Something funny about getting older is you notice stupid things people do, even those just a few years younger than you. You like to assure yourself that you never did things like that! Even though there is always a little voice in the back of your head that asks, did I? I personally find myself annoyed by teenagers. I heard many conversations between teenage girls and guys when I worked in a popular department store. It always seemed interesting to hear how important these seemingly petty things are to these budding adults. It can be anything from clothes and hair to the big boyfriend/girlfriend issues.
I laugh to myself knowing that it’s fleeting; the problem will be gone before they know it. It is also kind of amusing how the younger you are, the more you seem to know. Then you get older and turn around and say, “I shouldn’t have done that.” Like, I moved out on my own and had a wake up call. I thought I was ready! I’m 19, I’m an adult! How wrong was I? It also prompted me to understand psychology more. I see there are really just so many personality types. In any setting there are always the freakish, the righteous, the curious, the quiet, the outspoken ‘know it all’, the popular/ditsy, the thuggish, and maybe even a county person. It seems to be a never failing system.
From where I sit in class even, I can look around and catch these types. Anywhere you go, you can get two people who’ve never met that can fall easily into the same type. It can almost seem uncanny how that would work, but it does. Everywhere I go I find this pattern. I shudder to think that even my own personality is looming out there somewhere in its own social circle. It kind of hurts the ego to come to the conclusion that you aren’t one of a kind and that there is someone else out there like you, maybe thousands of people. But it does seem that there is a personality formula for even the most different of people.
Almost like life, in itself is the ultimate game. If you’ve ever played games like; Sims, Age of Empires, or Civilization, you’re ultimately playing God. You tell the players what to do, even sometimes how to do it, in the order you want them to do it and so on. Then you sit there and watch them live their lives out in front of you. You even have to sit by and watch as other civilizations come in and try to do what you’re doing, almost as if each tribe has its own God. The same way ancient civilizations believed, that makes it easy to get a connection. In a sense, their life is a game, so what stops our lives from being one? God could be the ultimate player. Having preset people types and letting us go on and live our lives and make our stupid mistakes, to ultimately make it through and learn a lesson.
Is this why people kill? Or why people get great movie roles and some never can catch a break? Could our lives have a prearranged destined path and God is the player that watches us wiggle around until we get there? Then, one by one we lead ourselves to personal advancements. Each advancement is another notch in our soul for higher advancement later. In terms of reincarnation, each life we live is another lesson learned that goes toward an overall spiritual goal of soul enlightenment.
A good example is the game Final Fantasy X. There is this thing called a sphere grid with any ability your character would ever need to learn and once they learn it that spot fills in and they are able to perfect it. What if God was the player and each person had their own sphere grid. The grid transferred from lifetime to lifetime, meaning our body was just our transport to gain another level on our grid. Once the grid is complete, that is when you achieve a perfection and no longer have to come back. Maybe like a peace and harmony on the other side? No one can be too sure, but it is an interesting thought. Which could explain why some people are deemed evil or mean or troubled, maybe they are just learning a lesson. Since not all lessons are good ones, there has to be all kinds of people on earth, good and bad. At some point in time, it seems the older you get, the more you realize this evitable truth. Then you think back when you were younger and wish you had realized this all along. Maybe if you had always known you wouldn’t have tried to change people or ignore people, or be unreasonable yourself.
I think there are a lot of things that people don’t realize when they are young that would have helped them a lot. Who knows what someone’s life would have been like had they been able to understand certain things about it. I’m not sure what even the world would be like. Maybe different cultures could all come to a similar agreement and we could all live happily, if these simple things were taught at a young age. I guess that might be something that we’ll never know.
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
Inner Need & Irony
Everyone comes into this life differently. Some people come into this life, grow up, and live normal lives. They never do anything too special, just live through life and watch it as it passes by. Most importantly, that is okay with them. I have never been one of those people. I knew at a very young age my plans were very different from everyone else around me. I also learned early on that society doesn’t take well to people who think they are here for something greater than they are.
