Booshwa

All That I Am
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2003-03-06 02:59:05 (UTC)

A Whim...A Thought

I have control issues, journal. Bad issues and good ones.
The good one's are purely of a sexual nature...i.e., a
strong, dominate man having his way with me. However, when
anyone else tries to tell me what to do, I become enraged.
I didn't think I had any "buttons" but that is one. Don't
tell me what to do, plain and simple. I just don't like it.
I've let people go at the drop of a dime because I felt
that they've crossed the line, they tried to exert control
over me. Even my mom, she'll say do this or do that and
half the time I don't think twice about it but when
(like get her a cup of coffee or something) she
says clean this or stop doing that I get all spastic. The
only major person I can think of that I pushed away because
of that is Rosie. Well, it was part of it (besides the
whole gay issue) but it was the biggest part of it. My
whole problem with her started when she talked down to me
in the hospital (can't even remember the day or month) back
in 2001. I was shocked mainly because she was the first
friend that had ever talked to me like that, like I was her
child or something. And even now I get slightly peaved when
I think of it. I was considering writing her an email today
to see how she was doing and whatnot but then I realized
what she did...she doesn't think she was wrong either
and that makes the situation even worse. She doesn't have
to think she's wrong necessarily but you can apologize when
you see that it's affecting a friend. It's a shame that I
still think about it too but I think it's because I
considered her such a good friend and although there
were/are things that I don't respect about her, she was
always good to me leading up to that incident (and the
following one's).

I don't like being confined either. I was on the bus today
and it didn't leave for another 5-10mins and the driver
turned the bus off and I swear to god I was about to go
postal on that bus! It was so still and I started to
realize how small it was. Cars and elevators are like that
too. I'm not too claustrophobic but for some reason I want
to freak out when I'm in an elevator and it's just waiting
there with the door closed, or when there's a lot of people
in it.

On to another topic....I've been reading more of "An Open
Heart: Practicing Compassion in Everyday Life" by The Dalai
Lama and I'm taken aback at how brilliant this man is. He's
so simple yet so complex. He has this power to him, not a
forceful kind but one that just enlightens you on a
different level. I'm not swallowing all of his teachings so
easily but I have so much respect for him. I have to finish
this book and look into other works of his before I come to
a complete decision but he says to become truly happy and
reach that next step in life you have to do away with
powerful emotions that control you. Anger being one of
them...and I agree that anger and jealousy only hurt us
more in return but I'm not so sure that by purging
yourself of them that you become a better person by it.
Actually it sounds like you would become a cold and
emotionless person. But then again maybe there is another
level and I'm stuck on the bottom rung right now. I wonder
what it would be like to live life having so much
compassion and love and not feeling hate and anger and
jealousy all the time. It must be great...but then again,
he even says that even the stricktest buddhists feel those
damaging emotions from time to time but it's how you deal
with it and analyze it that makes you the stronger, better
person afterwards. As you can see I'm loving this stuff,
I'm such a freakin' nerd, it's great! Here's a little
passage from his book that I especially love:

"Compassion is of little value if it remains an idea. It
must become our attitude toward others, reflected in all
our thoughts and actions. And the mere concept of humility
does not diminish our arrogance; it must become our actual
state of being."

He's a paragon, what more can I say...besides Toni
Morrison, I look up to him more than anyone else...well, of
course my mom too but that's different. I respect my mom
because she's determined and goes after what she wants and
she uber intelligent, not to mention she gave me life and
worked her ass off to give me a good one at that. But I
don't agree with everything she believes in.

This journal entry is kinda of erratic, I've talked about
my claustrophobia, my control issues, His Holiness, and now
I'm going to jump into poetry. Woohoo! Here's a favorite of
mine:

Grandpa Died


He left me with his roses
and his black dirt garden with his tomatoes and lettuce
but he forgot to take our evenings in the kitchen together
and he forgot to take the smell of his jacket
and the sound of my name, the way he said it

He left me with his catfishing and his care of tools
and a set of deer antlers on the wall
but he forgot to take his glass of wine and ginger ale
and his big hands around mine.

He left a grey tackle box
a handmade knife and some homemade sinkers
but he left his hat on the rack
and his glasses by the bed
but he forgot to take his name,
forgot to take his smile.

He left his cruficix on the wall,
the statue of the Virgin on his dresser
and the braid of garlic
he loved so well.


Jeff Curtis


This is one of the saddest poems I've ever read. Everytime
I read it, I cry. It just hits you somewhere
deep. "Grandpa" is my mom when I read this. I would imagine
this is how I would feel when she does die. Struggling with
all the memories of her.

Well, I think that's it for now journal. Later.


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