I live for those who love me, not for those who judge me.

October 30, 2011

Correcting people is a personality trait I have, call it a flaw or whatever you want. But it’s just one of countless facets of myself. If a person or people don’t like it or are upset by it then I am sorry they are upset. I don’t apologize for being me. Its not something I do to disrespect, or something I even do consciously most of the time. So if anyone judges me based on that trait, or a few others then they can fuck off. I don’t want them. And I damn sure don’t need them. I live my life for those who love me, I don’t live it for those who judge me. I couldn’t be paid to give a fuck about what those other people think. The only opinions I care about are the people that truly love me. Everyone else? Fuck them. They get my cordial respect if they give it to me, but that’s it. They have flaws that people don’t like as well. So they can stop talking about me, leave my name the fuck out of their mouths until their perfect. Or don’t, they can talk all they want. They make no difference in my life. At least no difference that I welcome.

My first reaction to hearing this was an explosive one. But I didn’t want to lash out. And I needed to think. I had to process what was said and weigh it against what I know. But that reaction although wrong, was not based in feelings that were inappropriate. To anyone else that doesn’t like what I do, I apologize for their discomfort (but not for who i am) because i don’t mean to offend. But for those love i apologize for any harm I’ve done. Any feelings I’ve hurt and any moments of inadequacy I’ve inflicted.

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False sympathy

April 17, 2010

FUCK!!! I just had an epiphany, my kids mother is gonna be kicked out by her sister again. This will be the the fourth time she has had no obvious place to go since I left her last June. Each time I get this feeling in my chest. I thought it was sympathy. That I was scared for her. But that always felt incomplete…now here’s the epiphany, right now I just realized…it’s anger. Rage. Malice toward her! I’m fucking angry! Furious with her!!! HOW THE FUCK CAN SHE DO THIS TO HERSELF AND TO HER KIDS!!!!!!!! How can she let them see this happen to her? Does she expect me to let her take them and expose them to this chaotic lifestyle of uncertainty and promescuity?! FUCK HER!! I’m fuckin enraged I can’t believe her! And I tried so many times to help her and she fuckin throws dirt in my face. I want to wish horrible things upon her. Things I could never wish on anyone else! Fuck why can’t I hope for somehing bad to happen to her!? I want to be able to but I can’t…I’m trying to wish something bad on her but I can’t. I WANT something bad to happen to her, Something really Fucked up, but I really sincerely hope nothing bad happens to her. Why?! Fuck she doesn’t deserve pity or kindness but I can’t help but give it. It’s draining me. To pour my compassion into a bottomless well of deceit dispair and hopelessness. It’s just so…sappng. I hate this. I hate her life. I hate that it’s tied directly to mine. I hate her.

A reminder for myself of what im living.

April 12, 2010

Evidently my life is hard. I never thought about it that way. I looked at things like a challenge. Single dad with 2 girls, challenge. Having a roommate because I can’t afford my own place is also a challenge. Father dying. Well that one is hard. Having to be my mothers caretaker is a challenge. And not always able to find the words I need is a challenge too. Doing it all almost by myself is a hell of a challenge. A very thin support system is a challenge. A lonely heart is a challenge. And making just enough money to barely stay afloat sometimes is a challenge.

All these things I’ve always looked at as challenges. Hard ones but just obstacles. A friend made me realize that when you put them together, I actually have it pretty hard. I have a hard life? Evidently so. I never thought I did. Maybe because I look at these things as things I have to do or cannot change, that way the tasks and pitfalls don’t seem so daunting.
Well now that I know what I’m up against I have to steel my resolve. I have plans…goals and ambitions but I don’t make myself follow them until the last moment. That’s got to stop.

So fuck hard. This ain’t shit. I got this.