“You’ll never be able to do anything. You live in a fantasy world, none of that will ever happen.” These words still stir up emotions deep inside me that continuously rise to the surface. This was a common phrase I heard growing up from my mother. Psychology teaches us that the more negative phrases you hear, the more they become part of your psyche, law of attraction even. Such nonsense had quite the opposite effect on me. I just wanted to do great things even more so when I met with this kind of opposition.
It was March, 2005 when my boyfriend introduced me to the thought of publishing a novel. I hadn’t ever really been what you would call a writer. I could write, it just was not an activity I did for recreation. At the time, I had just come upon a wonderful story idea! It was one of the rare moments in my life I jotted down some sort of fiction storyline for something other than a paper in school. I had bought this birthday gift that had a fiery colored dragon encapsulated in a glass ball with a long, dark blue robed wizard standing next to it, looking in. The scene was so intriguing. It was as if the moment was frozen in time and was now on display. At that instant, I had a beginning and an ending to my story. What a wonderful thing it would be to have a publisher like my story, and accept it for publishing! Excited with possibilities, I decided to submit a query for my story. Outwardly, just for fun, to see what would happen. Inwardly, it was genuine curiosity.
Did I really have something good here? Would I really be able to do something that no one else I knew had done? After some back and forth emails, I was signing a contract. The date was fifth of July 2005, my twenty-first birthday. Out of pure excitement, and an inner need to prove myself, I was shouting out to the world of my grand accomplishment! Everyone I knew was on the receiving end of the glorious news! Yet still, in the wake of such a life changing event, there was a cloud of skepticism. My mother wrote it off as an everyday occurrence. Not as if it was actually something real, something tangible. Who cares that I signed a contract to publish a book at twenty one years old? No big deal, right? It was really beyond me why someone who was supposed to care so much about me, the one who birthed me, could be so blasé about something so important to me.
Someone wanted me in a published form! Why couldn’t she be proud of me?After the initial reaction, I decided to start keeping any developments of the process to myself. I didn’t need her to help me. I didn’t need her unfounded criticism misting over my train of thought. Finally, I had the chance to show her I was capable of more than she thought I was! I was going to show the world! Ten or twelve fourteen hour days in front of the ever long word screen on the computer, I sent in my complete manuscript! It was a special day as it was my boyfriend’s birthday! It was too much to keep to myself. I determined maybe I could allow my mother this one announcement. If anything would make her thrilled, this would be it! Knowing that my work would officially be in print would surely uplift the negativity. But, to my not so big surprise, it was just another passing moment that had no substance. A childish smile would appear on her face whenever she saw me, thinking how sad I must be to actually believe these things I keep telling myself. It made her laugh for her to hear my plans and how my life was going to unfold. What will it take for her to realize my potential?
After revisions and book cover acceptance, I was holding it! My novel, Iris: The Legend That Time Forgot, was in my hands! My book was ready to buy. The jumping and shouts of happiness seemed to last a lifetime! I was a published author! I could hold, touch and read my own words from my own book. It was a feeling I could never forget. How amazing was this? After a little showing off, a dark thought hit my brain. Would this mean anything? If I show it to my mother, what will she say? Wouldn’t she HAVE to acknowledge me now? Not necessarily, as I came to find out. Upon receiving her personally autographed copy, she threw it back in my face telling me she didn’t want it. It was a mixture of confusion and hurt that came flooding in. At that moment, I realized something. It wasn’t me she was mad at, or looking down on. It was herself. She was eaten up in jealousy. She was forty-four years old and had never held down a job longer than a year. She was living with her mother and had no money to her name. She had let me grow up in an abusive household and allowed terrible things to happen to me my entire life until I left at nineteen.
What was I trying to impress her for? She had never tried to make me happy. I couldn’t let myself continue to be eaten alive by something that I just couldn’t have, and that was her acceptance. I didn’t need it, I already proved to myself I was better than that and that I could do the great things I always felt I could. It was best that I stayed my distance for a while. Everyone else I knew was boiling over in excitement for me! Everyone wanted to know what was going to happen next! This was a really good time in my life. I had even moved on from the sadness of my mother and was busy promoting my book, working, and going to school. Things were really moving along nicely with book signings and promotions.
