Showing posts with label self-discovery. Show all posts
Showing posts with label self-discovery. Show all posts
#Value
Instead of getting that paper, find real value and real substance.
Why conform to what society, the government, corporate and big business, wants or expects?
Material possessions, things, more stuff, bigger, newer, latest, luxurious, brand, labels.
Don’t allow yourself to be a slave to the system.
Always seek your spirit and live for your soul.
Stay true to yourself hold value to what no one can take away.
An Atheist Finds Forgiveness
My journey takes me to Forgiveness. True Forgiveness. I start with Jesus Christ. I am forgiving him for what many of his followers do and letting go of the grudge I held against him for it. In doing so, I am becoming closer to the man, the prophet, and the truth of his teachings. I am not becoming a Christian nor will I ever. I am becoming more enlightened.
#ILoveYouJesus
Neil deGrasse Tyson Selects the Eight Books Every Intelligent Person on the Planet Should Read
- The Bible (public library; free ebook), to learn that it’s easier to be told by others what to think and believe than it is to think for yourself
- The System of the World (public library; free ebook) by Isaac Newton, to learn that the universe is a knowable place
- On the Origin of Species (public library; free ebook) by Charles Darwin, to learn of our kinship with all other life on Earth
- Gulliver’s Travels (public library; free ebook) by Jonathan Swift, to learn, among other satirical lessons, that most of the time humans are Yahoos
- The Age of Reason (public library; free ebook) by Thomas Paine, to learn how the power of rational thought is the primary source of freedom in the world
- The Wealth of Nations (public library; free ebook) by Adam Smith, to learn that capitalism is an economy of greed, a force of nature unto itself
- The Art of War (public library; free ebook) by Sun Tzu, to learn that the act of killing fellow humans can be raised to an art
- The Prince (public library; free ebook) by Machiavelli, to learn that people not in power will do all they can to acquire it, and people in power will do all they can to keep it.
If you read all of the above works you will glean profound insight into most of what has driven the history of the western world.
The Story of a Nonconformist
I am a Freedom
Fighter.
My message is
Freedom. Freedom from everything, freedom for everyone, and freedom to be.
I was never on
the “inside” and when occasionally invited in I was uncomfortable having to put
on a coat and gloves for the chill. I was forced to be outside. But I never
stood looking in the window motioning for someone to open the door and let me
in. I ventured to explore the world outside. Being gay and growing up in a
small town at a time when it was still unacceptable has given me an incredibly
mysterious gift and curse. I can’t say I’d ever change my sexual orientation if
given the chance for I would be a completely different person all together. An
easy ride would not take me down the road I am on.
In elementary
school, they said I ran like a girl. Walking up to bat, throw, or kick in gym,
classmates would yell “easy out”. I didn't have the skills for ball games. I could run and I was fast. I always placed 2nd or 3rd in annual sprints throughout public schooling. Amazingly enough, I was good at more competitive sports like hockey - much to everyone's surprise. Perhaps I was more motivated to race my classmates for the puck. They were always a little taken back by my sudden aggression played out during.
Although I was known to be gay or different, I was still rumored to be involved in sexual trysts with skanky girls. To my uneducated peers I was just a pervert. This strange aura I wore attracted the curiosity of a rebellious troubled sort in middle school. He was my first hard crush. He taunted and teased me in a way that was oddly sexual, oddly bully-ish. By high school we had wandered in different circles. Any association with me had become too uneasy for most by this point. In retrospect, I think he had an adolescent flirtation with bisexuality, but this is my story not his.
