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First Step [Mar. 29th, 2009|11:49 pm]
So I've taken to reading The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People.  I'm going to admit that when I first picked it up, I felt like a tool.  By now, the book feels like a cliche.  I've heard so much about it, and while I was curious in the past, I generally dismissed it as a quick-fix tool: "Just do this and you will find happiness and success!"  I figured it was someone exploiting the general hopefulness and laziness of people in order to make a buck.  

However, upon reading it, I was rather delighted by what I found.  One of the first points made in the book is that quick-fixes don't work and to expect hard work if you want to succeed in anything.  That was refreshing, so I continued reading.

Before I ever picked it up, I focused on my goals and dreams and tried to figure out how to bring them about.  I decided I wasn't going to be trapped in the same dark hole most of my family and their neighbors reside in.  I decided that I could make my own future, that there were always possibilities out there as long as I was determined to find them and take them and, if necessary, make them.  However, I've still faltered, and while I've progressed, I'm still not where I want to be.

One of the main points in this book is mindset.  Focus on what you can change and realize what you can't change.  Realize what your mindset is.  That is the big one.  That's the first step.  Get a good grip on your mindset, discover what your perception actually is.  From there, you can realize what's in your control and what isn't and how you can react to these things.  Sounds simple, right?  Now keep that level of control in mind next time you're in a traffic jam.  It would be so easy to get pissed and blame it on the traffic jam.  Really, though, isn't your mood in your range of control?  You can't control the traffic jam itself, but you can control your reaction to it.

I decided a long time ago that I have control over my life, but I didn't realize how often I say "I can't do this" or "I have to do that."  My goal for tomorrow is to go through the day and focus on how often I think that.  Today, for example, the same tired old thing happened that pisses me off every single time someone does it.  I rant and rave about it, focusing on the person's actions without taking my reaction into regard.  True, they acted that way, but do I have to react this way?  

I'm going to take some time tomorrow, focus on this, and also rewrite my goals.  I want to be a professional writer but what steps have I done to do this?  What steps have I done to realize my current goals?  While some of those goals are currently out of reach, the steps to take them are in my level of control, and by taking those steps, I can eventually achieve those goals.  I have control.  

Does this mean certain other aspects of my character are going to be pushed aside, such as dark, depressing thoughts and actions?  They may not openly further my goals, but my action of doing it and my reaction of understanding it will hopefully give my writing a deeper, more personal depth.  While being happy seems like a good goal, it also seems remarkably like a shallow goal.

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More of the same old. [Mar. 18th, 2009|08:16 pm]
In my family, I was always the dreamer.  I was always the one looking toward the future, working for so many different things.  I wanted to be so many different things.  I would look around me and swear, This isn't going to be my life.

Now I look around and realize I haven't made it anywhere.

I've always thought of that next step.  I would say to myself, This isn't where I want to be, but I'm going in that direction.  This is a step to where I Want to Be.  After a while, it earned the capital letters.  It's not all big things.  I'll look at my car and think, It's not the car I want.  It's not the car I dreamed about.  But it's a step.  One day I'll have a car that I can choose rather than grab what I can get.

When I actually stop and look around, though, it feels as if I jumped from one hamster wheel to another.  Have I actually succeeded in anything?  Have I actually done anything?  Have I made another step at all?  I feel like I'm as trapped and helpless as I ever was, and it's so easy to just hate because of that.

Every time you go to the market, there's always half a dozen magazines taunting you with stars' juicy lives, and so many people gobble those up rather than try to do anything amazing with their own lives.  I never want to end up like that.  That thought is one of the most depressing things you can imagine.

Many people think of God or some other deity, imagining that deity in their lives in reference to that next step.  They dream of the afterlife, put all their stock in that.  When you don't believe in that, when you only believe that there's this life and no more, it's easy to realize why so many people choose religion.

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I would make a great alcoholic [Jan. 19th, 2009|10:32 pm]
Another day, another day, another day.  Another day of fruitless rage and frustration and complete aimlessness.  I want to tear someone apart, feel the flesh give under my fingers, feel someone bleed.  You can always tell a Monday.

Christianity has to be among the most baffling of religions.  If a religion can be in the closet, Christianity would be.  Has any Christian ever thought really deeply on the meaning of a prayer?  Toss a coin, make a wish: that's a prayer.  It's too deep -- you can't understand it.  Denial much?  Hiding much?  When you can't answer something, always toss that in : it's beyond mortal comprehension.

Fucking pussies.

And I love hearing women defend Christianity.  Have any of you ever actually read the bible?  Go on.  Tell me it's female-friendly.  I need a laugh.

