Friday, December 05, 2014

Struggles

Struggles. 

Everywhere I look now, I see struggles. Everyone is fighting for their rights and beliefs. 
Muslims demand that pork be removed from school menus to be more aligned to their faith and beliefs.
Atheists demand all references to religion are removed from public use.  
Minorities struggle to maintain identity and achieve equality. 
Majorities struggle with intent vs. impact, and feel shamed for having privilege. 
Sex negative and positive feminism idealists are perpetually at war with one another. 
Journalists are caught a disturbing lack of integrity, perpetually reporting on one side of an issue, while systematically ignoring the other. They are found to be financially and sexually supporting each other and the subjects of their articles, making a big web of lies, deceit, and misconduct. 
Lynch-mobs tear down, threaten, and terrify people at the slightest provocation.
Women feel oppressed and fight for their rights. Men feel the shift towards the feminism based culture is crippling and demonizing them. 
Women are being shamed for having 'male oriented dreams' such as aspiring to being a housewife with captian/first mate roles. 
Men are shamed for being alpha, dominating, or oppressive. 
Men are shamed for being beta, weak, and useless. 
Yellow journalism is rife and rampant throughout all mass media. 
Opinions are debated across every social media outlet imaginable.

Everyone is being oppressed. Everyone is oppressing someone. 

I don't like this world we live in. 




That's not true. I love my bubble. I have my family, whom I love. I have my girlfriend, whom I love. I have my friends, whom I love. I have my career, which I love. I live on a beautiful planet, which I love. I am blessed with a totally able mind and body. 

And perhaps it's my white, male, christian privilege, but I feel like most people are in more or less the same boat that I'm in. My little bubble is wonderful, I made it myself, focused on making my own happiness, and rolled with it. I feel like most people have their own wonderful little bubbles. 

Perhaps those little bubbles include literary works that I personally wouldn't find enjoyable. Or they find happiness in acts that I wouldn't enjoy. Perhaps their faith or lack there of is a major source of their happiness. Whatever, it's their bubbles. 

So why can't we all stick to our little bubbles? Absolutely no one in this world was born equal. Every single person has lived a different life. So why is the idea that there is only 'one right away of thinking' (see: sex positive and sex negative feminism) so important to us that we need to remove ourselves from our bubbles and go poking into other peoples business? 

Are we all just afraid of being wrong? Or if someone else is happier doing something different we must tell them they're doing it wrong?

I really don't know. I know what I believe. I know what I like. I know my bubble. 
Is it wrong for me to hide from the debates, the mobs, the rage, the controversies, just to feel warm and safe? 

I do understand the need for conversation. I understand the need to question everything, and the right of free speech. 

But man, sometimes all I see are hordes of people campaigning behind computer screens, vomiting out judgments and criticisms on every little thing. 

Step outside. Be the change you want to see in the world. 



Snuggles. Not struggles. 

Sunday, March 16, 2014

I'm Offended.

I’m Offended.

What a strange concept. Being offended.

What are they really saying, when someone tells me “I’m offended”

Why do I not care when someone tells me that they’ve been offended my words or actions.
My thoughts immediately jump to “So what?”

How am I supposed to react when someone tells me that they’re offended. Do I apologize without meaning, do I attempt to empathize?

What if someone taking offense offends me? What happens then?

In total honesty, I really don’t care when someone says that they’ve been offended. Someone somewhere is always offended, and it’s impossible and illogical to expect someone to apologize and change the way they act just because someone’s feelings have been hurt. Thinking about it, who cares about your feelings, really? Your family, your mother, maybe a close friend or two? But the world does not care if you’re offended. Honestly and truly.

When someone tells me that I’ve offended them, I feel like that it’s not my problem that their feelings have been hurt. Saying you’ve been offended isn’t some magic saying that makes your feelings and opinions superior than my own simply because you feel hurt because of my actions or words.
Is anyone so important that anyone else should change to accommodate them simply because their feelings have been hurt? Or should they just grow up?