So I introduced myself as a high school freshman by bleaching my hair strawberry blond (it was kind of orange). A fairly rebellious act as this was before the boy bands of the late 90s made it a trend. I was nicknamed “Goldie” and enjoyed my controversial celebrity status. I believe this is when the narcissism kicked in. I enjoyed making up things about myself just to see what absurdities my peers were willing to believe. None of these stories were flattering, quite the opposite. I made myself the celebrity, school the tabloid, and my classmates the losers reading it. When I couldn’t get into Journalism class, I found a direct route to writing for the school paper. I wrote to the editor of the state newspaper who published the county school paper. I was able to get my pieces published in the school paper (more often than the journalism class) and the state paper. I used this perfect outlet to tell the school exactly what I thought and how I felt about them, while of course doting on myself (Read those article clippings here). Everybody was pissed and miffed by my blatant “in your face” diss. One coach/part-time teacher read the article to his class and all but insisted I stand in front of a firing squad. Prior to this, I had exercised my teenage angst by setting school trash cans on fire (sad attempt at burning down the school), a fist fight, and setting off firecrackers in the stairwell to mimic bombs (it actually sounded like an air raid). Needless to say, I stood like a pleased fan of The Anarchist’s Cookbook watching the terror of my schoolmates running around aimlessly. Now the idea of terrorism seems to be in opposition to the fight for freedom. But doesn’t every waged war hope for freedom? I have since evolved from that boy who acted out of fear and hurt.
Although I was known to be gay or different, I was still rumored to be involved in sexual trysts with skanky girls. To my uneducated peers I was just a pervert. This strange aura I wore attracted the curiosity of a rebellious troubled sort in middle school. He was my first hard crush. He taunted and teased me in a way that was oddly sexual, oddly bully-ish. By high school we had wandered in different circles. Any association with me had become too uneasy for most by this point. In retrospect, I think he had an adolescent flirtation with bisexuality, but this is my story not his.
So I introduced myself as a high school freshman by bleaching my hair strawberry blond (it was kind of orange). A fairly rebellious act as this was before the boy bands of the late 90s made it a trend. I was nicknamed “Goldie” and enjoyed my controversial celebrity status. I believe this is when the narcissism kicked in. I enjoyed making up things about myself just to see what absurdities my peers were willing to believe. None of these stories were flattering, quite the opposite. I made myself the celebrity, school the tabloid, and my classmates the losers reading it. When I couldn’t get into Journalism class, I found a direct route to writing for the school paper. I wrote to the editor of the state newspaper who published the county school paper. I was able to get my pieces published in the school paper (more often than the journalism class) and the state paper. I used this perfect outlet to tell the school exactly what I thought and how I felt about them, while of course doting on myself (Read those article clippings here). Everybody was pissed and miffed by my blatant “in your face” diss. One coach/part-time teacher read the article to his class and all but insisted I stand in front of a firing squad. Prior to this, I had exercised my teenage angst by setting school trash cans on fire (sad attempt at burning down the school), a fist fight, and setting off firecrackers in the stairwell to mimic bombs (it actually sounded like an air raid). Needless to say, I stood like a pleased fan of The Anarchist’s Cookbook watching the terror of my schoolmates running around aimlessly. Now the idea of terrorism seems to be in opposition to the fight for freedom. But doesn’t every waged war hope for freedom? I have since evolved from that boy who acted out of fear and hurt.
Growing up, I
was really skinny and insecure about it until I arrived at the gay bar. So when
I put on some weight I felt a little more comfortable. My personality had to
shine through because I couldn't rely on my boyish charm and innocent looks
anymore. So my sense of humor came through and won people over. I felt more
masculine. And the real me (I was insecure about sharing) was accepted. People
often mistake me for being vain. When the truth is I am working out my own
issues and insecurities through sharing. I do not share pictures of myself
because I think I’m hot or sexy and seek validation. I seek acceptance of self
by not hiding. I have what has been an ethnically confusing face and a body
that has fluctuated from scarecrow to twink to cherub to man-boy. So, I have a
love/hate relationship with my weight. But I think the "hate" is from
external forces.
As a new adult,
I came out to the world outside my hometown. I had that deceptive idyllic notion of
the gay bar as being this happy wonderland where I would be welcomed with open
arms. As if I had finally, found my tribe. Truth is, I don’t have a tribe. There
isn’t a group of people like me. I wasted too much of my early adulthood
searching for such a tribe. When the gays tried to label me “twink” or exercise
their preconceived notions based on my youth and appearance, I rejected them. I went to the club to dance and participate in the theatre of it, not to hook up. I
still did things to stand out. I wore "art" shirts and did odd things to my hair that entertained me. I danced on stage by myself. I danced to music
no one else would get up for.
