Undesirable Compilations

So you're rummaging through your old books and come across a novel by one of your favorite authors. You realize you're sure you have read the book in the past at some point, and some of the story seems familiar, but cannot seem to recall the how the story ends. With enticing curiousity you decide to read the book again, knowing you enjoy the author thoroughly. What ensues is an engrossing journey through a novel you have some recollection of, but still cannot fathom the climax. However, as the last chapter unfolds, you realize traumatically that you detested the ending one hundred percent. The complete narrative kept you enthralled throughout the whole book, but the denouement was utterly horrendous. With total chagrin you discern that life would have been much better had you not even picked up the book again in the first place. You should have been quite content maintaining a conviction of acceptance that the author would not leave you feeling such dissatisfaction. Sadder yet, you now remember the feeling of unfulfillment from the first delivery. With certain contempt, you donate the book to the local library hoping someone may genuinely appreciate your discard, and also desiring the memory of such dissapointment may be struck from your subconscious. You however will never read another of this author's work within that genre in fear of further vain expectations. In fact, it may be some time before you read any of his work again. So painstakingly disheartening considering such an amazing author.

It may have been an odd analogy, but have you ever felt this way about a relationship? One which ended slightly vexed some time ago, yet you felt compelled to try it once again, only to leave you twice as dejected, but unable to let go of the basis of friendship which held you together to begin with?

I, for one, could never give up on my favorite author, who's writing captivates me. However, I will never read another story delving into the romance style again.

Secondary Personalities

Well, it's funny you should ask... Wait, you didn't ask, did you?

Damn these voices in my head again, speaking in proverbial tongues, telling me I should discard this positive outlet and say... well, fuck it. You know you were destined to be a cynic, just face it.

Now that I am entirely disconnected from the world I know and am used to, the world of debauchery and hedonism I have come to embrace, I was faced with a decision to better my life.... Better my life? WTF? Gee, I think in that case I may need to get a new one. Lets see. Three men I've loved in my life. One was in high school and I was apprehensive of building a "life" at 16... One I left 2 and a half years ago in search of "myself". And one who seems to enjoy sleeping with his other "girlfriends" instead of me. Yes, just sleeping, so I've been told, but the sardonic side of me gives in once again and my gut tells me, who am I kidding... No, wait, who AM I kidding? He loves me, but will never "love" me. Why, because he wants to keep the life he has now and would hate for it to be complicated with someone he may have to introduce as his... gulp... Girlfriend. Makes me sound like a typical woman. Call me anything but a fucking typical woman. Truly the best way to piss me off. Besides, I seem to be attracted to the ones that play the hardest to get. Hmmm, maybe he figured that out long before I did.

Sex? Well, thank god for batteries at this point. Granted, I could get laid if I really wanted but the best sex is 2000 some miles away in a frozen land of work and disillusionment (jesus, is that even a word), and besides, I must have only been using him for sex since there seems to be no other affection from his end.

Money? Hehe. Yeah, enough to pay for my food, clothes, drinking binges and ski trips. What more could I ask for? Except maybe a long vacation somewhere warm away from this rut of normalcy. Wait, that's what the mushrooms were for.

Health? Somewhat, though I know I could take immensely better care of myself. But then, at this point, I'd find it much more appealing to get fall down drunk at the PartyFarm for a few days and forget about being in shape.

Family? Well, they do still love me, and I them. But the more I spend with them, I see them as the majority of this country. Thinking of themselves, in their own little world and judging those around them. People ask me why its so bad for me to come home... Coming home encompasses much more than this house I helped build and a close proximity to my grandmother whose 90th birthday is fast approaching. It also includes a vast array of other deprived twenty somethings who've lost their way and come back to "regain momentum". Not to mention the ones who have never left. Those that thrive amongst their own philanderings and have absolutely nothing of value to speak of save for what the neighbour did yesterday and who got drunk and told Martha she was a cunt. Wait, I take that back about my family. They are amazingly sweet and understanding people who have a much higher intelligence and degree of tact than the rest of this community. Nonetheless, I can't wait for winter to be over to get the hell out of dodge.

