Desperate
WRITTEN AFTER THE REST OF THIS BLOG: I wish "anonymous" would die. I really do. If you're going to comment on my blog, at least leave your name. This has driven me nuts for the last three years that I have had this blog. What good is advice from someone who can't come forward and tell you who they are?
As far as the "anonymous" comment left on my last blog, well, I am glad you are so wise as to remind me that the Bible says I should reconcile. But hey, this is parents we're talking about. It doesn't work that way. I suspect your parents have hurt you, too... all parents do. And do you confront them on it? No, you don't. Because they're your parents, and you know you've hurt them enough in life, and don't want to cause them any more greif. Especially when your sister is going psychotic and doing all the wrong things and tearing your family apart. Why? Because it's her life, and if she wants to tramply everyone that cares about her just to prove that she can, then BY ALL FREAKIN' MEANS, let her.
That answer your question? Hope so, and next time, please leave your name, so that I am less likely to disregard what you say, or get mad at you. If you were someone I actually knew, I could picture you in my head, and calm down my "you don't even know me" response.
Now here comes the REAL text of this really depressing blog entry.
Yeah, kinda in desperation.
Just, life is weighing down. The permanence of temporal incongruities is frustrating.
By that, I mean that I am finally learning that I will never be able to rely on anything. Ever.
My relationship with God is totally on the rocks. And I can't really talk to anyone about it. Because the people I trust.. my 'peers'... turn their backs the minute I express my frustration. I can't even begin to conceive of the level of frustration God has for me right now.
I turn my back on Him over and over and over and over and over. And I tell Him I'm sorry every time. And I am sorry. But not exactly. I am sorry that I hurt Him, but that's about it.
I am not sorry that I sin. Shoot, it's fun. It feels good. I like getting away with things I :shouldn't" do. I do. I like it. It makes me feel powerful, like I am finally in control.
But the sad truth is that I am NOT in control. It is controlling me. I can't get away from it. Every time I say, "Okay, Lord, THIS TIME I am really not going to rebel and hurt You again..." I fail miserably. I used to ask for His help. But then I realized that asking God for help, only to slap Him in the face, is worse than not askign for His help at all. Taunting God cannot be a good thing.
And if this manifestation was, itself, the only problem, it would be oh-so-much-easier. But it's not... it's merely a manifestation of a much larger problem. One that I cannot cope with. I am at the end of the rope. Just don't know what to do. I mean... gosh, can't even decide how I feel about it.
I am such a liar. But maybe I'm not... frick. Just fricking frick.
Then there's the rest of life.
Money. Always an issue. It's funny. No one seems to think that I am doing the right thing with my money. Nobody. Except my grandparents, and they're fading fast. Faster than I think I realize or want to acknowledge.
One roommate treats me like I am a flippant spender, makes it sound like I am leading a life of sin because I am willing to spend 40 cents extra on name-brand saran-wrap, just to have the razor blade on the side of the box where it's useful. Granted, this IS the same roommate that took his box of kleenex away as soon as I provided another one for us to all 'share'. So much for sharing. Meanwhile, this roommate has spent more on alcoholic beverages in the last two months than I have in the entire last YEAR.
Oh, whabam, I just went there.
It's all about priorities, isn't it? It's okay to spend money on what's important to oneself, but other people's expenditures are frivolous. I see how it works.
Yet there's a coworker who wants me to do something very specific with my money. A specific type of investment. And I just won't do it. Sorry, don't think it's a good idea.
Then there's this other person that acts like I am a total tightwad. In fact, most of the rest of my coworkers just cannot understand why I have such a 'low' standard of living on such a 'great' paycheck. What I don't understand is how they support a wife and two kids on a paycheck the size of mine.
I am so tired of hearing other people say what I should do. I just want to scream, "LEAVE ME THE STINK ALONE." You know what? I can make some of these decisions on my own.
Which brings me to work. WHAT am I doing there? Is it long-term? No one really seems to respect my job. Well, my family knows I am happy, which is good. Benjamin's parents are impressed a little, which boosts my confidence. But my 'friends' (why do I keep having to put that word in quotes???) just treat me like the mechanic that couldn't... and doesn't.
Which brings me to the bigger question that I have been asking myself for the last two days:
When did I start giving up on big dreams?
I know when. A long, long time ago.
When I look back on the careers I wanted to have as a kid (and ignore the really weird ones that my misdirected four-year-old-self named), I see a bunch of thrown away ideas.