I was in a waffle shop around 3am after a night out of wearing some fairly flaming attire for Halloween. There my partner and I were accosted by some local rednecks with rude anti-gay slurs. I denounced them all as trash. There was no way I would concede on a stare-down with a 300 pound man who didn’t like being told he was trash. My passion was greater. I was confident I was not their ideas, he was not so confident he was not mine. He eventually took his seat.
I was in a waffle shop around 3am after a night out of wearing some fairly flaming attire for Halloween. There my partner and I were accosted by some local rednecks with rude anti-gay slurs. I denounced them all as trash. There was no way I would concede on a stare-down with a 300 pound man who didn’t like being told he was trash. My passion was greater. I was confident I was not their ideas, he was not so confident he was not mine. He eventually took his seat.
Living in the
south (northern Florida), for a couple of years I experienced a twist on the
traditional white vs. black type of racism. The white people were so afraid of
being accused of racism; they allowed the black people to be the exception to
any rule. The black people at my place of work were not held to the same
standard and it wasn’t exactly a hidden truth.
I am all about equality. Equality has no exceptions. I of course did not stand
for this inequality. It wasn’t long before my use of the word “ghetto” in
reference to a black co-worker’s attitude was turned into a racist rant. Explaining
the origin of the word and its usage saved me from ultimate demise. Afterward,
my supervisor sent me the Ebonics Dictionary --- to reference diverse
communication? I still can’t justify that act. However, later when a co-worker
voiced her disgust in a meeting over Disneyworld’s “gay days” stating “That’s a
family place!” management merely shrugged. I also became a member and lead
coordinator of the Diversity Committee which appalled some. But what better way
to educate the alleged ignorant?
I’ve been fired
for being gay (Read that story here)
and I’ve combated the evils of jealous gay managers and closeted gay
co-workers at Ricoh. There, was the kind of homophobia that manifests from jealousy and by bitter gays who are unable to mesh or integrate into “straight society” in the same fashion as I am able to do, for instance. I was unapologetic about being myself, loud and proud---and that always rubs certain people the wrong way. It was someone’s fear of being outted or likened to homosexuality that ignited the spark that burned homophobic fires again. Ricoh is a place where otherwise hopeless bottom feeders get hired to do menial tasks with constant harassment from their under qualified and inexperienced management team. Thus, creating a cesspool of misery. In the end, I realized the torment and suffering of some individuals who caused me harm. For they have not the freedom I do. They are slaves to societal norms. I retracted plans for revenge and left them with their envy.
I have studied
Christianity and Buddhism, taken up Yoga, and vowed to be a better citizen of
the planet all at my own pace and never to be trendy or righteous. I
have always been an optimist. I guess you could say, I rarely let people see my
private pain. I rarely share my troubles or worries. And instead put out all
that is good with me – happy go lucky I am often known to be. I do not share my
spirituality to preach or act as a guru, but rather to help myself stay on the
path. I do not share my writing to insinuate mine is the work of brilliance,
but rather I share my story through it and even in fiction lies elements of
truth.
I always felt
society expected people like me to apologize for having ambition and
determination. There are going to be times when you are not
liked and are treated like you have a curse. Telling the truth, standing up for
what’s right can be a lonely way of life.
Much controversy has been made in my presence and of course it has
never been my style to avoid that. I am not afraid of controversy or being unpopular.
People have been afraid of losing their jobs by mere association with
me. As a writer, I must write about my experiences. The only way to be free is
to put the truth out there.
I must tell my truth.
I must let them know of my humanity.
I cannot stand silent.
I cannot cower.
How would civilization ever move forward if we all just kept quiet and
stood in line?
I do not like or follow those who are merely famous, talented, popular, beautiful, acceptable, or the like. My heroes have always been the rebels, the outsiders, the controversial, the game changers --- And like them, I will always dance to the techno beat of a different synth; until the hour my heart gives out from exhaustion.
