|This is NOT my nightstand, but I wish it was...seems like fun.|
I keep scrap paper and pens on my nightstand at all times. Quite often, as I'm trying to unwind my brain after a day, and go the f*ck to sleep, random thoughts get stuck or come up and I have to write them down. This either kills the thought, or reserves it for the next day when I can go back to it.
Today is squirrely. I woke up to a piece of paper with writing on it and I have no recollection of scribbling the words, at any point, all night long. Additionally, I misspelled a word in my sleep, and frankly, that's what I find most troubling. Here's what I wrote:
I look around and I see insecurity and weackness masquerading as self righteous indignation and so much puffery.There are a multitude of things running in my head lately, as usual. It's bothered me how vicious and "base" people got when Jerry Sandusky's verdict was delivered. It made me think of how awful and cruel our "justice" system is and how that man will be purged of his humanity in no time at all and how much the normally loving, caring and peace-minded people around me were frothing at the mouth while thinking up ways to torture and debase him even more. The stuff of cartoons...because taking a fundamentally sick person and shoving them into a cage where they get no help and no treatment is a great way to meet out justice.
How could we be so horrified at children bullying a grandmother on a bus when in the same week we were devising ways to mutilate a sick man's body? Can anyone else out there see the hypocrisy in that?
It's been bugging me lately that we spend weeks and weeks praising old singers, once they've died, for the contributions they made but within moments forget that child trafficking is taking place all around us, in every town and city, all over the world. No doubt, there's zero fun to be had in the muck and mire of reality, so we choose to steer clear of it.
Instead we focus on the fringes of our torn up garment. It's simpler to point a finger at the cloth and denigrate the maker of the thread, the sewer, the distributor. Who really ever wants to look right back at themselves and say, "Yeah, but I'm the idiot who BOUGHT it!"? That's an uncomfortable thing to do at best and downright mortifying at worst.
I'm insecure; HUGELY so. Every time I post one of these I think, "Well, this is it. Certainly there's nothing good left, because I am a fraud and eventually someone's going to figure that out." Every time I write anything, for anyone, that's what I think. It's what I think when I leave my house, dressed up for any function: I'm out of my element and someone's going to notice.
And I'm weak. I make mistakes over and over again, unable to learn the lesson until I'm black and blue from its message. Wrong choices seem absolutely correct until I stand back 3 inches and see that, clearly, they're not. But how often do I take time to stand back and evaluate my OWN choices, when that means I might see that some of them are wrong?
If a person admits they've made wrong choices, thought wrong thoughts, been closed-minded and all puffed up, what is that really saying? Do our insecurities and weaknesses allow for a moment that bare? Fundamentally, I don't believe there is weakness in taking honest looks and saying, "I was wrong." I think it takes a stronger person to reflect and be willing to see error than a self righteous puffball, bouncing around spewing their diatribes of derision.
Maybe I was talking to myself. Perhaps I am the self righteous one who needs to calm down and let go of the hot air. If that's case, well...crap. This whole post has been a waste and just proof that I'm a fraud with nothing left to offer. Let me stand back 3 inches and I'll let you know.