As life would have it, it wouldn’t be this way long. My mother somehow weaseled her way back into my life. She couldn’t hide from it anymore, I was successful. My eighteen year old brother, always her favorite, was at home. He had quit school and wanted nothing more than to be on his computer or out with his friends all the time. And I was the one she was looking down on? I think it was a long, difficult struggle for her to see what she had done and see why she was wrong. She now seemed interested in what I was doing. She wanted to be apart of it, be in the action. I wanted to stay mad, I wanted to turn her away and tell her to never talk to me again. But the inner need for acceptance overcame me and I thought it was time for forgiveness. Being angry with someone is like throwing hot embers at them. While they are in your hands, you’re really just burning yourself. It really isn’t hurting anyone but you.
I had one last talk with her about how she threw the book in my face. “I didn’t appreciate it,” I let her know. “Not that it matters anyway, I guess. After all, I do live in a fantasy world.” I gave her a snide look. She usually hates comments like that. She hates to think she was the one with the problem. She knew she was wrong all those years, I could see it in her face as she looked at the floor. After a moment of thought, she looked up at me and her response just made me laugh out loud.“Well, I guess it’s a good thing you live in a fantasy world, huh? If you didn’t live there, how could you write such a good book about it?”
“You’ll never be able to do anything. You live in a fantasy world, none of that will ever happen.” These words still stir up emotions deep inside me that continuously rise to the surface. This was a common phrase I heard growing up from my mother. Psychology teaches us that the more negative phrases you hear, the more they become part of your psyche, law of attraction even. Such nonsense had quite the opposite effect on me. I just wanted to do great things even more so when I met with this kind of opposition.
It was March, 2005 when my boyfriend introduced me to the thought of publishing a novel. I hadn’t ever really been what you would call a writer. I could write, it just was not an activity I did for recreation. At the time, I had just come upon a wonderful story idea! It was one of the rare moments in my life I jotted down some sort of fiction storyline for something other than a paper in school. I had bought this birthday gift that had a fiery colored dragon encapsulated in a glass ball with a long, dark blue robed wizard standing next to it, looking in. The scene was so intriguing. It was as if the moment was frozen in time and was now on display. At that instant, I had a beginning and an ending to my story. What a wonderful thing it would be to have a publisher like my story, and accept it for publishing! Excited with possibilities, I decided to submit a query for my story. Outwardly, just for fun, to see what would happen. Inwardly, it was genuine curiosity.
Did I really have something good here? Would I really be able to do something that no one else I knew had done? After some back and forth emails, I was signing a contract. The date was fifth of July 2005, my twenty-first birthday. Out of pure excitement, and an inner need to prove myself, I was shouting out to the world of my grand accomplishment! Everyone I knew was on the receiving end of the glorious news! Yet still, in the wake of such a life changing event, there was a cloud of skepticism. My mother wrote it off as an everyday occurrence. Not as if it was actually something real, something tangible. Who cares that I signed a contract to publish a book at twenty one years old? No big deal, right? It was really beyond me why someone who was supposed to care so much about me, the one who birthed me, could be so blasé about something so important to me.
Someone wanted me in a published form! Why couldn’t she be proud of me?After the initial reaction, I decided to start keeping any developments of the process to myself. I didn’t need her to help me. I didn’t need her unfounded criticism misting over my train of thought. Finally, I had the chance to show her I was capable of more than she thought I was! I was going to show the world! Ten or twelve fourteen hour days in front of the ever long word screen on the computer, I sent in my complete manuscript! It was a special day as it was my boyfriend’s birthday! It was too much to keep to myself. I determined maybe I could allow my mother this one announcement. If anything would make her thrilled, this would be it! Knowing that my work would officially be in print would surely uplift the negativity. But, to my not so big surprise, it was just another passing moment that had no substance. A childish smile would appear on her face whenever she saw me, thinking how sad I must be to actually believe these things I keep telling myself. It made her laugh for her to hear my plans and how my life was going to unfold. What will it take for her to realize my potential?