I am in debt to no one but myself; for all the time I doubted and discredited myself.
As I get older and approach my mid-thirties, I live more for simplicity. I allow what is natural, to be. We spend our adolescence imagining what we want to be and our twenties trying to be that. The time of creating oneself passes for the time to be oneself. I am freer from what people think and comparing myself to others or the ideals of what and how I should be. I can’t really say I’m the best at anything --- but I do know that no one does it like I do.
I am no longer searching, no longer yearning. I know what I have to do. My place, my path --- it's so easy; to be good to others (and forgive my foes), to be grateful (for what I’ve been through), and to be generous (to those on the other end of it). That’s true freedom!
As I get older and approach my mid-thirties, I live more for simplicity. I allow what is natural, to be. We spend our adolescence imagining what we want to be and our twenties trying to be that. The time of creating oneself passes for the time to be oneself. I am freer from what people think and comparing myself to others or the ideals of what and how I should be. I can’t really say I’m the best at anything --- but I do know that no one does it like I do.
I am no longer searching, no longer yearning. I know what I have to do. My place, my path --- it's so easy; to be good to others (and forgive my foes), to be grateful (for what I’ve been through), and to be generous (to those on the other end of it). That’s true freedom!
Everybody’s Got a Dark Side
Don’t we all have a dark side, a Mr. Hyde? A part of ourselves we
hide from others and only let out under controlled moderation? And in the city
where you live, in the shadows --- are there demons haunting you of your evil
deeds?
To be avenged…
“That the opinion of those who already think ill of me will worsen is
not my concern. I want all to know what I am capable of. I want it to be known
that betrayal is intolerable and that revenge is a master skill of mine. It
comes in phases. It takes time, which I have been given. The king of the jungle
waits for the perfect opportunity to strike. There will be no rest for my
enemies.”
~ From He Who Laughs Loudest Also Laughs Last
I realized that choosing not to fight did not make me weak. My heart forbade
me to do unto him as he did to me. I could have destroyed the one thought to be
responsible with what I had cleverly obtained through masquerade. I worried
about this dark path and my own karma. I came to a conclusion; they are not
stronger than me, they have no power over me, and I don’t have to show my teeth
to be victorious. Weakness and fear from my “opponent” started it all. I
learned my own strength; control and restraint. Walking on the corpses of my
enemies is no longer necessary to feel the sweet satisfaction revenge offers.
Knowing what I can do and letting go of that power is enough to be vindicated.
Don't we all sometimes see a sexier version of ourselves seducing us
into things like murder ("Pull the trigger, hire a digger")?
Guilt will haunt you on levels of your conscious you cannot control.
For a while, I was thinking maybe I should be less in your face,
controversial, and rebellious. I should focus more on the positive and ignore
the rest, for it wasn't good energy to put out. But to do that would mean to
suppress the talent and wit I have to rouse. Sometimes, life isn't pretty ---
and we have to face the realities and get down and dirty for progress. Can I be
more uplifting and positive energy focused… sure.
However, I shall not give up and be silent about the dark side of
life that also matters. Part of my purpose is to use my gift of wit to
challenge and change. I am a Freedom Fighter after all.
Mid-Thirties Life Catharsis
I am old-fashioned. Why do I need to tan? I’m an Irish-American living in the mid-west.
I’m wearing my glasses more often instead of contact lenses. I rarely put product in my hair anymore. My favorite place to buy clothes is JCPenny.
The acceptance of the current/next generation's lack is daunting. I have the sensibility and intellectualism of a generation 20 yrs older.
I am not the 30 is the new 20. I am the old 30 is the current 50.
“The ravaged face in the mirror hides the enchanting youth that is the real me.”