Wrath

April 6, 2010

Today she felt some of my wrath. I am sick of her games. Her small jabs at me. The little pokes she claims are nothing. I know what she’s doing and she thinks she can get away with them because they are so small. But she pissed me off. I’m not gonna take her shit anymore. I said some of the worst things I have ever said. And I don’t think I regret a Single one. Though part of me wants to take that moment back. A small part. Another part is proud that it took less than a minute to bring her to tears and break her down to desperation. She’s not a bad person at heart. I don’t believe that. Perhaps that’s why a small part of me regrets it. But she shows no redeeming qualities. If there is someone good inside her they are long lost. She’s is rotten, inside and out. She is mean to anyone that shows concern for her. But her new “friends” and “boyfriends” get the royal treatment. Yet she can keep coming back to me for help. Keep coming back to the family she screws for help. And she thinks nothing is wrong. She didn’t believe me when I called her a bully. Didn’t believe me when I called her a horrible person. But that’s what made her break down. She is more of a detriment to our society than an illegal alien. And so I called her a waste of a social security number. Until she starts contributing to the welfare of anyone, she will be nothing more. She is a waste of DNA. And I can’t stand the fact that I ever even touched an inch of her fucking body. That I disgraced the human race by laying in congress with such an emotionally mutated piece of genetic garbage. To think I had strong emotional feelings toward her. It wouldve been emotions better spent on hamster or a roach even. And what kind of parents would raise such a fucked up person(and I hate to call her a person)? I used to respect her mother. But now I don’t see any reason too. I think back and I remember how her mother acted as a parent and don’t see any respectable parenting there. So no wonder rashi turned out the way she did. Her aunts weren’t that great to look at either. She was raised by a group of bad role models that didn’t teach her shit about society. Or how to be a proper lady. I won’t allow her to pass these behaviors to my children. And on top of it all she’s a whore. … No whores get paid. She gives herself freely to anyone because she wants love again and she’s too stupid to realize she won’t get it.
Either way that’s no excuse for the waste of life she has become. No excuse for awakening this rage inside me that shouldve lied dormant. No excuse. And now she’s felt a bit of my wrath and she will feel more. She’s awakened it and destroyed all inhibitions I have had about showing it to her. So fuck her. J is gone as far as she is concerned.

Patriotic in soul only

April 3, 2010

For some reason I find my belief in a corrupt system unwavering. It’s not that I believe it is true and incorruptible but that i believe in what it stands for in principle. It’s my idealism really.
Take the judicial system. I know the reality of what is fair and unfair. But I truly believe in the innocent before proven guilty philosophy. With every huge court case, regardless of evidence whenever someone asked me if I think the suspect had done it I always say “I believe they did not”. I could say it isn’t my place to judge but fuck that. When Michael Jackson was last at court I defended his innocence to my friends. Not because he is a legend or an icon or my personal love for what he has become but because he had not been proven guilty. And I wholeheartedly believe a person should not have to lift a finger to prove their innocence.
With government I know of the insurmountable corruption but the thing that truly makes me believe in president Obama is that he presents himself as the embodiment of that truly good politician. I know he has faults. But he really seems to be for the people and I want to believe that. This country was founded on ideology and we need people like that that can bring those ideals to reality.
yes I am one of those that believes my vote counts. I do know statistically it does not. But the idea of it counting is imperitive. Without the idea then masses of people would realize their one vote does not statistically count and they wouldn’t vote. Which would mean their one vote statistically DOES count. Turning the IDEA into reality. A meme actually, but that’s a whole ‘nother blog.

Point is, what some call naivite some call righteousness. But I call it patriotic ideals. I know the truth but continue to believe what I do not because I choose to ignore the truth or because I want to believe in something better, but because I believe the truth and the ideals can and do coexist. One is just more prevelant than the other.

Hidden amongst myself

April 3, 2010

I was going to title this “hidden amongst ourselves” but I didn’t wanna be so existencial when truth is, as much as this may apply to many others, I’m really just talking about me. So Here we go. Oops, here I go…

I’ve realized often times, well more often than not, I’m hiding my true thoughts and emotions from other people. Wether that be my opinion or feelings about someone or what they have done. Take for example. Someone I know does things sometimes that I completely disagree with. Sometimes I say something small sometimes nothing at all. But it’s nothing close to what I feel.
I do this because I don’t want anyone to know how I feel. Not completely. I feel if I’m to easily read than. I’m too open, too vulnerable. There’s nothing to run behind if I need to defend myself. No more defenses. So I have this wall that protects. In fact now that I think about it I do want someone to know how I really feel. I dunno who, but if I didn’t I wouldn’t post a public blog about it.

I wish anonimity could be more personal.

Things would be a little easier if that were true. But since I do this hiding I’ve realized I also hide from myself. Hense this blog. This blog is a substitute for what I really want to write. Because I guess I’m avoiding actually typing it out. I know the thoughts I wanna write. But if I write them then…well there wouldn’t be anyway for me to put them back again.

But there’s one thing I just realized. One reason why, tonight anyway, i hate graveyard.

