Taboo
Negatives, Routines, Pains...
I have some thoughts that repeatedly come into my head, and I am so afraid that, if I let them be said in my mind, that they will come true. That God or the Universe will bring them to pass because I can't help but think them. I have always been afraid that if I let them come and pass, and not get emotionally involved with them or their spiritual effects and consequences, that those people will feel the effects of my thoughts mentally at that moment, and that I have tarnished their image and worth forever. My heart knows the truth, but my insecurities and loss of opportunities due to changes in my life and future that were out of my control have a hold of my mind and bring these thoughts back time and time again. It is a war that I cannot seem to win. Negative thoughts about loved ones that I do not intend to ever mean, yet my mind keeps bringing them to the surface every time I see a photo or others in person. I know it is driven by my pain for them and love for them, but it seems like the side effects of such thinking and love have turned into a vicious cycle and it keeps being summoned between my eyes and them. It is becoming linked neurologically over time, and I feel trapped, like I can't do what's right or what's wrong to make a difference, and that I don't have control over these things. I cannot be present in a moment because the tumor that has become this unwanted residual thinking. Fear and life and Nature and God and other things have kept me immobilized time and again, and I find I have trouble just trying to live a normal life, as far as that goes, and aside from that--more importantly--trying to better myself and become the ultimate person that I can be. Not only for myself, but for my family. I have decided today to let the negative thinking happen, regardless of the supposed "consequences" of the Universe potentially hearing my thoughts and acting on them. Like I said, I have a strong fear that what comes into my mind will be manifested, especially in others. The interesting thing is, when I'm...I suppose it's caught between these conflicting states of emotional dominance...that it fine-tunes my reception to certain aspects of music at time. I appreciate powerful transitions in music, segments of a second, or two, or less, long, anyway. But with milking songs through repetition, eventually they lose their freshness and luster. The songs that had inspired me like diamonds in the rough eventually lose their allure and sting. And because I have milked song after song, album after album, I filled so much time that eventually the habit kind of weeded itself out to a degree. Like when you do something for years, then suddenly feel your love and desire for it wane, to nothing or strongly in that direction. I have resources to change, grow, and expand through self-help coaches like Tony Robbins and Coach Corey Wayne (a follower of Tony, who I have studied how to understand women through), and spiritual leaders like Dr. Wayne Dyer. But I have so many distractions, conscious and subconscious, supposed and actual, and a gravitation toward music, and films, and typing, and a hesitancy to sit still in one place extensively perhaps, especially when alone, that I don't feel the desire or pull to spend the time and invest my complete attention in their materials. I want to change to help my family, but I don't feel the need for myself. I feel I have a few or too many conflicts internally that keep me trapped in the center...NOT centered. They deserve more, I KNOW, and so do I, I KNOW, but I still feel so helpless, surely at times, and often when the day begins, often when the day is through.
By Ad-Libbing With The Z-Man4 years ago in Confessions
Part I: My Life's Content, and The Tragedy Within!
It’s only right and will only do my life story justice to start from the beginning. I’m warning the reader right now this story isn’t your normal read. This story is full of heartache (physical, emotional, and spiritual). My story begins before I can even remember with my mother going through what she went through all the way up to giving birth to me. I’m going to alter names, places, things, loose affiliations, as well as everything else I need to alter for the safety of those in this tale of tragic beginnings and hopeful last chapters. Let us begin.....
By Sincere DeViolencia4 years ago in Confessions
The Owl
Granny always says: “No Owls.” She tells me stories from when she was young, and when her grandma was young–alive, at least. She says every time an owl showed up to one of us, it meant someone would die. So going out looking for owls or wearing owls or painting owls meant you were wishing death upon somebody. I went out of my way to avoid any hoots or prints of the feathered creatures my whole life. She almost ripped a few things off my neck for even just resembling an owl too much. But I would never. If my grandma says owls are bad luck, then I believe her. I am one who will avoid a risk with such a dire consequence.
By Lolly Paige Lennox4 years ago in Confessions
Letters Never Sent- Vol 11
October 2003 Dear Rebecca, It's been a while since I’ve seen you and I’m not sure where to begin. Heck, I’m not even sure if I have the right address for you anymore. But I figured if it didn’t try to get this off my chest that I would go into a spiral of depression that would make the black hole of Calcutta look like a kiddie pool.
By Bill Arrowood4 years ago in Confessions
Letters Never Sent- Vol 5
February 8, 1993 Dear Veronica, Please stop calling me and just breathing on the phone. I would have simply called you to tell you this, but then I would have been stuck on the phone with you for well over an hour while you just sat on the other end, not talking and refusing to hang up. I am scared that if I hang up you will go all fatal attraction on me, I knew we should not have seen that movie at the campus cinema, (even if it was only 50¢). It's a cautionary tale that I did not heed.
By Bill Arrowood4 years ago in Confessions
I Never Knew
I never knew my life was not ordinary, grew up in a big house in one of the most popular areas of our town. My mother worked 80 hours a week, my grandmother works 40, my grandfather worked every Sunday as he was our towns preacher. I never knew my father, but I didn’t know that wasn’t normal.
By Lauren Lindsay4 years ago in Confessions
A Little Bit of Zelig
Late nights, Hollywood horror parties and porn star parties, what else can a guy ask for. It’s been, well, it’s been, it’s never been boring that’s for fuckin’ A-sure. I mean hey I might not be Johnny Wads with a pocket full of cash, but I’ve sure lived like it at times. Yep, I’ve had a bulge in my pants with forty large in my pocket. But forty stacks’ cash, cold and hard. Then, I’ve had nothing, zip, zilch, nada, living off of 50 cent Whoppers at Burger King on the Sunset strip. What was that Wimpy used to say to Popeye? “I will gladly repay you Tuesday for the price of a cheeseburger today.” Haha, yeah been there on that Hollywood Hills trip when suddenly your Armenian landlord shows his unibrow head up on your doorstep, “It’s Tuesday mother fucker bro I come for the rent”. Rent? Who’s got rent money? Been there, not fun crawling out a third story window with nothing between you and the cement sidewalk below except a window ledge covered of pigeon shit. But! I’ve also dined with mayors, mobsters, movie moguls and mad men. I’ve had Filet Mignon with Dustin Hoffman and shared an espresso with Phil Seymour Hoffman. I’ve been in front of the camera trying to make it onto the big screen and I’ve been on camera against a wall, numbers across my chest trying not to be seen. I’ve slept with absolute bat-shit crazy hot women and heart-of-gold honest hookers. I mean shit, I only bring this up to make a point that it’s been real, well, a real blast and I’m only halfway through this shit show of a life. A strange journey its been thus far.
By Stephen Conrad4 years ago in Confessions
525,600 minutes
I am here to admit that I am an over achiever. Here I am at 55 and I have to admit this and accept it. I have to admit that being an overachiever can be an addiction or co-dependent behavior. I look back over my life and I can see that overachieving is an addictive behavior to myself. I have always chosen difficult tasks and I would over work to achieve them. Here I am with many degrees, and I am proud that I achieved them, but they mean nothing but debt to me. They surely didn't bring me fulfillment. All they fill is a folder in the filing cabinet.
By Sheila L. Chingwa4 years ago in Confessions