You can expect to be offended, all the time. Sometimes it’s a good thing. Someone once thought that the idea of an intergraded society was offensive. People think the idea that women showing their bodies is offensive, and at the exact same time, people think that not having the freedom to express and do whatever they want with their own bodies is offensive.

Maybe the problem isn’t that you’re offended, but that you think the rest of the world should care. If the rest of the world changed everytime someone was offended, we would simply cease to be. The only way I can not offend someone is by sitting in my room, in the dark.

Oh but wait, my boss will be offended I didn’t come to work. My mother will be offended that I didn’t call her in the last month. My friends will be offended I missed our dates and get-togethers.
Clearly, not offended anyone is impossible. So why should the world conform to one person being offended. What makes that person so special?

Nothing. It’s their feelings that got hurt, it’s their problem.

We can all just grow up and stop acting like the most important person in the world.
I hurt your feeling? Grow up. You hurt my feelings (good job, that’s not easily done)? I’ll deal with them. They’re my feelings, they’re my problem. I don’t expect anyone to change the way they are simply because my feelings are hurt.

It someone did something bad, something that hurt more than just my feelings. Like, say, Stole someone’s bag right in front of me, I would do something. That would require action. But when a crotchety bag of a human says “That woman breastfeeding in public offends me” I just want to take a hold of their shoulders, look them in the eye and say “No one cares. Grow up. Go on with your life.”

And then go on with my own life.   





Friday, February 28, 2014

4am musings.

I have a ton of half formed ideas in my head... none of which I've thought out enough to warrant their own blog posts.

I saw a woman on the street today, and she caught my eye. Most people I see have their heads down, eyes cast on the ground, or towards their mobile devices. But she had her head up, her eyes toward the horizon. A faint smile teased her lips. She had a light behind her eyes. I only saw her for a second as she walked past me, but her confidence stood out. I've been thinking about her all day. I've been thinking about how I'd love to just talk to her, see where she gets her confidence from.

I actually remember a time when I was that person. My eyes were on the horizon, my head was high, and my resting face had a smile on it. I can't even put to words how happy I was
Happy, Fufilled, Loved, Respected, Estatic. I could have used all of those words to describe me. Today, I can't say any of those would paint an accurate picture of the man I've become.

I'm not depressed or anything, I'm not a sad sack by any means. I just am. I feel as if I was running, then I tripped. And instead of getting back up, I just sat on the grass, put my arms on my knees, and just quit for a while.

I don't know how I feel about my family anymore.
My older sister is happily married, getting ready to start a family. Good for her, I'm super happy (albeit envious) for her.
Let's talk about that for a moment. I remember at her wedding, I was talking to one of her friends from University. We were chatting about her thesis. I read it, and I totally understood everything she wrote. It was very well written, and easy to understand. but I could tell how much effort went into it. It wasn't a last minute job, a lot of work and thought went into it. I mentioned how I felt like I wasn't ment to go to University because I could never write something like that. Her friend looked at her, then looked at me
"You need to understand something. Your sister isn't normal."
Now those words have been on my mind ever since they were spoken.
Nothing my sister does is normal. From a small town, she went to University, graduated with first class honours, maintained a long distance relationship for four years, then got married at age twenty four. It looks by twenty five, she'll have a child.

That is extraordinary.

One of my biggest issues has always been her. I've always felt like I was in her shadow. That tiny woman casts an incredible shadow. I strive to meet the standards she sets. But it never crossed my mind that she is an I anomaly. I'm learning to let her go more and more, and try to be my own person. I don't need to get married and have a kid by the time I'm 25.

Although part of me has a crippling fear of time running out. There is no Song of Time in life. and I really don't want to be dating when I'm getting into my 30's and 40's.


