Aren’t we all racehorses to a certain extent? We eat, sleep, study, go to work, and clean up all so we can win a race at the end of all the routines. Yes, I know. Some people don’t follow routines and don’t let the MAN dictate what they do daily. Or, as Wonder Woman put it, not let a watch tell you what to do. Actually when I ran into that clip on YouTube the other day, I thought about. We let time tell us what to do. When to get up, go to bed, take a shower, eat, take a nap, go to work, etc. But is it so much time telling us what to do as our bodies? If we don’t sleep, our bodies will let us know the consequences. We are biologically programmed. (I know, a lot of times what I say doesn’t make sense, but just follow me on this.) If we don’t eat or take care of our bodies, we get sick. If we don’t have the resources to take care of ourselves, we lose the race. So we sleep, eat, go to work, and do whatever it takes to keep going in this race. We just all have different levels of motivation running through our veins and depending on the levels is what decides who excels in the race and who will be the runt of the litter. We take our water breaks when we go on vacation or take a day off from work. But as long as we are breathing, we have to keep racing.
I think how well you do also depends on if you have blinders on or not. All the comparing yourself to others slows you down. In some cases, removing the blinders for a moment makes you realize you aren’t even running the same race as the person you were comparing yourself to. Funny, huh? The joke’s on you when that happens. No one wants that to happen to them, though because then you know you’ve spent way too much time caring what other people think. So I think it would be cool if in every single lane next to us is just another version of us. In other words, if we only raced against ourselves, we would look more towards self-improvement than race against people we don’t know or an idea that only exists as fiction. It would be easier to find the best version of ourselves without all the distractions.
All kinds of people can enjoy the same music as long as it doesn’t have words. I’m thinking of classical music, but I’m sure there are others. You don’t have to speak the same language as anyone else to appreciate the same music without words. This kind of music communicates whatever it is you are feeling and thinking all without using any words. Let that sink in for a minute.
So why can’t all kinds of different people get along like they are the same kind of people? What would happen if everyone thought the same way and had the same lifestyle? The first thing I think of is how boring the world would be, but then again, maybe it wouldn’t be like that. Maybe there would be less fights and wars. At the very least, there would be more understanding, even when there are disagreements. People would understand where the other person is coming from because they’ve had the same problem before or know how exactly they feel. There would be more compassion and empathy in the world. Some people are already like this and that’s great, but everyone needs to be like this. For the world to work. For the world to be at peace. We desperately need change.
There’s a feeling you get when you know something is about to happen. But then again, something may not happen. So you question it, back and forth like a pendulum. It’s a little like nervousness and it’s a little like throwing up. I know I’m not describing this feeling very well, but I don’t think there’s a word out there for it yet. I guess you just have to be in my body feeling what I’m feeling to really know what I’m talking about. Ain’t nobody got time for that.
You’re not going to ever feel exactly what I’m feeling. But it’s okay because I’m not ever going to feel exactly what you’re feeling either. There’s not another person out there exactly like me and there’s not another person out there exactly like you. Isn’t the world a wonderful place? So knowing this it makes me sad to think someone would feel so unworthy to be in existence they end their life by their own hands. Or someone would cause physical harm to themselves. People have seriously made life a lot more complicated than it is, but then again, maybe the way I experience reality is different from the way you experience yours so who am I to judge you for how you live? But if I don’t voice it out loud, I’m still going to do it in my head whether I notice it or not. You know what I mean?
I don’t think shopping is a bad thing. But like everything else, moderation is key.
I was thinking about materialism the other day. It is generally seen as a negative thing. I know there is a dictionary definition out there, but for me, the first thing that pops into mind is someone shopping a lot and accumulating stuff to make themselves happy. They feel happy when they get something new, but they also feel happy when they can show it off to their friends. But even if they can’t show off their goods to friends, I think they are happy with the sensation of running a credit card through a slot and picking up the bag with the things they can now own as a result of the credit card. It becomes an addictive feeling to the point where it doesn’t even matter what they are buying. They just love the feeling of sliding that credit card through.
