Artifacts of a Life Once Lived

today in class my prof. put up on the projector a ppt. slide containing several words, most of which were tension words, words involving intense emotional, psychological, and mental processes, such words as 'broken', 'despair', 'weak', etc. and we were asked to pick a word with which we identified most. quite honestly none of the words really spoke to my personal paradigm perfectly, so i thought, what word would identify most with me, so i pondered, and finally it appeared, 'scattered'. scattered is the state of my brain. my mind has so much to deal with i cannot even begin to sort priorities versus non-priority needless to mention any other event which might find importance. i have so many thoughts each day, thoughts which require my attention, thoughts that will change the way i live, thoughts that, if i write down, might be worth something some day. nonetheless, the purpose of my prof. was to show that when learning is done in tension there is necessa

People ask all sorts of questions about themselves. i know this because i am a people, i ask questions about myself all the time, so i wonder that the same is true about everyone else, even the cynic introverted manic depressant cares about asking questions about themselves. most people, i think, ask questions about themselves that pertain mainly to the way that other people think about them. seriously, you see the picture... i am asking questions about myself wondering what others think about me, those same people are asking questions about themselves concerning what i think about them... so in the end we all act in the way which we believe will place a better light on ourselves in the eyes of other people who are concerned what i think about them. there is no end to this game, because people not only are worried about what others think about them, but they also want other people to think that they are less of a person than them. So I want you to think about me favorably, but also I w

there is an angst in my heart, the origin of which i do not know, its always nagging. an unrest of sorts, i lie awake thinking about it, but for no reason because its purpose escapes my understanding. its not anxiety, though at times i do feel anxiety, this is different. its like a lonliness of being, like an unsettledness of life... its not that im not happy, its that i have this angst and i dont know why. i feel, and i feel but feeling cannot grasp the burning, its as the angst evades any knowing. i have all kinds of ideas, maybe a longing for companionship, a longing for recognition, a longing to be heard, a longing to break out of my mold of complacency, a yearning for true purpose, all of these together maybe. i feel angst when i watch t.v. probably because i know i am simply waisting my life starring mindlessly at mass quantities of images. i feel angst when i go down to sleep. maybe because i know i have failed to satisfy my angst that day thus i cannot allow myself to sleep un

stages, they are important, in plays, shows, concerts, and in life. so i have been trying to evaluate my life stage to see if there is any correlation between the way i view life and the way i live life. quite frankly my view of life is cumbersome. at my stage life seems difficult, a burden, i feel pressure to conform to a society which says if i conform i will be successful, but in the end they just want my money. im tired already. i have little energy to live life. how unfortunate you may say, especially since you are a "Christian" because "Christs yoke is easy," ... right... compared to what? there is nothing easy about taking on a worldview and way of life that is completely opposite to that which my nature feels and desires. any way, my life stage... right, where from here? as i sit here and type seemingly meaningless signs which turn into words and ultimately sentences which somehow give meaning to coherent phrases and statements i wonder, what am i? what is m

im not confused. im not lost. im failing. my failure drows me. its an anchor pulling be with every turn of the crank. i fail and i lose my composure. i find that worth in my soul is lost. well, they say that life isnt about me and i never thought it was for a second, but i struggle. is there cause to be dissatisfied with the progress of your life? the past generation would tell me to pick myself up because it was dependent upon me. they tell me life is what i make of it. to a degree i suppose there is truth, but does my situation play a part? i was not born into a rich family, rather a religious family who found little value in money and wisely so. but if life is what i make of it, could it not have been better by the simple fact of having been born into a more priviliged family? obviously so. so you cant tell me that the responsibility rests solely on me. i cant make my life better by simply trying. situations have to work, and connections must be made. now i divert, my mind begins f