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�2006 Candor Communications


2006-01-18 - 1:35 p.m.

deep thoughts about lightening up


first off, there are places to go, people to meet just one entry back that you may have missed because this entry came to be uploaded so shortly after the that one...

and then, I begin this entry with a thought about our neighbors up north, those we call Canadians... this thought is inspired by the fact that they have elections coming up very soon and a similar wave of fear-based decision making seems to be emerging in the collective Canadian psyche just as it's dominated half the voting population here in the US for a while now... if politics is not your cup of tea (and it sure isn't mine, but that doesn't mean I don't think on it from time to time), just skip ahead...

I always thought Canadians very sensible in many very important ways, having lived in Toronto for a couple of years, but come election time, even the most wise seem to be able to throw common sense out the window and replace it with fads and paranoid delusions... fear-mongers are gaining power in this world again, and that is never a good thing for the world, especially not for people... there's always hope the cycle will cycle once again and this will not be the last time we take the world to the brink of destruction... and my hope is that Canadians break the cycle by not giving into fear and derision, but by voting an open mind into leadership...

I will leave it at that, for if I must explain the cycle of history I mean, this will turn into a political entry and I am so not in the mood for that today... suffice to say I long for the cycle to return to a love-dominated collective consciousness...

and this is why...

what with my haphazard mail habits, it's not easy to surprise me with care packages of food, but I was bouncing up and down as I left the post office on the way home from work today because there was a box in my box... well, to be more precise there was a key in my box that lead me to a bigger box that contain a box that would not fit into my box (oh, the complicated way post offices work, aye?)...

in any case, I drove carefully to my appointed rounds (library, food shopping) all the while bouncing about the box that was sitting there on the passenger seat looking quite innocent, nonchalant, even... finally, appointed rounds completed, I headed home and carried my bags and the box and other mail up to the apartment and there's Precious waiting for a ride to school because she missed the bus...

now I could have taken the box along and had her open it while I drove her to school, but being that she usually has a lot of bags to carry and they end up on her lap, I figured it would be rather crowded and decided to exhibit more amazing will power by driving her to school and leaving the box at home...

finally I get back home and there's the box...

there's also a lot of food and I'm kinda starving having not eaten since the evening before, at least, so I opened the box because even my hunger could not override my excitement and curiosity and what do I find?...

breakfast!...

well, sorta... I found popcorn mixed with teddy grahams and big M7Ms in a few containers and some sort of pan cookie cake with nuts and chocolate chips and also a container of chocolate covered pretzels and luckily I am typing with my mouth full...

surely goodness and mercy will follow me everywhere I go...

it was a long long time ago that I started an online journal over at Live Journal and this behind the candoor diary has long since pre-empted that sort of daily life journal over there, but a few wonderful people I met way back then continue to amaze me with their sincerity and honest love... back then I was still wallowing in the losses of stuff due to betraying and thieving would-be friends and lovers and I created a gift list that had a few books and some other stuff on it because those were the most important things I was missing as material things go...

one of the few books listed (maybe the only one at the time) was Illusions by Richard Bach... and some three or four years ago I stopped by my PO Box and there was the book, as surprising as the book itself, waiting for me to lay with again...

she did it...

and so much can be found from there and more to follow on the links on her site (and those who she links to, beautiful wonderful creative all), but today we can visit her most at her live journal obsidiabuttrfly...

so I guess my diet can wait for next month...

yes, excellent baked goods, yummy snacks, delicious candy... and still fresh (well, fresh enough for me to devour it happily) in spite of however long it waited in my PO Box... a reminder from my thoughtful, intense, generous, compassionate, sensitive, wonderful, beautiful friend that the energy of love is what matters in the world and it is always there, just flowing around, just waiting for us to be aware and tap into it...

and now, before I turn completely to mush and mess up the keyboard and your screen with incoherent gibberish (as opposed to my incoherent babble, aye?), I reach out semi-randomly (if you believe that) to segue into the rest of this entry starting with an idea for cat lovers (or those of us with nothing better to do with our hands)...

yes, a couch for the cat who has everything...

and then, suddenly, that art form known as brushes (oddly, not even the great Wiki has an entry defining the new art that is so prevalent on the internet) taking me way back to love erased and maybe replaced, though not by choice...

and just when you think that I may be lightening up...

maybe I am J

but it's not all some quest for popularity, you know... at least not for me (though ego, which I accept as part of me, still craves the spotlight and fame and fortune to afford more craving for the spotlight and adoration and passion from the masses and you... and then there's that savior complex {or simplicity, depending on which side of the isle you sit}, but that's another altruistic selfishness formed by the merger of ego and heart that I tend to ramble on about too much as it is, so I'll let it be and move on to other words of wisdom or folly)... you just know I had to mention smoog now, right?...