Deep down I don’t think the materialistic person doesn’t know this ultimately doesn’t bring happiness. I mean, yes, maybe in the moment, but once the moment passes, the more they look at the things they buy the more the feeling wears off. It’s not brand new anymore! I just think they are avoiding the reality of more things can’t make you more happy. There’s something else going on in their life that needs fixing and shopping is a quick fix. Then come the garage sales.
Some guys don’t know the first thing about being just friends with a girl. Vice versa as well, but I think in this case this applies to mostly guys. I think when a guy starts out trying to be just friends with a girl, he is always in it for a motive. More girls than guys are capable of being there for someone and hanging out with someone without the complications of “catching feelings” as the kids call it these days. Being just friends with someone of the opposite sex is not impossible, but a lot of times it doesn’t work out because it is hard. Feelings do get in the way.
As for me, I am hard to be friends with, period. Especially now. Life is too short to sugarcoat everything. I am a nice girl, but I can be brutally honest with people I’m close to. Why waste someone’s time making them believe everything is okay when they really need to make changes in their lives to be a better person? I’m not perfect either, but if I am able to make a suggestion to improve the quality of someone’s life, I think I should let them know if I really care about them. I say this, but even as I’m typing this, I know I struggle with being brutally honest when it is necessary. There are times you’ve got to keep your mouth shut and just let your friend fall. It’s not easy, but I don’t want to be the same kind of friend everybody else out there is like.
I think the bravest thing someone does sometimes is show up. Not go fight in a war. Not stand up to a bully. Not shoot a bow and arrow through some sort of coronation ring. Nope. Not any of those things that is typically considered a brave thing to do.
I’m talking about showing up to an event. People take one look at you and start sizing you up. You haven’t even opened your mouth yet and you are being judged by every eye in the room. At least all the sober ones. (Let’s be honest. The inebriated ones ain’t gonna remember you after it’s all over.)
I was at a party over the weekend and I felt brave for showing up. I knew the host and a couple other people on the guest list, but the majority of the people on the guest list I did not know. Right before going I had this nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach like the kind of feeling you get if you’re a quiet one like me and sitting in class hoping the teacher doesn’t call on you or the kind of nervous feeling you get before having to give an oral presentation to the class.
Showing up to a party where you don’t know most of the people is in a way, going to battle. You don’t know what these people think of you from how you act to what you say to what you’re wearing. You shouldn’t care what these people think, but there’s always a part of you that will no matter how many parties you’ve been to. Once they’ve met you, it’s all over. You can’t change what they first think of you or go back in time and make them not ever know you.
You may walk away without them remembering you, but you now exist in the world to them and there’s no way to make them think you don’t exist. Even if they forget about the party, meeting you will inevitably come back up in their memory, filed away with all the other fuzzy party memories. It just takes a key to unlock that drawer and once Tinker Bell comes flying out of there, ain’t no way of stopping a mixed up memory from surfacing, like trying to tell the difference between a thimble and a hidden kiss.
I remember getting a B on that English paper back in 12th grade, a satire, something about dead skin cells, and it was my suggestion. “Ew!” my friend said. It was her immediate reaction. I didn’t know how to tell her that I see past all the “ewness” and I love it. I deal with stuff that’s not so pretty all the time. It’s a gift. Dealing with stuff that’s not so pretty is a beautiful thing and sometimes it feels like I’m one of the few people who understands this. Plus satires are meant to have gross things in them to use for exaggeration purposes and dead skin cells seemed like the perfect touch. I even kind of remember my English teacher commenting on the paper that she liked it. But who knows. My brain could be making up that memory just because it seems like that memory would make sense. I bet some Psych major out there knows exactly what this is called. But I’m no Psych major. I’m just the girl who can not flinch when people talk about dead skin cells.