~ Mason Cooley
Minimal Meat Eater
Once upon a time I became an ovo-lacto vegetarian. I felt
enlightened, evolved. I was in college and there were many things I was
becoming educated and passionate about; politics, philanthropy, and animal
rights. A couple of years later I gave into temptation, cravings, and other
influences from my Appalachian culture. I only sometimes indulge in eating
meat-like products. There are still many types and forms of meat that I do not
eat. When I eat meat, I do prefer fake meat or fast food such as chicken
nuggets and McD's (soybean) burgers. I think it's much like an affordable
leather sofa; it can only be 10% genuine for the price. And yes I am trying to
rationalize eating meat. I blame my upbringing, influences, and lack of
affordable and convenient vegetarian options comparably. I do think eating meat
is morally wrong and nutritional unnecessary. So I wrestle with my lack of
conviction and will-power. When I became an enlightened vegetarian, I was very
vocal about it. Now that I have decided to call myself a "Minimal Meat
Eater", I am a little more reserved when discussing my diet. One day, I'll
pack a cheese sandwich in my "No Animals In Here" bag from PETA and
my co-workers will ask, "Are you a vegetarian?" A few days of good
conscious eating later, I give in to having a hot dog served in the cafeteria
and almost want to hide. My diet confuses my co-workers and I try to explain by
coming up with this term. But why? Whose business is it anyway? I don't really
have a "diet", I eat what I want, when I want, and I don't eat what I
don't. I have no self-discipline; I am an American born and raised, forgive me.
Before the golden arches, I kneel and confess my shame.
Humanities 101, Michael Jackson, and Not Conforming
The human experience is exemplified through art and conveyed through the culture. It is said that music is the universal language, that poetry follows no language rules except those set forth by the author, a picture is worth a thousand words, and that the movies aren’t telling everyone’s story. It seems art is an ideal or exaggerated version of the human experience, religion is that which we seek but are often unable to manifest, and culture is the actual representation.
People are more the same than different. We all have problems, we sometimes have similar interests, share ways of thinking, and have similar feelings. We are sharing the human experience. All the exteriors that make us different, whether it be ones we’ve chosen to showcase our individualism or ones of circumstance; they are all a prismatic reflection of what magic the human spirit is capable of.
I was to discuss a random act of kindness I had done. I was without an experience to share. I guess I’m not nearly as nice or thoughtful of a person as I liked to think I was. I have decided to act more by putting charitable notions into motion. One day I think I’ll get together with a friend and go around town committing acts of kindness. We’ll be like serial kindness killers.
In the aftermath of his death, I believe there is a great lesson to be learned from the life of Michael Jackson. Jackson was very strange to most of us. We did not understand him. Most people it seems didn’t take the time to try to understand him. We really don’t know what his shoes feel like, where they’ve walked, or what they may have ran from. Nothing can excuse the violation of another human being if in fact he is guilty of such. However, it seems Jackson was tried in the court of societal standards and was found guilty. I have always subscribed to the theory that Jackson suffers from a childhood repression. He seems obsessed with creating a childhood he didn’t have. I think he likes children as his peers. I would say Jackson is more asexual that anything. Nevertheless, the point is we tend to label someone as a freak because we don’t understand his or her differences and we then believe almost any and every atrocious thing one could imagine about that person. For some reason, it seems the stranger a person is the more believable it is that some sort of perversion or depravity lies within that person. That is a sad chapter in the tradition of humanity.
People are more the same than different. We all have problems, we sometimes have similar interests, share ways of thinking, and have similar feelings. We are sharing the human experience. All the exteriors that make us different, whether it be ones we’ve chosen to showcase our individualism or ones of circumstance; they are all a prismatic reflection of what magic the human spirit is capable of.
Difference is a very deceptive illusion. I am not as different as I am comforted by using as an excuse for not being understood. I can be guarded and introverted. Henceforth, I often come across as arrogant. I need to lose my veneer of over-confidence and realize that everyone has issues, fears, and insecurities. The human experience is not about being an isolated, introspective fortress that holds strong, hiding its inner workings and exuding intimidation. It is more like being a stream; flowing over the rocks, under the sky, and through the woods; sharing, relating, and understanding.
My empathy for outcasts like Jackson has been reinforced. I have decided to be a more randomly kind person. Most importantly, I have discovered new challenges that are in store for the mysterious work in progress that is me. 
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