I don’t want to be alone with my thoughts and feelings. Right now I don’t like them.

The best of me

October 28, 2009

Sometimes I just let it get the best of me. Anger. I have gotten physically violent because of this. It’s not something that I’m proud of though. I have yelled, I have hollered, I have said some of the most horrible things I can imagine because of this. But by no means am I proud of these facts.
I used to have very little self control as a child. But as time went on, in my teens I developed a control that I rarely seen among people. I was proud of myself. I rarely got angry. I would say “if it’s not gonna affect my life more than 5 minutes from now why get angry?”. It was a simple, beautiful yet effective philosophy. It worked. I wasn’t masking my anger or fooling myself. I just didn’t get angry.
there was one person in this world that could always make me angrier than anything. Donald Ray jones jr. My brother. The tiniest shit he would do could do it to me. My philosophy had one exception and it was him. When I was younger he made me so mad I chased him with a knife. And for years after I cursed that night for my flaw. Not that I tried to kill him but that I wasn’t fast enough. Funny right? I even thought about shooting him through the bedroom window with a crossbow. Lmao. Now that’s hilarious. Not a gun. That Thought never crossed my mind. But then I found my little island of inner tranquility and those thoughts were washed away. But he could still irk the hell out of me. Even to this day. But we eventually moved apart and started acting like brothers. Seems like all we needed was distance and the anger wouldn’t get the best of me.
then one day my friend. My second brother. Set me up with a girl. “just a booty call” I said. And it was. I seen her every few months or so and it was good. I shoulda learned when she would pull stupid shit and throw fits this bitch is no good. Well I did. She sent me a letter saying she loved me and I told her no you don’t and to forget about me. But a few months down the line I let my dick get the best of me had to hook up again. She ended up pregnant. FUCK. And that moment my life spiraled toward a series of events that I could not control with the angriest and most negative person ever. A person that could make me angrier than I have ever been.
but I stowed it all away. I had a family to worry about now and family was more important than a dumb bitches attitude. So I stayed. Becoming more angry as the years went on. But I strived for something better. My desire for a family got the best of me at a time when I shouldve realized what was best. Then after a time it wasn’t my desire for a family, but my fear of losing my children that got the best of me. She manipulated me with the kids until she pushed me too far.
She awoken this … Entity … Inside myself that I have yet to cage. An emotional embodiment of all I resist and defy. It almost exploded out of me. The fear of her taking my children turned to rage and malice. It didn’t make me back down anymore. It made me want to hurt her. But I held back. I didn’t touch her that night. But she had seen what she had done and she was scared. Crying scared. Of me. She cowered in a corner and slept there. Leaving me alone. Then tried to buy things and do things to me to be nice. I didn’t want a slave though so it didn’t last. And she continued to poke and prod at the thing she had enthralled inside me. It has become a part of me that has proven difficult of not impossible to excercise yet I despise the imprint it has left of my soul. That she has left on my soul. I feel as if my spirit has been branded by hate amd regardless of how much I defy it it’s always right there looking over my shoulder. It’s a constant struggle to not act upon it. I am winning that struggle but whenever she enters my World my barriers weaken. My defenses fall. The entity smiles and slowly comes forth and pushes me into a closet only to wear my skin and make me into something I’m not…or something I don’t want to be. The thing gets the best of me and there’s nothing I can do. I feel trapped. I talk on the phone or she comes over. If she comes over I talk to her or she yells and bangs and cops get called but who cares the problem is that it’ll wake the kids up and they’ll come out and be exposed to it. I have to protect them though. So I deal with the phone conversation and let the beast come out. I sacrifice my soul and sanity as a means to be the sentinel my children need.
And it’s eating at me. It’s getting the best of me.

And I wonder…how long do I have until I can’t get the best of me back.

