This journal wanders about. It's poetry, reflections, snippets from other stories and ideas of others, and my own pot luck thoughts reflecting the transparent thinking of this post-traumatically stressed, majorly depressed social phobic before and after my breakdown.

January 7, 2011

riddles of my discontent

When suddenly nothing makes sense. Not the philosophy i have tried to live by; not even some of values i embraced. I remember the day perfectly when i threw my phone headset on the desk after having been screamed at by an angry parent for ten minutes and I just stared, stared and figured out that none of what i thought should happen in my work, would ever happen. It was very disheartening. Changed my whole energy level. Every one must go through this, i suppose at various times but this last one - as we say, the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back. It was also very numbing.

i was soured by a cynical mother and inclination years ago. i could never settle the argument surrounding compliance and freedom and i'm sure disappointed my parents several (many) times but Knowledge is power except we all know the power landscape is made up of corporate profit interests rather than reflection on the inclusive wisdom of the ages. So how can i be compliant? I chaff against the futility of institutions and feel physically ill knowing that 'only the rich and powerful' lead us forward and, o, yes, and also the goofy guys who invent things like "Facebook". After all that fussing and dreaming and hoping and half-knowing from my youth, now i am resigned and that is somewhat sad and sometimes a blessing. all i can do. Resign. Not literally but take a deep breath and say, "ommmmmmmmmmmmmmm". Possibly take a Tai Chi class. Go back to church? Something spiritual where the reality of not seeing

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