After revisions and book cover acceptance, I was holding it! My novel, Iris: The Legend That Time Forgot, was in my hands! My book was ready to buy. The jumping and shouts of happiness seemed to last a lifetime! I was a published author! I could hold, touch and read my own words from my own book. It was a feeling I could never forget. How amazing was this? After a little showing off, a dark thought hit my brain. Would this mean anything? If I show it to my mother, what will she say? Wouldn’t she HAVE to acknowledge me now? Not necessarily, as I came to find out. Upon receiving her personally autographed copy, she threw it back in my face telling me she didn’t want it. It was a mixture of confusion and hurt that came flooding in. At that moment, I realized something. It wasn’t me she was mad at, or looking down on. It was herself. She was eaten up in jealousy. She was forty-four years old and had never held down a job longer than a year. She was living with her mother and had no money to her name. She had let me grow up in an abusive household and allowed terrible things to happen to me my entire life until I left at nineteen.
What was I trying to impress her for? She had never tried to make me happy. I couldn’t let myself continue to be eaten alive by something that I just couldn’t have, and that was her acceptance. I didn’t need it, I already proved to myself I was better than that and that I could do the great things I always felt I could. It was best that I stayed my distance for a while. Everyone else I knew was boiling over in excitement for me! Everyone wanted to know what was going to happen next! This was a really good time in my life. I had even moved on from the sadness of my mother and was busy promoting my book, working, and going to school. Things were really moving along nicely with book signings and promotions.
As life would have it, it wouldn’t be this way long. My mother somehow weaseled her way back into my life. She couldn’t hide from it anymore, I was successful. My eighteen year old brother, always her favorite, was at home. He had quit school and wanted nothing more than to be on his computer or out with his friends all the time. And I was the one she was looking down on? I think it was a long, difficult struggle for her to see what she had done and see why she was wrong. She now seemed interested in what I was doing. She wanted to be apart of it, be in the action. I wanted to stay mad, I wanted to turn her away and tell her to never talk to me again. But the inner need for acceptance overcame me and I thought it was time for forgiveness. Being angry with someone is like throwing hot embers at them. While they are in your hands, you’re really just burning yourself. It really isn’t hurting anyone but you.
I had one last talk with her about how she threw the book in my face. “I didn’t appreciate it,” I let her know. “Not that it matters anyway, I guess. After all, I do live in a fantasy world.” I gave her a snide look. She usually hates comments like that. She hates to think she was the one with the problem. She knew she was wrong all those years, I could see it in her face as she looked at the floor. After a moment of thought, she looked up at me and her response just made me laugh out loud.“Well, I guess it’s a good thing you live in a fantasy world, huh? If you didn’t live there, how could you write such a good book about it?”
The Religion Barrier
I smile upon reading a story called Salvation about a boy being pushed to claim having been saved in front of his church. It wasn’t too terribly long ago that I had a similar situation going on in my life. Since I was born I had heard about getting saved. I heard the many stories of how it felt like a huge weight was lifted off your shoulders. It was the most perfect moment of existence and all the bad was gone. Now you can truly see the light.
I had gone to church for years all by myself. I walked alone, up a hill and a right at the stop sign. All the way down to the church I called home from the time I was five years old. I had several bibles that were given to me. I was alone in my religious teaching as my mother slept in the other room the whole time I was gone. When I was nine, my foster family brought me to another year as a vacation bible school student. This was nothing new to me but what I was going to experience was.
I was asked at this special time if I were saved. This was the moment I had been hearing about all my life. I answered truthfully with a simple ‘no’. That was the short of the process, the discussions, the readings, the decision. I was ready. I was told I was ready. It was definitely time. I wanted to be saved! Maybe if I were saved my life would change. This load of unhappiness, the troubled feelings and my situation would be lifted. I’d be a different person and my life would never be the same. I got to it. I said the required verse and put my heart and soul into it. I wanted it!