The maelstrom inside me

August 21, 2009

Today seems so distant. Like I’m not really here. I dunno why. I feel like I’m lacking support. Like there’s nowhere for me to go. No one for me to go to. I have my dad. My good friends. But right now I’m cut off from them. Can’t reach them. And even if I could, I don’t think I’d reach out. So now I write this out to you. To nobody. Not anyone in particular anyway.
I feel the responsibility of the world crashing down upon my shoulders and I don’t want it. It’s too hard to be strong. But I’ve been strong for years out of both necessity and fear.
It’s easy to give into it and let things take their course into oblivion. To runaway and not look back. To give up and let this responsiblity fall on someone else and just not worry about it…or so it seems. For me that’s one of the hardest things I could ever do. So hard infact that I wasn’t able to do it even when I tried. Maybe it’s because I vowed never to go that route, or maybe, once again, it’s because of fear.
Then again i can’t do it. I have two little girls that I love more than anything. And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep them safe. I will do anything to prevent them from growing up to be like their mother. Angry, full of rage, bitter, in denial of the reality of her actions, never to blame, but most of all she’s unhappy. And I WILL not let them be unhappy. I refuse. Those girls are so pretty, so beautiful, so smart, and so gifted in so many ways, hatred, anger, and unhappiness do not deserve to inhabit the same world as them. But they do. It lives in their mothers heart.
It’s so hard to keep up this illusion of strength. I feel like I can’t do it anymore, but I’m forced to stay strong. It sounds like an oxymoron almost, but I feel like a slave to strength and responsibilty. I don’t want it! I want to hide in a dark recess away from reality and sleep. But I can’t. I have to be “strong”. I wanna just let it all go: money problems, relationship problems, responsibility…But I can’t. I have to keep living this life, this lie. Of strength and of confidance and control. I want to be in the backseat and let it all drive me for once.
This monster bitch has bought out the worst in me, and through trial and adversity in my struggle to rise above her she has inspired the best of me to come out. With every fiber of my being, every bone in my body, I feel a growing and insurmountable hatred welling up and coming to a boil. For the kids sake, I don’t wish anything bad to happen to her, BUT ITS HARD AS FUCK NOT TO THINK ABOUT IT. I would never take our kids away from her permanently. But she won’t hardly see them ’till she gets help. I can’t stand her, and even though i would never let my kids know of my disdain, my utter contempt and loathing for her, i can’t think of another emotion that suits how I feel about her better than HATE. I guess that means she wins in the end…

But like I said, I can’t.

Patriotic words from the president

July 5, 2009

Times like these solidify my patriotism. And words like these make me proud to be an American. These are words I don’t want to forget, so I post it here:

“Two hundred and thirty-three years ago, our nation was born when a courageous group of patriots pledged their lives, fortunes, and sacred honor to the proposition that all of us were created equal.

Our country began as a unique experiment in liberty — a bold, evolving quest to achieve a more perfect union. And in every generation, another courageous group of patriots has taken us one step closer to fully realizing the dream our founders enshrined on that great day.

Today, all Americans have a hard-fought birthright to a freedom which enables each of us, no matter our views or background, to help set our nation’s course.

America’s greatness has always depended on her citizens embracing that freedom — and fulfilling the duty that comes with it. As free people, we must each take the challenges and opportunities that face this nation as our own. As long as some Americans still must struggle, none of us can be fully content. And as America comes ever closer to achieving the perfect Union our founders dreamed, that triumph — that pride — belongs to all of us.

So today is a day to reflect on our independence, and the sacrifice of our troops standing in harm’s way to preserve and protect it. It is a day to celebrate all that America is. And today is a time to aspire toward all we can still become.

With very best wishes, President Barack Obama July 4th, 2009”

I loved this. Good job Prez!

The effects of a true icon on an american individual

June 30, 2009

this wont be another cliche post about michael jackson but it was definitely spured by his death. ive noticed many different reactions to his death. but the most profound has just come to me a few minutes ago. my brother, my comrade, my friend has been unexpectedly wracked by the death of this icon. this is a man. a regular guy, yes twisted by fame, and being in the limelight, but a man. but this man’s death has gotten to my friend in a way that i didnt expect. in a way that even he didnt expect. so i had an enlightening moment. i thought about why this man has effected so many people. hes an entertainer. a damn good one. billions of fans. but an entertainer. many entertainers have become parts of peoples lives and when they die people mourn. but with MJ people have become devestated! some cry some just mourn. some shut down. some break down and cant function at all. so the point of this is “WHY?” why do these people effect the individual in such ways?

My theory…he was us. MJ was something to everyone that represented what they wanted from themselves. also he was a part of our lives. a huge part for most. and for some individuals him dying was a collapse of certainty. a loss of part of our childhood and even a loss of our childhood in general.

its an irreperable and irreplaceable part of ourselves that is gone forever. something we may never get back. something akin to innocence.

this wasnt about michael jackson…this was about about what happens when we lose a piece of ourselves that we can never get back.