^^truth

Not true, but a lofty thought regardless

I realized today that there's nothing that could make me care about much of anything in the world. I'm so damn used to every path in life that I tend to already know what the end'll be plus a good dose of just general apathy towards everything spurned on by depression. I can't get excited about anything these days anymore and I'm more forcing attachment than having any real affection or emotion for anything. And I'm tiring quickly; 90% of any day is just an internal monitoring of my emotions to stay as close to stable as possible. "No, don't get too excited! You might lose control. Well, now you're just getting depressed; you'll feel like shit if you keep at that. Get interested in something to pull yourself out of the rut." And repeat; it's fun.

The thing I've always struggled with was whether I could have motivation without some sense of a goal. I've said before how most things have to be literally processed in my head rather than instinctively done like for most people. I've always halfway wondered if what had become internalized for me was emotional responses not based on social cues from people or expectations from society but, instead, a clear purpose in my head. If I could make a solid argument as to why I should do something or believe something, I responded fine. But those days I didn't have anything to do (like convince people of an argument or try to stem some sort of social ill (sexualism, sexism, etc.), I've always felt listless. Life itself couldn't make sense to me. It's weird. As if life was supposed to be some sort of puzzle with an answer.

There's a conversation I had once over IM with Laura where we were discussing Dan, to which - at the end - she remarked, "Not that you'd want to talk about this." In response and being nice, I told her, "It's fine." She thanked me and said - as she has multiple times before this - that I was too kind to her.

I laughed and said, "It's my job." She told me she was being serious, to which I immediately responded, "So am I."

There's a reason I seem to inflict trust in those I never thought I made an impact on yet and that all my friends of about 5 years trust me without hesitance. I give. As a habit, as a duty. And I don't ask in return. I almost never complain, I solve my own problems, and I forgive three times over. It's my job. While certainly not everyone (I would say a minority) has taken advantage or just simply taken and then asked for more or just taken off, I'm not surprised that people would. As you all might've garnered by now, I generally don't have a high opinion of the human race (well, in certain areas). I expect people will be crap. The difference is I still give them the benefit of the doubt. And I've known some wonderful people.

So I play watch-guard. I'm there to swoop in and fix the problem if I can. I'm there to calm you down regardless of the shit going on in my life. I'm there even if it takes 6 months or more to make sure you get back on your feet. And I'm there to offer you redemption if you need it, to tell you, "Pick up again and start over anew. No point if you don't do things right the next time."

That's my job amongst my friends and they recognize it. I don't expect any kind of award or to get the happy ending in the end. I talk people together and make sure they actually communicate they want to be together (because they'd be too shy, God knows, otherwise), I help talk out the relationship problems, I help you get over the breakup, I get you the support you need for your addiction, I make sure the wrong people don't find it out, I mend the friendship problems - it's my job. And I'm perfectly fine with that, so long as I have use. So long as I fix something, so long as I'm making a difference.

But I'm losing whatever touch I apparently had; I barely know what to say these days to help. And you're all getting old now. And you're figuring out how to take care of yourselves. Or you're just old enough that you'll survive (and learn your lesson at the end of it). I'm not particularly needed anymore. And I'm readily seeing that I'm becoming a relic. I'm that paper weight in that only moderately-entered room that you're always glad to see on your desk because you've had it so long but, were it to go missing, there'd just be a reminded twinge of sadness every time you passed by.

That's part of it. That apathy that drains the color of everything as well.

I'm not leaving anytime soon, don't worry. We're parasitic creatures, really, particularly with life. We hang on out of instinct and fear and only once we're too damn exhausted do we question letting go. But I think I'll just be floating from now on. I just want stability, damn it. Give me a stable job that I can rely on being there the next day and keep me secure for a terribly modest living that let's me keep to myself a majority of the time (only coming out when called) and I might just keep my sanity. I said at the start of my senior year to grab life by the horns, take any risk, just go and find out the consequences along the way. And I've kept that up as best I could since. But I find the fear that makes me shy has found me again. I just want expectancy again and no changes. I just want to float, without even thinking.

Oh, hey, Freshman/early Sophomore year of high school all over again.

My father stomps down the stairs today and asks, "Are you aggressively looking for a job this summer?"