off course, returning to the previous paragraph of linkage, you know that will all those windows and other sites open (and more, naturally), the good old reliable Internet Explorer 6.0 crashed with some runtime error (which is different than the other errors that usually plague the software, but nonetheless wipes out the flow and path we were on so we shall continue from where we left off as well as memory and history can take us back there...

of course it probably didn't help that I started downloading every Elliot Smith mp3 on that page simply because I found myself there and free music is addictive, even though I am not sure if I ever even heard an Elliot Smith song, but I still tried downloading as many mp3s as this computer could handle at the same time and sure enough, crash, re-enforcing the ultimate lesson of the moment...

everything has limits in this machine world...

the key is to know how to make the most of them and self... the following note comes from my dear Nicim, or more precisely from her father, and it is the clearest and most succinct advice I have ever seen in words for anyone growing and becoming an independent, actualized person in this world... I reproduce is here with reverence and love:

Dear Anna,

I cant give much advice that would be of any use, but there is one thing I do know.

You must realize the potential you possess, and assess your wishes and desires against that. You have an I.Q. of exceptional range, but it has only so much meaning. Mostly that you can be your own critic.

Look at where you are, where you wish to be, what is needed, and decide how much you want. You cant have everything. Then work for what you believe you can attain.

Love,

Daddy.

brilliant, sheer brilliance... I'd have loved to have known that man... I love it when I read something I so often do not seem able to do, to be succinct... to put clarity and genius in a few words... I wish I had such guidance in a real live person in my physical world life as I made the journey from the womb to independence... luckily I found my influences in books and culture and feel great about my choices...

what was that about lightening up?... but I am, in my own way... even if it looks like slight of hand (or some sort of oxymoron... I've always liked that word, oxymoron... I once thought it was the process of breaking down a moron, you know, oxidation?... I was a heavy thinker as a child... see how much I've lightened up already?)...

ok, in my never ending (and completely unintentional) quest to find other people's most intimate psychological undergarments and try them on myself (or at least put them on my head), I invade willow's personal head space and relate altogether too well for comfort to the protagonist or antagonist or subject or predicate or something in her heartfelt story of her personal experiences with male parentage...

being biologically disconnected from the entire human race has always been a bone of contention of sorts with some deep rooted part of my psyche that sought unconditional love and trust and belonging to someone somewhere and I've learned to be relatively happy comforting myself as only I can by being my own biological family and accepting the relativity of everything and the temporariness of this life and the blessings of understanding and actualizing the momentary living experience, but sometimes someone or something strikes an uber deep chord well enough to have me shaking in my boots that thinking too much could very well upset the fragile house of cards that is metaphorically and euphemistically called the human psyche...

specifically, mine...

so it might behoove me to skip it entirely, but you oughta know by now that such events rarely happen in my head, so it might be a long and boring entry based on rooting around in the dusty musty busting out all over nether regions of my psyche starting with a bit more analysis of the analysis found in the comment that was inspired by willow's entry which follows thusly (my comment, her entry is clickable):

tears in my eyes... could it be that he can write much much more openly and intimately about his feelings than he can talk or show in physical gestures?... sounds a lot like the person I see in the mirror these days (and wasn't at all the person I was before, well, before)...

I say write back, maybe write often, maybe give him your diary page or send him this entry (I would, but then, I have this habit of total exposure in written words as you may have noticed)...

he wrote love, call him on it (I laugh as I write that hoping you find the humor as I do not mean confront, I mean tease honestly... like 'I want to love you father, but I don't think I ever learned how'... and hope he comes back with a 'maybe we can learn together'...

I am so hopelessly romantic, huh?...

this entry was way too up close and personal for me, not too much of you, too much of me (at least the me I may have become in the last few years... maybe... sort of... in a way... yet I still do receive well and respond ok, I think, I just stopped giving... but this is your comments and not the place for my self-analysis... see what happens when I think you might be sending me music?... see what music can do?... and your wonderfully honest and expressive words?... I'm going to stop now)...

but not before I say thank you... thank you for sharing yourself, your feelings, your life J

yeah, I included the whole comment in the hopes that maybe I cleaned up my act and concluded in a cool together I'm just fine with it and the world and everything, but the universe in my skull apparently wishes me to endeavor further along this path so I shall...

after getting a bite to eat (ah, the great escape)...

sucks, dudnit?