When it was over, I opened my eyes hoping for the same experience everyone else had felt. That special something was bound to come to me, I was sure. I would be SAVED! I waited. I smiled at the sweet, curly headed older lady holding my hand. I waited. I smiled over to the white haired preacher man holding my other hand. I waited. I felt uncomfortable, I must have done something wrong. I’ve always had a hard time admitting to such so, out of not wanting to disappoint these well intentioned people, I sounded genuine and said I felt the infamous ‘it’. Oh yeah, it happened and I felt it.
Who knows? Maybe I would feel it later and my excitement was the problem. My nerves were crowding my real feelings. I waited. As the day wore on to the next, I knew it wasn’t coming. It wasn’t coming that night and it wasn’t coming when I got my certificate of authenticity saying ‘it’ happened. Not even a year later did it happen when I got saved, again. I even went as far as to getting baptized to ‘seal the deal’. ‘It’ never came. I could never understand why nothing happened to me but it did to everyone else.
Why wasn’t I happy? Why didn’t I experience what everyone else had and my troubles been lifted? I look back and wonder were my troubles too much? Are the people who have this miraculous experience too simple minded and have nothing to bare as it is, making the transition a simple one? Did I expect too much? The power of words didn’t help me when saying that special verse. Is that all getting saved is? The power of words in action.
What if that is all it is and that’s why people feel something because the words worked and they weren’t reading into it the way I was. They just let it do what it does. If all it really was was the power of words, and there wasn’t really anything special, what would the Christian religion be like? What would people think if they thought that was what it was and it isn’t Jesus coming into you. But more, the perception of him coming into your heart. Thinking it and visualizing it was what made the feeling happen, not the actual action. That is a thought that more than likely wouldn’t get a second chance to most people, especially those in need of open minds.
I had gone to church for years all by myself. I walked alone, up a hill and a right at the stop sign. All the way down to the church I called home from the time I was five years old. I had several bibles that were given to me. I was alone in my religious teaching as my mother slept in the other room the whole time I was gone. When I was nine, my foster family brought me to another year as a vacation bible school student. This was nothing new to me but what I was going to experience was.
I was asked at this special time if I were saved. This was the moment I had been hearing about all my life. I answered truthfully with a simple ‘no’. That was the short of the process, the discussions, the readings, the decision. I was ready. I was told I was ready. It was definitely time. I wanted to be saved! Maybe if I were saved my life would change. This load of unhappiness, the troubled feelings and my situation would be lifted. I’d be a different person and my life would never be the same. I got to it. I said the required verse and put my heart and soul into it. I wanted it!
When it was over, I opened my eyes hoping for the same experience everyone else had felt. That special something was bound to come to me, I was sure. I would be SAVED! I waited. I smiled at the sweet, curly headed older lady holding my hand. I waited. I smiled over to the white haired preacher man holding my other hand. I waited. I felt uncomfortable, I must have done something wrong. I’ve always had a hard time admitting to such so, out of not wanting to disappoint these well intentioned people, I sounded genuine and said I felt the infamous ‘it’. Oh yeah, it happened and I felt it.
Who knows? Maybe I would feel it later and my excitement was the problem. My nerves were crowding my real feelings. I waited. As the day wore on to the next, I knew it wasn’t coming. It wasn’t coming that night and it wasn’t coming when I got my certificate of authenticity saying ‘it’ happened. Not even a year later did it happen when I got saved, again. I even went as far as to getting baptized to ‘seal the deal’. ‘It’ never came. I could never understand why nothing happened to me but it did to everyone else.
Why wasn’t I happy? Why didn’t I experience what everyone else had and my troubles been lifted? I look back and wonder were my troubles too much? Are the people who have this miraculous experience too simple minded and have nothing to bare as it is, making the transition a simple one? Did I expect too much? The power of words didn’t help me when saying that special verse. Is that all getting saved is? The power of words in action.
