Just a Man

Gud07

Here’s the beginning of a man.  The one I call me.

I arrived on this planet in the form of a human baby.  The body which Mother Earth lent me was male.  I was born a Caucasian male in a large country located in the northern part of North America.

Since my body was male, I was expected to grow up to become a man.  This might sound obvious and simple but it was one of the biggest challenges I had to face in this life.

How do you BECOME a man?  Was I not a young man already?  Why did my father shout at me?  Why did he keep hitting me?  Why did he try so hard to make a man out of me?  Was I not destined to become one automatically?  I did not understand what he was trying to do.  I thought there was something wrong with me.  He gave me the impression that I was failing and that I might turn into a girl if I was not careful.

Does it even make sense?  Let me try to remember…

I’m starting to shake as I think about this.  I feel a pressure inside my chest.  My hands, my arms are trembling as I try to type and concentrate on what I intend to write.

“He gave me the impression that I was failing and that I might turn into a girl if I was not careful.”  This sentence brings back a profound fear that is probably still in me.  I wonder if girls/women can relate to this.  It sounds ridiculous.  A boy cannot transform into a girl if he’s not careful.

It took me years before I began to understand what was going on.  But in the beginning, I was really confused about this male thing.  All I could perceive, with my child’s eyes, was that my father hated me.  I did not know why he hated me.

The memories are coming back now.  He hated it when I cried.  He would kick me and yell at me to stop crying.  But the more he hit me, the more I cried.  I tried to seal my lips by holding my mouth shut so that no sound would escape, but then it would come out of my nose and my eyes until everything went blurry.

Eventually I learned how to hold back my tears, how to muffle my voice and how to stay as far from him as possible.  I don’t even remember him ever hugging me.  I thought he was a man.  I knew that I didn’t want to become like him.  So who or what was I to become?  This is probably when I started to dissociate from mankind.

I knew that I was a man.  I also knew that I was not like the men I knew.  There was not one adult man with whom I could identify.  And I knew that I was not a girl.  So what was I?  An alien man?

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“Nobody Loves Me”

Angel Guardian

– It’s not a fact, it’s a belief.

What did you say?

– This phrase that you repeat in your mind, it’s not a fact, it’s a belief.

Well, I don’t feel loved.

– A feeling is not a fact either.

So why do I have this feeling?

– The feeling comes from the belief.

And where does this belief come from?

– You fabricate your beliefs.

Based on what?

– Based on your interpretations.

If someone punches me in the face, how am I supposed to interpret it?

– How many times have someone punched you in the face, Daemon?

Never.

– Give me a concrete example.  At this moment, is someone doing something to harm you?

Right now? . . .  Everyone is ignoring me.

– How do you know that?

I’m not getting any calls.  I’m not receiving any messages.

– Maybe they are sleeping.  Maybe they are busy, trying to survive.  Maybe they are dreaming of you right now.  You don’t know.

You’re right.  I don’t know.

– You base your feelings on your interpretation of non-occurring events.  Then you choose to believe that your feelings are telling you the truth about the situation.  Then you feel even worse.  You keep doing this and become trapped in this depressing cycle.  Stop it, idiot!

Hey, you just called me an idiot!  You’re hurting my feelings!

– I said that because I love you.  See, you can take any insult and turn it into something positive.  You can change your interpretations and metamorphose your beliefs.

I don’t believe you.

– Liar.  You do.

Come here.  Give me a hug.

Absolutely Fabulous

Fabulous

I’m a lucky man.  The neighbor envies me.  I see it in his eyes.  He wants her.  He wants my wife.  Because she’s absolutely fabulous.

My best friend is not my wife.  My best friend is the dictionary.  So, come here pal, I need you!  Open up.  Please show me.  I want to see the word Fabulous.  I need to know who I’m married to.

Fabulous:

  1. Of or relating to fable, myth or legend.
  2. Characteristic of fables; marvelous, extraordinary, incredible.
  3. Fictional or not believable; made up.
  4. Known for telling fables or falsehoods; unreliable.
  5. Very good; outstanding, wonderful.
  6. Gay or pertaining to gay people.
  7. Camp, effeminate.
  8. Fashionable, glamorous

Yep, she’s all of these things, except number 6.  She keeps saying that she’s not gay, that she loves men.  But then she’s always hanging out with her fabulous female friends.  And she treats me like crap.

Number 5 contradicts numbers 3 and 4.  How can an unbelievable, fake and unreliable person be good?  She appears wonderful, that’s for sure.

Everyone loves her.  Well that’s what she tells me.  So it must be true.  *wink*

I wonder how long she can keep up this show?

Speaking of which…  there used to be a television sitcom by this title.  I think this is where the photo comes from.  I don’t know, I just used Google Images and typed the word fabulous and this one came up.  I thought it looked a lot like my wife.

Being absolutely fabulous is not such a bad thing.  It’s better than being an asshole who posts degrading comments about his wife on WordPress.

But I use my blog to make myself feel better.  And for some reason, I feel better now that I have expressed myself.  Isn’t blogging absolutely fabulous?

Short-lived Existence

tracks

I spent a good part of my life thinking that I would die soon.

Why?  Where did this idea come from?

Let’s take a walk down memory lane.

My father.  He would often speak about the “end of the world.”  He would read on the subject and leave his books lying around the house.  I remember one book in particular: The Vision by David Wilkerson.

Wilkerson was an American Christian evangelist.  I think I was 13 years old when I read his book The Vision.  My father was a firm believer that the Second Coming of Christ was going to happen soon and that we should therefore prepare ourselves for the afterlife and not bother making long-term plans to attain temporal success in the material world.

