I SPY....

I see you, I see all of you. I know what lurks beneath your thin veneer that is your personality. I see what most others cannot. I see your broken parts, your spitefulness and your need for control in all things. That is my gift, the gift that lets me glimpse under the mask of others. To perceive the unseen of humanity, the hidden in the depths of the soul. For it is not vanity that makes me speak this truth, it is just a fact of my person. Natures gift to me since birth, both a burdened curse and great ability of strength. It allows me to out maneuver you, as I do everyday; you throw your negative spiteful words at me. I show nothing on my face, or react in any outward way, but inside I laugh. For I know me just as I know you, my faults, weaknesses, and desires. I blame no other for my life, I who made my choices leading me here, but you look to others for blame. You who tries to rule those who are of stronger character then yourself, those who are more then you. I feel your shame for you, pity you and yet snicker at your vain attempts to be something else, your inability to hide what you are. I would not mourn you should you leave, in fact I often wish for that very thing to happen. One day I will be free of you, and you will have no one left to be spiteful of other then yourself. You will no longer be able to try to smother the good in others who are your betters, and without such you will wither into nothing.

Philosophy: I am not the only one out there!

        Recently I have begun my pursuit in a college degree towards being a Social Worker, and while picking out my courses I was handed a list of classes that I was able to take for my electives.

         Seeing Philosophy on there was kismet, and so I chose it with zeal. I've always been an arguer so to speak when involving things most people don’t think to question, though I hardly ever spoke my arguments out loud least I be thought of as a weirdo. Yet here I am now starting in a class full of people who think like me, people who question everything both physical and metaphysical.

         A year or so ago I debated with a family member about the existence of trees, which most likely sounds insane to you, but it was something my mind swung to allot. Just for a second consider it, when you look at a tree you think simply “this is a tree”, while I think, “why is this called a tree”, “who named it a tree”. From there you have to ask yourself who names anything in the world, was it god or man. Then you have to question the name god, and ask yourself “does he possess another name, or is it simple just God?” Did he name himself God? If so does that make him the epitome of all Gods since the word God refers to a species of being, or does that just make God a narcissist?

        I also question the physical-ness of us as corporeal beings, that is to say are we actually solid or are we only that way because we perceive it to be so? Could we not instead be a bunch of little molecules and atoms stuck together giving us basic form, like a painting done with Pointillism (pictures painted with dots that form a whole). Either way I am over joy-ed at the notion of embarking in this class; to know I am not the only one out there who thinks as I do is a blessing in itself.

the three 3 stages

My Dad's new wife seems to be having another one of her menopausal fits again. She seems to have them almost once a month like PMS. It starts off with stage 1: She acts like I'm not in the room. This is something that I actually enjoy because its no secret that I'm not a fan of hers and usually when she's in a good mood and talkative I have to waste time thinking up benign subjects to prattle on about with her for whenever we cross paths in the house. This is energy consuming cause while shes waxing poetic about her family and a slew of other things I don't care to know about I have to strain my self to keep an expression on my face that says both "I'm listening intently" and " I care about your life". It's draining.

Then we reach stage 2: This one bothers me slightly. She watches me like a hawk might watch a worm before it sweeps down to gobble it. She watches so she can find something to complain about. Then she'll either whisper her complaint to my father (if we are all in the same room), or she'll text him at work to register her grievances. This is childish. plain and simple.

We are now in stage 3: Mind you I usually just muddle through all these stages but oven blocking me is just mean. She knows i wait till her and dad cook before i do my cooking and eating cause I don't want to be in any ones way or have them in mine. but during this stage she purposely finds ways to be in the kitchen when I need it.  Grrr!!!


Im done ranting.