What if that is all it is and that’s why people feel something because the words worked and they weren’t reading into it the way I was. They just let it do what it does. If all it really was was the power of words, and there wasn’t really anything special, what would the Christian religion be like? What would people think if they thought that was what it was and it isn’t Jesus coming into you. But more, the perception of him coming into your heart. Thinking it and visualizing it was what made the feeling happen, not the actual action. That is a thought that more than likely wouldn’t get a second chance to most people, especially those in need of open minds.
Why We Love Horror
When you think about entertainment, everyone has a different version of what is entertaining. In Roman times, seeing people being torn alive by massive animals was a form of entertainment. These days, if that were to happen, someone would go to jail and probably be killed themselves. But on the contrary, if we drive past an automobile accident, the first question most people want answered is, "Is anyone dead?". It is like a morbid curiosity that doesn’t seem to matter about morals.
What is it people like about things that are so cheap and horrifying? You would think people would turn away from such things. Especially if they have been through a similar situation you think it would make a difference. It’s just like watching someone get insulted, then laugh. As long as it isn’t you, its funny. Why does it seem that humans get more pleasure from seeing others in pain than getting pleasure just themselves? Could it be an inner need for security and knowing it isn’t them that is having the hard time?
A good example is someone in financial difficulty. When they were doing well they shunned away people who were having problems. These people would turn away from homeless people and not give to charity feeling they are above that. Some people even go as far as to say that is their problem and that these people should get a job, absolutely no pitty. Am I saying that people deserve lots of handouts if they get in a situation? No, I just think everyone gets down and is in need of help at some point. Then when this person finds themselves in a jam, they expect people to help them. But will they get help? No, because their friends are just like them, now they are the ones being looked down upon.
Money is really the root of a lot of problems. When you have it its great and you do whatever u can usually to keep it for yourself. You dare anyone to try and take it from you. If you don’t have it, it’s all you strive for. It’s what you live for! I really don’t find many people who are just genuinely happy moneywise. People who love the cheap kind of entertainment with that morbid curiosity prove a theory that there is always a dark side to human nature. That dark side is also brought out by money. Money and horror seem to not be too distant of relatives when it comes to human nature. They can both bring out the worst in people and make you wish it would go away. They both seem to cause problems and can be scary. If you have too much money, you can’t trust anyone, if you are in a horror movie you can’t trust anyone either. The parallel’s to money and the scary unknown are astounding.
People’s behavior can totally change and they can become out of character under both circumstances. I think this is an important reason why communism doesn’t work. No matter what happens, you can’t control someone’s finances and people will never be equal. Trying to make that work is horrible, hence a horror situation arises when people try to beat the system. Is it possible to have a world like that? A world where everyone can be equal? It doesn’t seem so because no matter what, there will always be some kind of differences. If it isn’t money, it will be looks and so on. The old quote, “Why can’t we all just get along?” seems like the golden question.
Why can’t we? What is stopping us from being horrible and controlled by money and power that we can’t just see through to the real side of people. If there were no money, and we were all subsistence living, what would people be like? Would people be true to themselves and do what they were interested in, living happy lives without bounds? Or would the population find something else to hoard in abundance? What would the world be like if you could marry who you wanted, do what you wanted, live where you wanted and not be dictated by money and things that don’t really mean anything? Would there be another Roman Pox Romana and have us live in harmony? Or would it be like the real one and eventually end due to war.
Instead of having things that could cause pain, wouldn’t it be nice if we all just found a way to get along and still keep our own beliefs, just not let others interrupt our own. Really, if we are solid on our own beliefs, it should not bother us what other people are doing as long as they allow us to do what we want. Why is a world like that an oxymoron? It would be wonderful to see people get over their differences and move on with life living it the way they wanted to live it, not having to care about others.