Intelligence? Nope, threw that away a moment ago when I went back to being me again.

Hope? Slipping away, hence the rant clearly straying from any positivity whatsoever.

Dreams? Maybe I should just go to sleep now and hope for some intelligent dream to pass me by, give me some direction, some sort of hope, bless my family with good health, wealth and love. And with any luck the next dream to come in the wee hours of the morning may bring me some form of sexual gratification and open my eyes to the fact that I'm merely chasing my tail.

Oh, and by the way... I fucking hate Valentines now. If you happen to see Cupid, shove that arrow up his ass.

There. I feel much better now. Who the hell wrote the last few posts?

The Good, The Bad and the Best

How is it that some people go through life as if nothing could ever go drastically wrong and they travel on as if everything is worth a smile and a thank you? And others seem to believe the world owes them the works. They perceive that each and every person is at their disposal, they never do anything inappropriate, and their children are just as perfect as they are. These seem to be the same people who think their children are overweight as a result of the school they attend serving crap in the cafeteria, not because they allow them to perch themselves before the bloody X-Box for hours on end with an endless supply of Cheezies to injest and absolutely no physical activity to keep them in good health. Only to proclaim with utter asininity, "The instructor wouldn't help him" and in the same breath confess this same child refuses to try. But it's still my fault her child is 40 pounds heavier than healthy and won't climb even half the hill I climbed 50 times the day before. And believe me, I'm not in supermodel shape and can't run for a mile without my lungs bursting, but I was never afraid of a little hard work, especially to learn a new sport.

I too am learning something new every day. I am slowly recognizing that each child is a close replica of their parent and it is unbelievable how sad some children of this generation are becoming due to the coddling of their parents and the complete disregard that their child is NOT the best at everything and will never be without a little exertion. It takes hard work at anything to be good at it, but if you're unwilling to even TRY, then there's no way you can ever succeed. But then, I guess it is my fault for not dropping the other 5 kids with an amazing desire to learn a new sport and babying the boy who just CAN'T do it. Guess I should have made the class stand around at the bottom of the hill and kick snow around whining and crying until we all went home in frustration. And I guess I should have let the kid who couldn't stop without falling down, ride the T-bar so his mom wouldn't have thrown a temper tantrum like a two-year-old. Maybe I was supposed to get down and beg for them to stay so that later in the day he could have taken out another skier and we could have sent both away in an ambulance.

I am sorry for my rant today, but it appears that sadly enough, the most pretentious parents are the ones who've stuck in my mind above all. I could mention the parents of the others in the group who praised me for a job well done and were amazed at how well their children followed my direction and really progressed with their abilities. Then there are the parents with the little boy we DID have to send away in the ambulance who praised our first aid skills and recognized our attempts at getting their son to practice on easier hills. They realized it was he that didn't listen and ended up in the hospital fitted with a brand new leg cast. And as for the rest... Out of 75 people who had a tremendously fun day, if only 2 went away disappointed, not in our lack of effort, but in their own, then I think very highly of our staff (of 5 to be exact) and revel in a job very well done.

On another slightly bittersweet note, I now understand the true feeling of isolation from good friends. I know one person who can relate one hundred percent when I say there was a fabulous farm party this weekend where I was sadly missed, but nonetheless, remembered. When the phone rings and you have 8 wonderful friends wanting you to be with them, you realize you are truly blessed with the honor of friendship far beyond your wildest dreams. Only wish I could have been there, though I was in spirit...

Recognition

Funny that I would allow children to renew my faith in this civilization. I should have learned by now that just when I think everything is falling apart, it all tends to come back together. Well, some fragments of these idiosyncrasies I deem "life". The longer I live, the more I realize that life has a funny way of redeeming itself just when you need it the most. Granted, my love life is non-existent, but I am much more focused and willing to deal with challenges far beyond menial crap that brings me down. I truly welcome the chaos associated with 70 energetic kids who can think of nothing but the fact that they get to ski for a day rather than sit at their desks. The old part of me would assume a Homeresque stance, prepared to throttle each and every one who suspended themselves at the end of my last nerves. Instead, I found myself having even more fun than the majority and adapting to become a wired, pre-pubescent child with a penchant for becoming a speed demon. Not to mention, I can't recall a time in elementary or junior high where we had a Phys Ed teacher worthy of every girl's idyllic fantasies... Okay, maybe that's just me.

