Wandering Rant

Have you ever had the feeling one day that all you did resulted in disaster no matter what? How about questioning what you are doing and where you are going? Is it all worth the trouble in the end?

Some people would say that it is. Behind every storm is a sunny day filled with a beauty unrivalled. Hell, in fact most people think that. Some can't see that far and believe that there is no hope at all, and the rain will continue to pour.

I have no idea where I'm going with this post. I don't want to do what needs to be done, and I'm starting to think being an artist isn't the way I need to go. The creative process for me is very hard to do sometimes, especially when I'm not happy. Unless something comes around that inspires me, like when I found out what the pentagram really meant back in King Arther's day, coming up with something original will only come once in a blue moon. Even when forced to create something like for my first project in sculpture, I don't think anything I come up with would be enough. I want to push, but I know my limits. I have visions of what I want my pieces to look like, but no amount of money that I have can make that possible. Loans and debts scare me now more than ever. On top of that, I have nothing to fall back on.

I'm not prepared for life. I've admitted that several times. When I'm forced out on my own for reasons beyond my control, I know I'll have the hardest time of my life just trying to make it. I know this so well that images of my fear have made their way into my dreams.

I dreamed that I was in a run-down apartment building with a job I was over-qualified to have by educational reasons alone. The social anxiety alone, however, made me settle for the bottom of the barrel. I'm behind on my rent, but the land lord pities me. I still don't get an extension on my rent, however. I work my ass off for a paycheck that is disproportionate to the amount of work that I do. That check goes to the student loans I still have to pay off. I have no phone, because I don't want to pay that bill. I have no cable, because I don't want to pay that bill. I don't use electricity as much as I do now, because I don't want to pay that much. I only use water when I have to limiting my showers to only once a week just to make the bill cheaper. The phone calls don't stop. I'm behind on my bills. I have nothing in the bank. I'm lucky that I have a roof over my head, even though I can hear arguments from drunken couples all over. I sleep on the floor in a sleeping bag. All of the technology I once had and depended on for some kind of social existence pawned off just to be able to put a deposit. I end up homeless, and by this time Bill is elected President. He has a loving family, and a beautiful one at that. Everyone admires him. They see him as a beckon of hope. They are behind him all the way because he is hope embodied.

Another dream I had was a critique. The first one where everyone says that my work is not art. The only one that is trying to defend the piece is the teacher. He's slowly losing ground as the class starts to win him over. I can't say anything in my defense. I try, but the more I talk, the dumber I sound. In the end, I get a failing grade.

In reality, I look around and I see things as grey objects. The light bounces off of them and creates a shape and color. Snow is no longer special to me, and neither is this chair I'm sitting in. I eat because I'm hungry, and I'm fat because I'm hungry, and this upsets my mother who believes I should lose weight. A parent, whom in my head I know loves me, making me more insecure than I already am? I'm in a class with people I've learned to respect because of their skill and craft. I hold them at a higher esteem than my own. I'm already insecure in the one thing that helped me survive high school, and now I'm given an image complex thanks to popular media brainwashing a person I have no other option but to live with due to several factors, all of which are of my own.

I complain. Everyone does. Do I do anything about it? No. No one likes people that just rant. They like people of action. They look up to them and want to be like them. No one likes someone that bitches and complains and, in the end, has no real power.

So what is to happen to the weak? The ones that just complain?

Natural selection says that the weak pretty much just die and become fodder for the next strong generation. We screwed that up with religion saying you should love everyone, weak and poor. After all, they will be the one that will inherit the Earth once everyone else dies. It's God's Will, if you want to look at it in one point of view. Others believe that you'll just continue to get reincarnated until you do everything you are suppose to do as willed by the higher power.

In reality, the weak and the poor are put into soup kitchens, homeless shelters, and spare rooms at the YMCA like some kind of cattle. The only difference is they aren't slaughtered for meat so that the strong can survive. No, they are cared for and cleaned up and are even helped in an attempt to give them a better life. Some, unfortunately, fall into the stereotypical ideal of the homeless and spend money on booze because it helps them feel better about their situation until the hangover in the morning caused by the harsh slap from the hand that is reality.

Like I said, I have no idea where I'm going with this post. I'm just getting out things that I cannot talk about to people for one reason or another, mostly because they interrupt me before I can finish a thought causing me to forget. That is the only purpose of this entry, and pretty much this blog. To give me some kind of hope that someone somewhere is reading this and actually cares about me.

Right now, only one person comes to mind that I can honestly say reads this and cares about me even a little. He may call me a milkly licking, shit dick, whinny ass, son of a bitch, homo-fucker, but I know deep down he cares.

Unless I'm blind to the fact that him calling me all this means he really doesn't and I'm a stupid naive little bastard that feels love coming from a place of hate, but I doubt that is the case.