Since it is mostly about power trades and ends usually anyway, why not get rid of formal marriage? With the divorce rate like it is, what is the point? Most couples live like married couples long before even the thought sometimes. If there were no divorces, then the world would be a lot more peaceful. It is a nice thought but I know people must have that piece of paper even if it runs out after a while and the feelings are long gone. People don’t have to pay for that kind of torture, they do it to themselves by staying in decrepit situations. It could be viewed as the emotional equivalent of cutting your wrists. You just let the life flow out until there is nothing left, and as it goes, your heart continues to beat. It knows time is coming to an end but refuses to do anything about it, just watches it fade away. Mainly, people will always have this dark side. If they aren’t watching it, they are probably living it in some way. Maybe it is in human nature to never be truly happy.
What is it people like about things that are so cheap and horrifying? You would think people would turn away from such things. Especially if they have been through a similar situation you think it would make a difference. It’s just like watching someone get insulted, then laugh. As long as it isn’t you, its funny. Why does it seem that humans get more pleasure from seeing others in pain than getting pleasure just themselves? Could it be an inner need for security and knowing it isn’t them that is having the hard time?
A good example is someone in financial difficulty. When they were doing well they shunned away people who were having problems. These people would turn away from homeless people and not give to charity feeling they are above that. Some people even go as far as to say that is their problem and that these people should get a job, absolutely no pitty. Am I saying that people deserve lots of handouts if they get in a situation? No, I just think everyone gets down and is in need of help at some point. Then when this person finds themselves in a jam, they expect people to help them. But will they get help? No, because their friends are just like them, now they are the ones being looked down upon.
Money is really the root of a lot of problems. When you have it its great and you do whatever u can usually to keep it for yourself. You dare anyone to try and take it from you. If you don’t have it, it’s all you strive for. It’s what you live for! I really don’t find many people who are just genuinely happy moneywise. People who love the cheap kind of entertainment with that morbid curiosity prove a theory that there is always a dark side to human nature. That dark side is also brought out by money. Money and horror seem to not be too distant of relatives when it comes to human nature. They can both bring out the worst in people and make you wish it would go away. They both seem to cause problems and can be scary. If you have too much money, you can’t trust anyone, if you are in a horror movie you can’t trust anyone either. The parallel’s to money and the scary unknown are astounding.
People’s behavior can totally change and they can become out of character under both circumstances. I think this is an important reason why communism doesn’t work. No matter what happens, you can’t control someone’s finances and people will never be equal. Trying to make that work is horrible, hence a horror situation arises when people try to beat the system. Is it possible to have a world like that? A world where everyone can be equal? It doesn’t seem so because no matter what, there will always be some kind of differences. If it isn’t money, it will be looks and so on. The old quote, “Why can’t we all just get along?” seems like the golden question.
Why can’t we? What is stopping us from being horrible and controlled by money and power that we can’t just see through to the real side of people. If there were no money, and we were all subsistence living, what would people be like? Would people be true to themselves and do what they were interested in, living happy lives without bounds? Or would the population find something else to hoard in abundance? What would the world be like if you could marry who you wanted, do what you wanted, live where you wanted and not be dictated by money and things that don’t really mean anything? Would there be another Roman Pox Romana and have us live in harmony? Or would it be like the real one and eventually end due to war.
Instead of having things that could cause pain, wouldn’t it be nice if we all just found a way to get along and still keep our own beliefs, just not let others interrupt our own. Really, if we are solid on our own beliefs, it should not bother us what other people are doing as long as they allow us to do what we want. Why is a world like that an oxymoron? It would be wonderful to see people get over their differences and move on with life living it the way they wanted to live it, not having to care about others.
Since it is mostly about power trades and ends usually anyway, why not get rid of formal marriage? With the divorce rate like it is, what is the point? Most couples live like married couples long before even the thought sometimes. If there were no divorces, then the world would be a lot more peaceful. It is a nice thought but I know people must have that piece of paper even if it runs out after a while and the feelings are long gone. People don’t have to pay for that kind of torture, they do it to themselves by staying in decrepit situations. It could be viewed as the emotional equivalent of cutting your wrists. You just let the life flow out until there is nothing left, and as it goes, your heart continues to beat. It knows time is coming to an end but refuses to do anything about it, just watches it fade away. Mainly, people will always have this dark side. If they aren’t watching it, they are probably living it in some way. Maybe it is in human nature to never be truly happy.