And I have to ask myself if I am fulfilling my potential. I realize that this question follows all too closely in the humanistic form of thought for most of "us" conservative Christians, but bear with me, oh nonexistent reader. (Nonexistent, unless you're Tank, in which case, sorry you are reading this, you may want to close your browser now)
But seriously. I wanted, at several points, to be a pilot. An airline pilot. I wanted that, and planned it, and anticipated it.
So when did I decide not to?
This whole "I probably can't get my medical" thing is an excuse for me not to try. It may be true, but it may not be.
But the thing is, it's too late to be an airline pilot, and I am not sure I want to anymore anyway.
When and why did I settle for less than I wanted?
Not that my job isn't important... but why does that statement always seem followed with one that goes something like, "Randy, even being a janitor is important if it's where God wants you."?????
So yeah, don't know what's up with "career." I like my job, but don't see myself retiring as a Swissport mechanic. Especially if JAL tanks.
I'm not being a good friend to anyone. Somehow I convinced myself that I don't have time, or some bullcrap like that.
And, in other news, how DID I get SO FAT this winter? I work outside, and do quite a bit of husslin' around those danged airplanes all day long. It's not as though I can't name my unhelathy habits, I just don't understand how I let things get so out of hand.
I could really use a run around the loop on campus at Letu. But, sadly, I have left that place in my dust. Ironically, since all I am doing is spinning wheels and not going anywhere, what's behind me isn't really that far behind.
Frick.
In short, I have lost who I am. I arrived at this conclusion just yesterday. I am drained of all I was, and am now, officially, a lump of American, living life day-to-day, going to work, coming home, and repeating. With nothing of consequence ever occurring. My friendships are losing life, my walk with God has turned into a park bench, and I haven't exercised my brain in two years or more.
Yeah, this blog is all about me. I just wrote all about me. But this is my blog, and if I can't write about me on my blog without feeling guilty, then I have even less backbone than I previously thought.
As far as the "anonymous" comment left on my last blog, well, I am glad you are so wise as to remind me that the Bible says I should reconcile. But hey, this is parents we're talking about. It doesn't work that way. I suspect your parents have hurt you, too... all parents do. And do you confront them on it? No, you don't. Because they're your parents, and you know you've hurt them enough in life, and don't want to cause them any more greif. Especially when your sister is going psychotic and doing all the wrong things and tearing your family apart. Why? Because it's her life, and if she wants to tramply everyone that cares about her just to prove that she can, then BY ALL FREAKIN' MEANS, let her.
That answer your question? Hope so, and next time, please leave your name, so that I am less likely to disregard what you say, or get mad at you. If you were someone I actually knew, I could picture you in my head, and calm down my "you don't even know me" response.
Now here comes the REAL text of this really depressing blog entry.
Yeah, kinda in desperation.
Just, life is weighing down. The permanence of temporal incongruities is frustrating.
By that, I mean that I am finally learning that I will never be able to rely on anything. Ever.
My relationship with God is totally on the rocks. And I can't really talk to anyone about it. Because the people I trust.. my 'peers'... turn their backs the minute I express my frustration. I can't even begin to conceive of the level of frustration God has for me right now.
I turn my back on Him over and over and over and over and over. And I tell Him I'm sorry every time. And I am sorry. But not exactly. I am sorry that I hurt Him, but that's about it.
I am not sorry that I sin. Shoot, it's fun. It feels good. I like getting away with things I :shouldn't" do. I do. I like it. It makes me feel powerful, like I am finally in control.
But the sad truth is that I am NOT in control. It is controlling me. I can't get away from it. Every time I say, "Okay, Lord, THIS TIME I am really not going to rebel and hurt You again..." I fail miserably. I used to ask for His help. But then I realized that asking God for help, only to slap Him in the face, is worse than not askign for His help at all. Taunting God cannot be a good thing.
And if this manifestation was, itself, the only problem, it would be oh-so-much-easier. But it's not... it's merely a manifestation of a much larger problem. One that I cannot cope with. I am at the end of the rope. Just don't know what to do. I mean... gosh, can't even decide how I feel about it.
I am such a liar. But maybe I'm not... frick. Just fricking frick.
Then there's the rest of life.
Money. Always an issue. It's funny. No one seems to think that I am doing the right thing with my money. Nobody. Except my grandparents, and they're fading fast. Faster than I think I realize or want to acknowledge.
One roommate treats me like I am a flippant spender, makes it sound like I am leading a life of sin because I am willing to spend 40 cents extra on name-brand saran-wrap, just to have the razor blade on the side of the box where it's useful. Granted, this IS the same roommate that took his box of kleenex away as soon as I provided another one for us to all 'share'. So much for sharing. Meanwhile, this roommate has spent more on alcoholic beverages in the last two months than I have in the entire last YEAR.