The implication is simple (as it always is). He has assumed that I am not, that I haven't even bothered. Like always. Because when I usually do respond with the affirmative to something, he responds with a surprised, "Oh." Honestly, I don't understand how some people are completely unaware to body language.

Respect, for me, is huge. How you conduct yourself towards others means a lot to me. I try to be the best person, always, that I can to anyone else I meet. I consider that a duty and an obligation on my part. Ask any of my friends about my character and they'll respond positively (or, at least, I would hope that they do; I certainly aim for it).

Insult me, belittle me, I'll ignore you. I'll even probably let it slide the first couple of times. But I will not repeatedly tolerate such abuse. I don't want it, I don't need it. But, more than anything - out of the pathetically minuscule self-confidence that I have -, I have worked for my respect. Every day, every hour, every minute. I am patient, I am consistently willing to listen to others and give aid when applicable, and I consider my conduct in respect to others.

I will not be deprecated.

So, when you ask me, "Are you aggressively looking for a job this summer?" while every bit of your body language, down to your vocal inflections, tell me that - as far as you're concerned - you know the answer to this question, when you go on to tell me that I "need a little more pushing and guidance than others" to remind me that everything I do - no matter how badly I try - just doesn't live up to your expectations, do not expect me to respond.

I don't particularly appreciate being implicitly told that your love is conditional on whether I choose to tuck in a shirt or put on a belt, or whether I happen to do poorly in school despite putting in my best effort.

Because, in spite of my depression (something I seem to've inherited from either you or mom, I might just add, seeing as all of my siblings have it), I manage to make my deadlines, do at least decently well in school, and do the tasks I need to (regardless of whether you bother to notice or realize). And I might not wake up before noon on days that I don't have any responsibilities but you always did have a hard time understanding anything that did not meet your precise and arbitrary demands and expectations.

However - more than anything - when I get angry, I hold my tongue to those who were not involved or to blame. When I have a bad day, I watch what I say. I put others before myself and precisely be sure that their respect is properly regarded and treated.

Out of what little I have in this world, you will not take my dignity from me. I get - that - much.

Because I could bear the repeating for my own sake:

At all times, speak plainly and truly. Speak steadily, without wavering, and with your earnest intent in mind. At all times, be true.

I could probably be very content converting to Judaism, I realized today. Not that I plan to or am even likely to do so. But it was a kinda odd realization. I'm rarely ever so fully and entirely sure of anything in life.

Some might remember, I wrote a post a while back on why I love my hometown (http://thirst2.xanga.com/730340644/item/). In that post, I mention this park. As my brother and I were bike riding over to the mall to get job applications, we happen to pass through there. While we stop to rest, I start (I forget for what reason or what triggered it) going on about how perfect the area is at night. And, of course, I'm going and going; "With the stars above. And then you've got the forest to the right and the lake to the left. And the air just smells amazing! And there's the moon. And across the lake the traffic just kinda hums in the background as the headlights go past -"

"Alright, so let's go," he responds. "Later tonight."

This is why I love him. Most people would have just let me rant or go on about this moment I'd really like to share with them because it was just so amazing for me so I want them to know what it's like. Or changed the subject as quickly as they could. He actually took me up on it.

I've often said I'm at least decent at reading people. That said, I've often felt short when trying to do so with my brother. In some ways I've always felt drastically close to my siblings. I've certainly always been intensely fond of them (bizarrely, I just noticed I don't talk about them much here; in person, I'd probably talk your ear off for an hour alone should you ask about them). And, all that said, I sometimes feel very distant from my brother.

He can be very distant, at times. I'm somewhat familiar with that, being shy myself. But he has this way of being very intensely different, so as to almost be threating (which, admittedly, doesn't mean I don't do the same; I've had a decent amount of people tell me in the past that they had the strongest feeling that I didn't like them before a point, which doesn't even begin make sense, if you know me).

I guess I always had the feeling that he liked me, well enough, but kinda looked down on me, thought me stupid in some capacities (admittedly, the boy does have some hubris, by my limited reckoning, but nothing that I couldn't see him ironing out over time; he has the mindset to continually better himself, something others could do well to adopt). In short, I'd've liked to get to know him better. It's not often I'm left literally wondering how the gears are turning in someone's head or how they even remotely approach things.