3rd World vs America
Seeing countries such as the poverty stricken ones in South America and Africa amazes me. To think a government can allow its people to slowly decline and get to such a low state of being is unbelievable. I can’t understand how people who can’t take care of themselves still continue to have children, knowing they won’t be able to take care of them either. It seems that there is no end to the women having so many babies. It is also a wonder that they can even carry through their terms. With malnourishment and food shortages, there really should be a bigger hand out of birth control.
As bad as it is, you really need not leave the US to find it. In any given city you find a mother on welfare with several children, continuously living off the government. It’s just our government appears to be in a better shape. We could easily be in that shape ourselves if we continue to support people who abuse, some purposefully, the system. Just like ancient Rome where 80% of the population lived on the ‘Bread & Circuses’ welfare system which eventually swallowed their economy.
In theory it was a nice thought. We can take care of our people so they won’t want to rebel. But when you have a safety net, most people will jump. Why should I work hard if there is someone or something that will take care of me? What will it take for the human race to learn and understand history? My aunt has lived off the system since before I was born. She married my mother’s brother, who was born with heart problems, because he was unable to work and was receiving a government check. My aunt is and was fully capable of working. She has not worked another day since.She used to sell her government food hand outs for drugs and alcohol. All three of my cousins by her were addicted to some drug when they were born. They all were in the hospital for extended amounts of time and to this day have learning disabilities. As time wore on, my uncle’s condition worsened with his substance abuse. His life ended at thirty seven in March 1998.
In many ways, the horrible home life of children who grow up in the underdeveloped malnourishment and exhaustive heat of the desert is comparable to many scenario’s right here in America, including that of my cousins. My aunt and uncle would beat each other and scream, fight at each other right in front of their kids. Some of those times even included the children. There were always drugs around and never enough to eat, a very unhealthy existence. Only one of my cousins finished high school, just to get in another abusive situation and have a baby at a young age. It seems no matter where you go in the world, there will always be this epidemic going on. Will there ever be anything that could possible be done to change people? Or, is this just a part of human nature that no one can control? That, in itself, is the saddest thought of all.
As bad as it is, you really need not leave the US to find it. In any given city you find a mother on welfare with several children, continuously living off the government. It’s just our government appears to be in a better shape. We could easily be in that shape ourselves if we continue to support people who abuse, some purposefully, the system. Just like ancient Rome where 80% of the population lived on the ‘Bread & Circuses’ welfare system which eventually swallowed their economy.
In theory it was a nice thought. We can take care of our people so they won’t want to rebel. But when you have a safety net, most people will jump. Why should I work hard if there is someone or something that will take care of me? What will it take for the human race to learn and understand history? My aunt has lived off the system since before I was born. She married my mother’s brother, who was born with heart problems, because he was unable to work and was receiving a government check. My aunt is and was fully capable of working. She has not worked another day since.She used to sell her government food hand outs for drugs and alcohol. All three of my cousins by her were addicted to some drug when they were born. They all were in the hospital for extended amounts of time and to this day have learning disabilities. As time wore on, my uncle’s condition worsened with his substance abuse. His life ended at thirty seven in March 1998.
In many ways, the horrible home life of children who grow up in the underdeveloped malnourishment and exhaustive heat of the desert is comparable to many scenario’s right here in America, including that of my cousins. My aunt and uncle would beat each other and scream, fight at each other right in front of their kids. Some of those times even included the children. There were always drugs around and never enough to eat, a very unhealthy existence. Only one of my cousins finished high school, just to get in another abusive situation and have a baby at a young age. It seems no matter where you go in the world, there will always be this epidemic going on. Will there ever be anything that could possible be done to change people? Or, is this just a part of human nature that no one can control? That, in itself, is the saddest thought of all.
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