I was a naive, impressionable boy.  My dad’s way of thinking had a profound impact on my thinking.  I expected the end of the world to happen any day.  I thought more about my death than about my life.  I wonder how normal this was — if it was a good thing or a bad thing as I was growing up.

I know one thing.  It greatly affected my mindset.

I watched my peers as I grew up and could not understand why they were so preoccupied with the things of this world: school, money, career, prestige.  I was concerned with something quite different.  My father used to say: “The most important thing in life is your relationship with God.”  I believed him.

Today I wonder.  What am I trying to prove with my blog?  That I have a relationship with God?  Am I just trying to impress my father?  Am I trying to convince myself and others that this life is unimportant?  Maybe this life is more valuable than I think.

My father died in 2004.  The end of the world did not happen during “this generation,” as he used to say.  He was quite certain that he would live to see the Second Coming of Christ.  He didn’t.  Or maybe he did, on some other level of consciousness.  I don’t know.

Living as though the end is near…  does it push me to live fully or does it depress me?  I think it does both.  It makes me ponder, for one thing.  It makes me turn inward.  It makes me introspect.  It turns me into an introvert.  It makes me think that perhaps the end of Daemon will never come…  or that it came already.

Within My Cocoon

Nymphalidae

Something weird happens when I go inside my cocoon.  It’s like I become two.  My double appears.  But he doesn’t appear physically.  His presence appears.  I become aware of myself as if myself was another person.  So “I” become aware of “myself.”

You see?  We are two:  I and myself.

I become aware of myself when inside the cocoon.  Very bizarre.  And then what happens next?  “I” talk to “myself.”  Or is it myself who talks to I?  Is there even a difference between myself and I?  The two seem to be the same and they are interchangeable.

It’s as if I had a twin.  But this only happens inside the cocoon.  When you look at the cocoon from the outside, there is only one person, not two.  Why is it like this?

I don’t know about you, but it seems to me that this is how the metamorphosis happens.  The dialogue that goes on between myself and I provokes a change!  A change of Self, which is a change of awareness or consciousness.  A growth.  A metaphysical growth.

This might sound very complicated and esoteric but it’s really quite simple.

Metaphysical simply means immaterial, supersensual, not physical (or more properly, “beyond” that which is physical).

Supersensual means beyond the range of what is perceptible by the senses; not belonging to the experienceable physical world.  My dictionary gives a sentence using the word supersensual, which is:  Heaven is a supersensual realm.

Really?  Heaven is a supersensual realm?  Ok, but then so is hell.

So what am I saying?  Where am I going with this train of thought?

Let’s recap.

When my attention turns within, inside my cocoon, my invisible twin appears.  Then we talk to each other, but from the outside it appears that I am talking to myself (crazy person).  The others do not know that I am talking to my double.  The dialogue that goes on between me and my double, especially when written, puts things into place, like building blocks.  This process produces a metaphysical change or a metamorphosis.  It’s the process of building my non-physical reality which we sometimes call heaven or hell.

This thing I do is really important because it determines whether my present and future life will be joyous or desperate, painless or painful, happy or unhappy.

So here’s my conclusion.  Heaven and hell are not rewards or punishments given by some exterior God, they are the result of what I have built for myself while I was inside my cocoon.

Alienated

Unsociability3

This is not going to be a feel-good post.  I warn you.  I feel disgusted this morning and this is my attempt at getting rid of it: by dumping it on my readers.

Yeah, I can be cruel sometimes but I gave you advanced notice (see previous paragraph), so if you’re still reading it’s because you don’t mind or you’re curious or just bored.

I went to bed disgusted and woke up feeling the same way.  No, this time it’s not because of my balance disorder, it’s something else.  My relationships disgust me.  The people I am closest to, three of them especially, members of my family.

I’m attempting to distance myself from my family but I’m not there yet.  Family members are not things you can return for a refund.  You’re born with them and they stick to you for life, if not physically then emotionally or psychologically.

The first one is the woman I am currently legally married to.  Although I have declared our marriage null years ago, we are still bound because of the children.  My disgust stems from something I realized yesterday which I will summarized in one sentence:  She uses the children to impose her dominance over me.  That is all I’m going to about that.

The second person is my sister who is almost my best friend.  She keeps breaking up and getting back together with her boyfriend.  She breaks up with him practically every week!  And then she comes crying to me, so I listen.  This causes us to become really close, and then first thing you know, she’s back with the guy and then I don’t hear from her for weeks.  In other words, she only speaks to me when she breaks up with her boyfriend.  What kind of friend is that?

The third person is my other sister who told me yesterday to “stop complaining.”  Whenever I attempt at getting closer with my family, I open up and tell them how I feel, not to gain their pity, but to establish some sort of intimacy so we can offer each other mutual support.  But yesterday all I got was a “stop complaining,” which translates into “Shut the fuck up — if you can’t say anything positive then don’t say anything.”  So much for authenticity.

Anyway, thanks for listening, I just needed to vent a bit.  I’m not feeling any better yet but maybe I will later.

 

Born to Be Alive

Gud08

Alive?

What does it mean to be alive?

Let’s look it up in the dictionary:

– – – – – – – – – –
Alive

1.  Having life; living; not dead.

2.  In a state of action; in force or in operation

3.  Unextinguished; unexpired; existent

4.  Animated; lively; brisk

5.  Having susceptibility or vulnerability

6.  Easily impressed; sensitive

7.  Having feelings, as opposed to apathy
– – – – – – – – – –

So I was born to be all these things?
How am I doing so far?

It’s important to consider because I know I was born.
I also know that I was born on this day.
Today’s my birthday.