Well, luck behold, we wound up discussing things a night or two ago. Wasn't in anyway played, just talking – jumping from topic to topic –, and we happened to start discussing habits of ours.

Turns out we have a lot in common in that area. For example, we both seemed to've learned social interaction from scratch (an exhausting affair, but allows you to be conscious of every movement you make and why you make it – as well as being able to read others well). Turns out we both have depression, it seems; part of me wants to be happy because I relate to people with depression more, they tend to be more interesting, and I feel they understand me better (a topic to go over in another post); and, like he said, it's useful. Yet he's still got Hell ahead of him for it.

So it was just nice, getting to know him better like that. I enjoy talking to him, not just because we tend to agree on a lot (though, admittedly, that's part of it), but also because he pushes me at times (particularly when I don't have an answer). I can usually count on him to be someone to bounce ideas against, to test them out and to see whether they weather against criticism. I guess you could say I trust quite heavily his reasoning and analyzing side.

While I know my depression and know that it's not likely going to allow his presence be enough to establish a lasting salve to life, I tend to find that I thoroughly enjoy our times together – for both the way our personalities compliment each other and entirely because of who he is as a person. And for someone like myself seemingly so often detached from emotion, often having to logically piece why I should feel something rather than naturally doing so instinctively – well, that's a big deal.

Love always,

Because I'll just create noise and strife rather than anything useful if I post this on Facebook…

I don't know what I love more about this day: the number of comments about Osama through the Islamic religion or the fact that aparently the best response to the death of a man who terrorized the Middle East and ruined American families is just chants of "USA!" (my all-time favorite was a site asking to submit one word in reaction to his death and a fairly prominent one was just the word American).

I mean, I never thought I, of all people, would be one to play judge during a moment such as this. Normally I'd tell the person that they're bothering themselves too much with other people's thoughts or I'd play devil's advocate and say, "Well, why shouldn't we be glad?" And, while I'm not exactly sure what I was, I know I'll never forget when I saw. Just going to boxturtlebulletin.com like usual and the opening article reads, Justice Has Been Done. And I was just shocked. For all those familiar reasons. For justice, because the specter of my childhood actually turned out to be there after all the newscasts and reactions and 10 years of living with it so that I was reminded just how ingrained he was in my memories, peers, psyche, and culture and now he could finally be extinguished, and (I admit) because I knew this was perfect political fodder. Forever the PR individual, this was what Obama needed for 2012.

For all these reasons, I was taken aback. I haven't slept since (and I only got 4 hours of sleep the night before). And yet, I keep feeling disgust when I see reactions. I mean, I know people are stupid. If you fall for anything within propaganda (which is PR and advertisement, as far as I'm concerned), you're stupid. The backbone is manipulation. Clearly my expectation was that people would eat this up, see it as "a reason to believe in America again" (fuck, was I ever this much of a cynic?).

And yet all I can see are the same problems that came up, starting with Reagan, during the Bush years. "USA! USA!" I suppose it's suitable enough to run around in a U. S. flag because of this; or at least, normally, you might be able to convince me that I shouldn't think negatively of it. But all I can hear when I see it is, "America is the best country in the world." That ridiculous, egocentric, and mind-numbingly stupid tag line of American politics.

I want to just sigh, give a bittersweet rejoicement (if I must party, celebrate resentingly), because life was spilt. If I thought I was a cynic before, I thought I was more of a cynic than to make a comment such as, "Is life so cheap now?" I'm glad he's gone. To quote someone else, "Glad Obama got the bastard." But I am not happy. Happy is unmuddled, too pure. It rings of celebration as if the Bears just won the Superbowl. "Yeah, we got 'im." Death (and news about a man who murdered people) should not be celebrated like a sports event; the reaction is so fundamentally detached from the notion of sadness that I can't help but think that the majority of those people only saw the man as a symbol, not a life, not a taker of lives, not an opressor, but an opponent to which our team was losing. Because, all along, it was just about us, right? It was America's personal agenda to settle because it's the strongest country in the world. Because we have a manifest destiny that entitles us to anything we fucking want.

I want to be happy. Today is a good day.

But it makes me a little sick inside to call myself an American.

Public displays of religiosity still make me thoroughly uncomfortable and unnerved.