January 16, 2006


26 years in the making, I’m finally getting it.

* I talk not nearly enough, and I write way too much for the current crop of people.* My ways of thinking about this world do not compute with others.

* My observations about life will never be fully appreciated.

* Holding in 26 years of frustrations, anger, tears, depression, confusion, and only showing the perversity while giving the impression of being mature and intelligent creates one fucked up human mind.

* When at the rock bottom of depression, nothing will ever please you. Instead, humans are more likely to just continue to hurt you and make you feel even worse about yourself.

* You have to do things for yourself. No one helps you masturbate at night, so why should you expect them to want to help make you happy?

* Any attempts to make a depressed person happy will fail. You have to be yourself with them, and not be overtly concerned. They’ll appreciate the attention, not the constant worryng which will most likely make them feel like they’re even more screwed up than they thought.

* Telling me to shut the fuck up (online) will ultimately encourage me to the reverse.I will go on at length about a topic and will most likely drive that person away from me. If you stay long enough to listen to me completely, well, then you’re special and someone I don’t deserve to have in my life.

* The more unavailable a woman is, the more my desire for her will be. If you’re single and inviting me over after 24 hours of talking, you’re probably more interested in physical
contact than in me.

* Conversely, the more available I make myself appear to be, the more likely a woman will avoid me. This availability will be seen as a sign of desperation, which it isn’t. When I discover something/someone that I enjoy or find interesting, I need to explore it completely.

* I’m way too modest about my skills, my opinions, who I am, etc. But me being cocky seems to be a turn-off for the most part.
* When I deal with people in person, outside of the family, I tend to make them happy with what I do. When I deal with people online, it’s hit or miss. Some people will enjoy being with me, others not. It’s no wonder I wish I could just skip the online part and meet people in the flesh.

* I live in my mind; others live in the world. I over-analyze, over think, am constantly struggling to understand things that just need to be felt emotionally or appreciated as simpler things. I withhold so many thoughts and opinions about situations because I know no one really cares about the details of life.

* I have a bad habit of making things out to be much worse than they really are.

* Writing out one’s most internal thoughts is a great way to make people avoid you.

* I seem to treat time as infinite and not finite. Most people I know want their sleep, have to find time to write emails/call/meet with people. Somehow, even when I was work 40+ hrs a week, attending classes, studying/researching on campus, I still managed to write emails promptly and deal with phonecalls in a timely manner.

* My priorities in life deal with other people and not myself. Whether this is a good thing or not is up for debate, but I would say the world we live in now would say it’s a bad thing. Most of the people are selfish at heart, so I should be too to fit into the crowd.

* I will never fit into any crowd. I stuck out in elementary school (wearing a jean jacket on day 1 in grade 4 in a new school, so not cool), junior high (too quiet, too fat), high school (too quiet, not athletic enough), University (from the Yukon, and too quiet), Syracuse
(from Canada, too quiet, couldn’t talk clearly, too unemotional), and now in Whitehorse again (too quiet, giving the impression of being a roller coaster of competent and incompetent when in reality it’s more of a roller coaster of caring and not caring). I’ve never found my clique, so I think I should just give up trying to find anything in common with a group of people.

* The person online and the person in the real world are as different as a sloth is to a raven. The sloth would see the raven and wouldn’t mind being like him, but finds associating with a raven annoying.
* I’m bipolar on many aspects of my life. I either love people, or hate them. I’m either
attracted to women, or I’m not. I either care about a certain issue, or don’t. I either want to be successful and have money, or be a starving artist who gives away all the money that I own.

* I write because I can. Length is a secondary matter to me. Subject matter is more important. Audience is no longer important.
* Being fake and trying to act like I enjoy something is the wrong thing to do.

* The more time I spend alone, the less at peace with who I am I get. Being alone gives me more time to analyze the person I’ve become and where I’m going in life. It’s not working out so well for me after being primarily along for well over a year and a half.

* I can never decide on what kind of a woman I’m attracted to. Do I want the stick-like Goth girl? Do I want the fit athlete with a lean body? Do I want the curvy woman with an ass to spank and breasts to suckle on as long as time remains? Or do I want your average woman who would be as tantalizing as any other?

* The longer I write, the more I think I shouldn’t even bother to find an end and just write. Maybe there’s more to come from the act of writing for me than the actual
subject matter.
You just read only 1000 words. Sure feels longer than that, doesn’t it?

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One Response to “Epiphany”

  1. …. this is a really good post — I loved the piece about it feelign longer — actually it did no tat all…… Rod

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