. o O ( carefully crafted avoidance habits at work here ) O o .


oh ok, cutting to the chase we find the chilling thought that I might be turning into the cold, callous, flippant, unable to show a fraction of a real feeling (other than complete breakdown or rage) role models I had in immediate physical living spaces throughout my dependent childhood...

it would be great if, right about now, someone could reassure me that I am not, but having no biological family and having had created no biological children, there's no one in such a position even if they wanted to and had credible evidence to do it (reassure me that I am not unapproachable and aloof and distant and so on)...

one thing is fairly evident to me and that is I am physical creating a barrier between myself and intimacy in the physical world by eating more than I need and therein bloating up this body to uncomfortable proportions and when I am uncomfortable in this body (and just 10 pounds over my comfortable weight is uncomfortable enough for me to be uncomfortable) I reject any notion of physical intimacy... heck, I don't even enjoy hugs... not that I do not welcome and give hugs, I just do not enjoy my own body, I do not enjoy the way my body feels, so it's not an experience I seek out much when I am living in an uncomfortable body...

but the gist of the whammy I am laying on myself in this particular thought is the question of whether I am doing the same thing in my head... am I bloating or otherwise making my psyche uncomfortable to be me... or am I being uncomfortable being me and therein not being me... or something like that...

so not rhetorical, these questions are, yet even Yoda could not answer them for only I can answer them and I am too busy looking for the next snack to distract me from my mind... that poem I still have not been able to find (perhaps a search of references at the library may be in order... one accidental moment I remember and happen to be sitting at a library reference computer, perhaps... when a man is alone too long... in this case, when a mouth is alone too long it seems to easily turn on the brain and psyche eat it alive...

amusing metaphor, perhaps, if it wasn't actually happening to me (and is it madness that I am laughing at my language?... the greater escape, the words, saved me every time in the past and lead me back to music where others words saved me {from the darkness of hell, the pits of despair, the gray dead of mediocrity, the absence of feeling, apathy, ambivalence, procrastination, self-abuse, destruction, depression, vegetation, death... all in all, not a very promising path, I suppose, and one I see too well traveled by humans in this life and one I continue to resist embarking upon, in spite of the slide that so draws us all in it's direction} surely goodness and madness will follow me all of my days and save me from my own self-doubts and weakness, cuz I want that most of all... there's no place like home, even if it's just a dream... home remains within us all)...

sometimes the escape and distraction works great... sometimes it just makes me impatient and cuts through the babbling play or self-pathetic waste (I prefer the latter cut, personally)... this time, who knows...

the bottom line is I am as certain of this as I am of anything (short of the most certain thing I know, that the more sure I am, the more wrong I can be... that's the fundamental first law of simple psychic physics, in case you didn't know... maybe someday they'll call it candoor's first law of psychic physics and I'll be laughing at them for reinforcing my own egocentric pomposity, but that's neither here nor there... well, it might be there if there is then, but it's certainly not here and now so let's get on with this dissection, shall we?)...

yes, I was certain of something most certain at that and it still remains certain here under my hat... I am a mush-puddle... now we all might define mush-puddle in our own way, as we each define every bit of language in our own way, but the reassuring identification with being a mush-puddle in my mind is found in my definition which I may even provide for you in long winded words right now...

a mush-puddle is about as approachable and malleable and cooperative and open to everything, especially to loving, as it gets... emotions, genuine shared emotions, turn me into mush... mush is the metaphoric technical term for that emotional feeling when the word shhhh is all that needs to be said as we rest comfortably in shared space... it is being empathically open to shared understanding and compromise enough to cut through all doubt or fear or disagreement to the honest love that every heart seeks and can share (and wants to, in spite of the walls built around it)...

at times, I can be quite invisible... that's the selfless part of mush... that's mostly where I live in the physical world today and I compensate for that by rambling on and on and crying out for attention and recognition and acknowledgement and compassion and understanding and empathy and yes, mush, in words online...

so that momentary pang of drop-dead fear of actually becoming a stone hearted closed minded wall of unapproachable grown-up has passed as quickly as it rose from the darkest of infinite possibilities... that does not mean all is well with the world in my life or psyche, because I still have the mouth to deal with and it is doing a fine job of eating away my brain and psyche and the time I have left in this life...

but it's good to know I am still in here... even if rarely seen by the naked eye outside of words and even if never seen by anyone but me... the scene from hook comes to mind where the kid squishes Peter Pannings face together in his little hands and gazes into the pudgy grown up eyes and speaks the revelation, "there you are"... someday someone other than me will do that to me, but hopefully they won't have read this or any other mention of it because then the practical realist in me will forever wonder whether my words and desires influenced the moment... or at least I'd wonder for a while...

who understands the grinning fool
who thinks being naked is cool
who can endure the open mind
who thinks the truth is always most kind
who can withstand the open heart
who finds strength in falling apart
who can comfort the infinite soul
who loves to give up all control
and still remains intact
aware of the exact
who can sign this contract
with fantasy and fact

who understands the simple man
who reaches beyond the master plan
who knows just one place to belong
in the words of this song

well that's one that will have to be finished at some future time when my consciousness catches up with the potential enlightenment it might lead to because for now all I shall do is laugh at the words and enjoy them as they comfort me to solitary slumbers... golden slumbers fill my eyes and smiles awake me when I rise as beyond any tears I cry a rainbow sings a lullaby...

and you thought I wasn't lightening up...






. o O ( NOTES ARE THE NEW HAPPY PILL ) O o .
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