I moved into my coop.
I think this post will be one that’s going to be all over the place. I haven’t blogged in a while - meaning a couple of days - but for some reason, I have a lot on my mind. It’s probably because of the couple of posts I’ve read just now or maybe I just have a lot of spare time after work to just sit in my new room and think about what I’m really doing with this life of mine…
I’m a little tired so I hope my messed up thoughts get across. I always seem to have a problem with getting people to understand me. Then again, that might be my own misconception - to constantly feel misunderstood and confused. I’m not a very good speaker and I am even worse at expressing myself through anything but art and action, and sometimes even my actions contradict each other. I’ve grown up to be a strange, wild child; I have a hard time understanding myself sometimes.
I’m pretty fucking ridiculous.
I tell people I don’t have expectations of them, that they don’t need to meet my standards - but I’m trying to force myself not to. In the end, I still hold those levels high. In the end, I still expect a bare minimum of meeting my standards. I lash out when my criteria aren’t met, so no matter how hard I try to limit myself from overriding people’s lives I still end up trying to shape them into the way I see them (or want to see them). How many people can stay after that?
But then again I think my way of thinking closely follows the way of the world. This corrupted, damned world. Every day people need to face standards forced upon them. Everyday you question what your reason for living is. Everyday life throws another fucking truck at you. You can’t succeed in life thinking you can just do whatever the hell you want - nothing works that way. There are quota you need to meet, rules you have to follow. I can’t justify my retarded way of thinking everything is based on accomplishments and cold, hard facts. But neither can the rest of the way society works. I know that I love people who can have nothing in their portfolio and I would still love them. That’s not to say I won’t worry, that’s not to say I won’t question.
I’ve never really been scared of death. That is, until I realized my greatest fear was to die unaccomplished. In our feeble world, with our insignificant lives, I live by the mantra that we need to make something of ourselves. We need to contribute to something greater than our useless existences. Even if it means investing in something as unpredictable and unstable as the future. I’m not scared of death, I’m scared of dying before I’ve gotten a chance to prove my worth.
Life isn’t proved by personalities or feeling. Our fucked up world functions on facts, lists, awards. It’s not even about talent and hard work anymore, you need skills, resumes, images, and money to back up your existence. You know those insane prodigies who hold the genius of a million artists? They don’t make it without their looks. They get their fifteen minutes of glory and fade back into oblivion. Superficiality wins over. Tell me, is that worth living for? Those fifteen minutes? I don’t understand how a world like ours that prides itself in glorifying talent can’t even give those prodigies a chance. Then what of the people that are simply dedicating their lives to work hard? To try and achieve that talent? What happens to the people that try their whole lives to prove their worth?
The truth is, it’s really up to them.
I think along the lines of the world’s system. But that doesn’t mean I think it’s alright. I think it’s fucked up. I believe that a system based on merit works, but I also believe a lot of people get lost and thrown away on the way.
I think our generation needs to be strong.
We need to make a stand in this fucked up world.
(via onmyowntwohands)