Oh, whabam, I just went there.
It's all about priorities, isn't it? It's okay to spend money on what's important to oneself, but other people's expenditures are frivolous. I see how it works.
Yet there's a coworker who wants me to do something very specific with my money. A specific type of investment. And I just won't do it. Sorry, don't think it's a good idea.
Then there's this other person that acts like I am a total tightwad. In fact, most of the rest of my coworkers just cannot understand why I have such a 'low' standard of living on such a 'great' paycheck. What I don't understand is how they support a wife and two kids on a paycheck the size of mine.
I am so tired of hearing other people say what I should do. I just want to scream, "LEAVE ME THE STINK ALONE." You know what? I can make some of these decisions on my own.
Which brings me to work. WHAT am I doing there? Is it long-term? No one really seems to respect my job. Well, my family knows I am happy, which is good. Benjamin's parents are impressed a little, which boosts my confidence. But my 'friends' (why do I keep having to put that word in quotes???) just treat me like the mechanic that couldn't... and doesn't.
Which brings me to the bigger question that I have been asking myself for the last two days:
When did I start giving up on big dreams?
I know when. A long, long time ago.
When I look back on the careers I wanted to have as a kid (and ignore the really weird ones that my misdirected four-year-old-self named), I see a bunch of thrown away ideas.
And I have to ask myself if I am fulfilling my potential. I realize that this question follows all too closely in the humanistic form of thought for most of "us" conservative Christians, but bear with me, oh nonexistent reader. (Nonexistent, unless you're Tank, in which case, sorry you are reading this, you may want to close your browser now)
But seriously. I wanted, at several points, to be a pilot. An airline pilot. I wanted that, and planned it, and anticipated it.
So when did I decide not to?
This whole "I probably can't get my medical" thing is an excuse for me not to try. It may be true, but it may not be.
But the thing is, it's too late to be an airline pilot, and I am not sure I want to anymore anyway.
When and why did I settle for less than I wanted?
Not that my job isn't important... but why does that statement always seem followed with one that goes something like, "Randy, even being a janitor is important if it's where God wants you."?????
So yeah, don't know what's up with "career." I like my job, but don't see myself retiring as a Swissport mechanic. Especially if JAL tanks.
I'm not being a good friend to anyone. Somehow I convinced myself that I don't have time, or some bullcrap like that.
And, in other news, how DID I get SO FAT this winter? I work outside, and do quite a bit of husslin' around those danged airplanes all day long. It's not as though I can't name my unhelathy habits, I just don't understand how I let things get so out of hand.
I could really use a run around the loop on campus at Letu. But, sadly, I have left that place in my dust. Ironically, since all I am doing is spinning wheels and not going anywhere, what's behind me isn't really that far behind.
Frick.
In short, I have lost who I am. I arrived at this conclusion just yesterday. I am drained of all I was, and am now, officially, a lump of American, living life day-to-day, going to work, coming home, and repeating. With nothing of consequence ever occurring. My friendships are losing life, my walk with God has turned into a park bench, and I haven't exercised my brain in two years or more.
Yeah, this blog is all about me. I just wrote all about me. But this is my blog, and if I can't write about me on my blog without feeling guilty, then I have even less backbone than I previously thought.
posted by Elmo at 10:10 PM
2 Comments:
Hmm, I met a janitor. Speaking of jobs that...you know, those jobs. Well, I met a janitor about 2 weeks ago. Ok, so he was really a hitch hiker that I picked up, and he said he does janitorial work. Dan was his name. I was on my way to church. I didn't ask him to come with me. I didn't go out of my way to take him any further than I was already going. Hmmm. but I met a janitor at a high school when i was a fishy at LU. He let me use the school phone when my car broke down. Wow, before I had a cell phone. Centuries ago. If you're looking for a point in all this news of the janitors in my life, you're not going to find one. I went back to look for that janitor in Emory who let me use the phone. He died. The end.
Parents. They freely choose to perform a sex act that makes another human life, and I'm supposed to feel sorry for them when their children cause them grief?? Not likely. But what it comes down to is Jesus (as do all things). Yes, he chose to suffer and die and all that, but you know what the craziest part is? He chose to live...to be born. And he knew before that choice just how much suffering there would be. I wouldn't have chosen to be born. Nope. But what if I had existed before conception, and God walked up to me and say, "Hey, I want you to be born on earth and stuff. Will you do it?" Well, if I didn't I would be out of God's will, and I would die. So sort of I have to do it. Is there really free will? Because I really don't think I chose to be here.
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