Resisting The Impulse

My life lately seems to just be the poster child for resisting the impulse to act rashly.  I want to act on my rage, I want to act on my panic,  I want to act on my passion, I want to act on temptations, I want to act on my discipline and my desire to make progress in life, I want to act on compassion, I want to act on indifference.

I appear to be controlling the desire to act on what may be negative impulses.  I appear to be resisting the impulse to act out.  But what may actually be happening is this:  My impulses are keeping me from doing anything.  I’m stuck and buzzing with the feeling I should do something, but I have a counter-impulse that keeps the first impulse under control.

So when I have the impulse to tell the boss and the company they can go fuck themselves because of the way they’re treating me, I have the counter impulse that says I need a job, and job is better than no job.  So when I have the impulse to find some stress relief somewhere to just relax, I have tasks that force me to not be able to relax.  So when I feel the urge to sleep, I have the brain that says, maybe later.  Or not.

It’s an election year.  It would be nice to know who to vote for because they’re good, but instead, they’re all shit and you have to pick the ones you think is going to do the least damage.  Which is why when I’m voting for one party’s presidential idiot…candidate,  I vote for the other party’s congressional candidates, to keep them from furthering their harmful agendas.  Lately, and by that I mean for the past twenty or thirty years, that hasn’t been working so good.  Yeah, I’ve probably been voting for twenty or thirty years.

It’s possible that my life is demonstrating this text.  (or not).  Yeah, click it, you’ll probably either laugh or ask yourself “what the fuck did I just read?!”  It’s not a good  “in my own words,” but if I were writing that, I might say this:  I want to do good and positive things, but everything I try to do only turns out to be more shit.

It’s possible I have every impulse known to mankind, and they’re all in perfect balance, preventing me from actually doing anything.  A bit like genius Matt Groening’s delightful Mr. Burns and his diseases:

Like my poem from the other day, I need to put one foot in front of the other one. Except every time I feel like i might be making progress,some shit happens to take that progress away. So it isn’t a good thing to me. Or maybe it’s fine.

It would really feel good to tell the boss exactly how I feel, but instead yesterday I worked my ass off again because I don’t want to give her or the company any ammunition they could use against me.  Fuckers.  I’m going back to do the same again.  Because I want to stay home and do fuck all.  But instead, I’ll get home after work and do the thing scheduled for tonight instead of reading all your blogs and catching up and trying to make encouraging comments and deleting my excess emails.  Because my progress continues to take a back seat to everything that has to be done.  I don’t have the resources to do what I want, so I have to do what I have to do and not do what I want to do.

Confused yet?  Well so am I.  So I’m going to work.  Sorry everyone!  I hope, despite my stuck situation, that you all make good progress today.  I’ll try to put a dent in something other than my car or my head.  Oh, I hit my head yesterday, too.  Maybe I just hit it too hard, but I feel fine.  Really.

Have a great day!


The Value of Our Lives

There are days when I am powerless, hopeless, worthless,
If I had a dream it would be found drowning in an abscess,
Stuck in the mud like a shoe that’s untied
A treasure that’s lost like every tear I’ve ever cried,

And then there are the times when I know I can win, when
I re-dream my daydreams, and life seems calm like zen,
I feel orderly, time is mine to harness then
A bite at a time, slow, and I could eat an elephant,

The world spins in its’ sins, and I may wake up tomorrow
When lows come back again I know, I go, progress too slow
Powerlessness, my hopelessness and worthlessness haunting me
My courage held hostage to pain and anxiety,

But what makes me feel more important than progress
Is who I matter to.  If that’s you, then please say “yes!”
‘Cause I probably could do this with or without you,
But I’m less inspired every time I lose even one of you.

I count if you count me, see, because it’s just you and me,
I count you, count on you, because we’ve got history
Family, you and me have to see how much we matter
Look around, and see how losing one makes us so much sadder

And that’s why you and I aren’t worthless.  We’re priceless!
Don’t let go, though we know it’s hard through life’s crisis.
We feel powerless in this mess, too much stressing,
But we have each other to lift up with blessing,

Without you I’m worthless, I lose what the point is,
No one to value me, your heart’s where my treasure is
Without me you could be just fine, sure, possibly,
But if we’re together, think of the possibilities.

You may think you’re worthless, and useless, and stupid,
And then want to end it like nothing mattered, but you did.
The real treasures I’ve lost caused almost every tear I’ve ever cried,
And be sure I think you’re a treasure I hold with pride.

This’ll scare everybody away. Dare you to watch.

I wasn’t going to write anything today so I was just surfing and ran across this.  So, I watched it.  And I dare all ten of the writers who think my writing is interesting to watch the whole thing.  You can ridicule it later if you want, but only after watching the whole thing.  If you want to start with ridicule, don’t bother to start watching.

If you must cheat, you may start at 3:45.

I have my own opinions of the man Billy Graham, and my own perspective of the God he serves and the message he preaches.  And you can have yours.  But I wanted you to hear this.  I felt it was important for today.  Mr Graham has been sharing this message since he was young, and now he is old and still hasn’t changed his message and I respect that.  A lot of the people that I follow on WordPress are gifted, beautiful writers who I really think struggle with unseen spiritual forces, like I do, and sure, some are probably suffering chemical imbalances too.  Laugh, it’s fine, I don’t judge you for it.  I have to admit, it seems ridiculous sometimes, but I haven’t found anything better than hope in Jesus.

I’ve found a measure of hope and truth I don’t hear elsewhere, not in religion, not in my works, and maybe someone else needs this today.  I don’t put much stock in Christians, but Christ, I’ll try to follow, in my own messed up way.  And in my own messed up way, I’m also praying for those who might actually listen to the whole thing.

I’m Deon, I’m a personal failure and a complete mess, and I approved this message.