Nonetheless, I do not require a desperate search for a new career at this moment, nor do I feel as discouraged in life as I did a few days ago. Nothing should have such power over me to create tears or frustration beyond huge misfortune. No men, no loneliness, no fears should harm my strength through adversity. Besides, who could be dispirited when they can spend 4 fours on the slopes passing down a passion for the greatest sport in Canada.

Terminal Despondency

"Working to establish a more comfortable style of survival has grown to feel complete in and of itself as a reason to live, and we've gradually, methodically forgotten our original question... That we still don't know what we're surviving for."

When I finished the Celestine Prophecy for the second time since high school I felt invariably preoccupied with my objective in life. Granted, I'm sure everyone goes through such phases where you feel there must be an ultimate reason for being here. For existing in the circumstances we place ourselves in. But lately I've found that I am utterly absorbed in the search for some ulterior motive within my state of being. Living just to get through life. My mother made a comment not so long ago about her life feeling so mundane. She summed up my life in one word. Mundane; normal, ordinary, everyday, tedious, monotonous, dull. Mundane. What a rude word when you ponder it. Yet, I'm beginning to recognize my life of mediocrity and I can't say I'm overly inspired by such a comprehension. Fortunately, I have come to this understanding at a young age. So the next step would evidently be to determine the favorable path I should choose.

As it is obvious by the dates of these compositions, that I have not posted a single thing since the initial attempt. Now, one might view this as mere laziness, or perhaps a life of chaos in which there is no time to express new thoughts. In truth, I have actually written since then, but have not posted due to the fact that I cannot seem to be positive. Considering I began this with the intent to be positive and confident, I don't think anything that I've journalized in the past few weeks could be deemed worthy of such relation. Not to be misunderstood, however, as I'm not a purely cynical or depressed being, but every time I venture a step forward in life, I seem to end up two steps behind.

I am in dire need of discovering some form of direction to follow through my life. By all means, I am not hard done by. I have a family who loves me and are willing to help me through tough times. I have friends who ceaselessly keep an everlasting smile upon my face and consistently remedy any pain life causes me. I have a beautiful smile, a relatively sound mind, and my health to carry me through. I have countless entities in life in which to be thankful for, and yet here I am, feeling alone and truly sad. It has been a while since I felt this way, but events leading up to such despondency inevitably continue to pour down upon me. One bad morning led to a worse afternoon, and culminated with a terrible evening. To make things worse, my job and my temporary place in life is threatened by situations completely beyond my control. There are few things I hate more than lack of control of circumstances in my life. I have no permanent residence at this time, no job security thus no financial stability and my heart belongs to someone who regards it with utter neglect. My income is dependent on the weather which is non-cooperative, and my love life is subject to past occurrences which were detrimental to any future outlook on his part, though sadly enough, directly inhibiting to my efforts. As for income, I am not overly concerned as I am an intellectual woman and will find some form of employment, but the love part has brought me much disconcertment. I have concluded within myself that I am evidently a true sucker for punishment. The sensible resolution would be to forget about what wrenches my heart and heal it by engrossing myself within a new objective, but this is immensely easier said than done and I have learned that I cannot deny what my heart feels. You wouldn't believe how much that pisses me off.

So here I stand. I have obviously abolished my original plan for the plus side and once again returned to the negative. Funny thing is, I was getting along quite well considering, and now I feel like I am farther back down than where I began. I don't suppose it is a great week to quit smoking anymore.

Nonetheless, I should endeavor to accomplish something productive rather than sit here lamenting my insignificant woes. For anyone who has read this, I must apologize. My life isn't even remotely close to the unfortunate lives some people are forced to live. Just lately, I have no one I can talk to and I think that realization is more disheartening than any.