Now my little sister... I see her doing the same thing that I did when I was her age. Only worse. I had a shitty girlfriend, but I thought I was happy. It wasn't until I actually had a really healthy relationship did I realize how terrible my past ones were. I worry for her because she's doing all the same things I did, but she won't listen to me when I tell her. She needs to make her own mistakes, and I get that....  But damn I wish I could mind meld with her.

I haven't been sleeping at all lately. as much as I want to, my nights are restless, my dreams are turbulent and disturbing, and I don't know how to fix them.


I really can't wait until I figure out what the hell I'm going to do, so I can start doing it already. I'm ready for this transition period of my life to be over.

Allons-y

Monday, January 27, 2014

Shut Up!

Right now, I feel as if I'm just biding my time.
I feel as if I'm someday just going to explode into happiness. I'll find it under a rock somewhere, make it my own, and be totally content with my life.

I believe that because I've already experienced that feeling before. Hell, I'm boarderline content right now. A little more of everything and I'm sure I'll actually be feeling some happiness creep back into my heart.

But sometimes at 4 a.m. I feel alone. And sad. I hear a voice cream into the back of my head
"You were happy before."
Shut up!
"You blew it"
Shut up!
"You're wasting time. Life is going to pass you by."
Shut up!
"You're 23 now, but tomorrow you'll wake up 33, still single, a second cook in a pub."
Shut up!
"Everything was going really well. You let it slip through your fingers, then ran away from the pieces."
...Shut up!
"I hope you like cats. That's the only company you'll get for a long time."
...I love cats...
"Your cats will eat your face when you die alone."
"So what!? I'm delicious!"
"Everything you touch, dies."
"...Shut up..."

Then I read for the next 3 hours.

Thursday, January 23, 2014

50 Book Pledge

Last year I read 25 books. This year I've pledged to read 50, but now I find myself struggling to define a book.

Is the Gruffalo a book? A childrens books lasting 20 pages and containing less words than this blog itself?

If a childrens book is considered a book, what about comic books and graphic novels? They still convey incredible stories, and I'm still reading them.

Is reading a requirement? What if I listen to an audio book?

Is just a story necessary? What if I played a video game and read the subtitles. The games I play all tell stories... many times more emotional than many of the pages that I've read.

If a game counts, what about movies, or televison shows?

I don't know what kind of parameters to set for myself. :(


Oh, and if anyone is wondering I've read one and a half books so far in 2014. So, wish me luck!



Wednesday, January 01, 2014

And so here I sit, at the dawn of a new year. The snow hangs heavily on the branches outside, and the coffee pot makes slightly terrifying gurgling noises. I can hear my Grandpa snoring in his room, making me reminiscence about sawing logs. I sit here, contemplating my love of fiction.

My passion for created worlds is not one to be undersold. The frequency and intensity of which I lose myself in an entirely fabricated world is borderline terrifying. From the moment I get home from work, until I fall asleep, I am immersed in some form of fiction. Sometimes it's a video game, sometimes and book, and sometimes it's a fantastic television series.

I think about how geeky I've become, making vague references to series that make muggles raise their eyebrows in confusion. the past two years have been hard for my love of fiction with so much of my time taken up by school. My career has little patience for worlds of fantasy, but prefers to stay grounded in traditions and stories with roots in this world.

My other passion, which I've fed for the past two years a solid stream of fuel has gone from a roaring bonfire, to a controlled lamp. Still giving light, serving it's purpose, but not all consuming as it had been before. My love for cooking still comes through in short concentrated bursts. Like how right now, I am awaiting for the sound of feet touching the floor to begin making hollendaise sauce for eggs benedict. My own diet is absolutely abysmal. Consisting of pizza, Chinese takeout, and whatever I feel compelled to put into my body from work. Usually consisting of cheese, french fries, and beer.


Sometimes it's nice to sit at the kitchen table, listening to the ticking noise of clocks and the jingle of a cat as it stalks around a darkened house. As much as I love the worlds of fantasy, it never seems to entirely distract me from what I really want.

I am looking for someone to partake in an adventure with me. Where can I find such as person?