about. Most of the topics revolved around their favorite Christmas, playing football, getting a new truck, and all those wonderful subjects. Then mine. When I got the paper back the teacher had written a note at the top: “Very ballsy.” I keep this as one of my greatest compliments.

I had decided that I wouldn’t be like the rest. I didn’t want to write about something that really meant nothing to me. When I write I like to learn something about myself. Otherwise, what’s the point? Why bother writing it at all if it means nothing to you? In the end, I got an A in the class. I stuck all the way through trying to find topics that others would not be doing and I like to think the teacher enjoyed finding out what I would do next.

That’s really how I like living my life, I guess… With people wondering what the hell I’m going to do next.

10:37 PM
I guess the real knowledge is hidden in the fact it’s all out of our hands. This is a hard one for me. I like to have control on what is going on around me. Most of the time, not all of the time… Sometimes I like to have no control. I spent a lot of my life feeling like I had no power or control over anything that was happening to me. When I began sharing my thoughts and beliefs I began to feel a sense of control. When I write I have control. In the end, however, it’s out of our control. Any attempt to force things is futile. I have to learn to give up the need for that sense of control.

10:50 PM
I think I’ve accomplished what I can so far. It’s all about baby steps. There are no simple answers, no quick solutions. It will take time, but I am in the beginning stages of accepting myself and my life for what it is.

To borrow a line from Star Jones: I don’t know what the future holds, but I know who holds the future.

Monday, November 20, 2006

12:24 AM
It’s snowing. The ground is covered. The road is covered. The cars are covered. It almost makes me want to cry. I can remember when I was a child I loved the snow. It was such an experience to see it coming down for the first time each winter. Now, years later, it almost seems an inconvenience. I miss the snow. There have been so many Christmases without snow and it makes me sad. I hope this Christmas will be a white one.

I was laying in bed staring out the window at the softly falling snow with my dog, Annie, and my cat laying right beside me. It hit me that this was special, this moment. They are my family. My friends are my family. We create our families, they are not always the ones given to us. And I suppose the same goes for our perspective. We can create our perspective and certain aspects of our lives. I choose to embrace my life for all it is. I choose to embrace the fact my mind works differently. I embrace the fact my past will always be a large shadow over my present. I embrace the fact I am meant to share the truth of my life and hope that people can at least admit the truth of their own to themselves. I embrace the fact I will spend my life fighting for the truth and the things that matter. I embrace the fact I’m not always a nice person. I embrace everything I am and everything I will be. This is my life and it’s time I begin enjoying it.