I suppose it makes sense that one of the most well-known Christian novels revolves around vanishing into closets.
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Find a reason to smile [Jan. 18th, 2009|02:44 pm]
Sometimes, I'll grab myself two ibuprofin for a headache and wonder what will happen if I toss back a handful.

Sometimes, I'm driving down the road and wonder what will happen if I suddenly jerk the wheel to the right.

Each time something like this happens, my heart pounds and I feel sick even though I hadn't done anything, just barely thought it.  It's strange and random.

I have a father who was terrified that I was going to become a Satanist, to the point of almost threatening to disown me, and at the same time, the man swears he has no particular religious affiliation.

I was known as a witch for four years in high school and only discovered this towards the end of my senior year.  That does explain why most people left me alone.

I'm know as a sweet, cute girl by most who know me now and I wonder what they would think if they actually knew me.  What would they think if they knew it hurt my lips to smile at them, no matter how automatic the smile was? 

I think of the end of my days and I don't think of Heaven or Hell or a new life or an endless garden.  I think of rotting in the ground, worms all around, perhaps an explosion of chemically-treated organs if they didn't do the coffin right.
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Mandatory Emo Poem [Jan. 6th, 2009|07:20 pm]
This is just me pretending I can be artistic.

One of the few times I'll use a cutCollapse )

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The Facets of a White Wall [Jan. 2nd, 2009|10:09 pm]
Sometimes, I really feel like something, somewhere, is laughing its ass off at me.

I've spent the evening in bed, too tired and depressed to do much else, and the only reason I dragged myself out is the beleif that two days into the new year is too early to break resolutions.

There are several different types of Americans.  There are the type that belongs firmly in AA: "I can't do it alone; I need God's help."  There are the type who say, "Fuck God.  Just give me my drugs and I can do everything just fine."  Then there is the third type: "I don't need no fucking help, whether it be God, instruction manual, or someone else's input.  I got it."

I happen to be the third type.

This journal is the only place that I actually talk about being depressed, despite the fact that I know it is a problem.  When something starts actively interfering with your life, it is a problem.  Considering how long I spent in bed just staring at a plain white wall, I'm pretty sure it's a problem.

But I don't want anyone else to know about this.  You see, with the third type, there is a definite pattern.  When there is something beyond their control, it can only be defined as a weakness, something to avoid letting anyone else know no matter the cost.

I suppose I'll see how it goes.

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The American Way [Jan. 1st, 2009|10:02 pm]
First day of the new year in Christian America.  For Pagans and certain branches of Wicca, the New Year was about two months ago.  For many others, it ranges from several days ago to later in the month, to the best of my knowledge.

I've spent the last several days reading on cutting and depression.  Cutting is bad, bad, bad unless it's done for ritualistic or religious purposes.  ...Wait.   So I can cut as long as I have a clear purpose in mind, particularly one outside of myself?  Everything is all right in the name of religion.  If it can't be done for medicinal purposes, it's still legal and proper if done for religious purposes.  I should have figured that out a while ago.  I thought of it in the context of drug use, but I didn't even think of cutting.

Wait.  Not cutting.  Self-harm isn't an acceptable term, either.  I'll have to research some more, this time actually writing down the socially acceptable term.  I suppose, if all else fails, you can always fall back on "cat scratches."
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Happy New Year [Dec. 31st, 2008|06:12 pm]
I take naps the most when I'm feeling regularly depressed, a fact that no one in my life has noticed, and I feel that there's no better time to be depressed than at the start of the new year.  They say that whatever you do at the beginning of the year is what you are going to be doing for the rest of the year.  If that is the case, then I am fucked.

I know I am Depressed, capital "D" and all.  I've known this for a while, and I have no idea what to do about it.  If it wasn't for the fact that it usually makes me too tired to write, I probably wouldn't care; however, when something stops me from writing, it tends to upset me.  I have enough outside impediments, thank you.

I also know that all these thoughts of self harm are not healthy.  However, I am not nearly as concerned about this as I am about the depression.  Self harm has never stopped me from writing.  Thoughts of it has never stopped me from writing.  People indulge in various forms of self harm all day, generally quite publicly and legally.  What is the harm (no pun intended) in my little indulgence?  

Is it wrong to be upset that no one has noticed these things about me?  Well, I suppose they don't know many key facts about me: what are two more?
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Another Day, Another Dollar [Dec. 26th, 2008|08:26 pm]
I've always taken for granted that I was going to outgrow many things, especially many teenage things.  That's what you do, right?  You drop all those hormonal teenage insecurities after a while and grow into being an "adult."  You learn, you grow, and you outgrow.

What a bunch of bullshit.

I can read old journals and point at certain lines and say, "I'm still afraid of that."  "I still fear this."  A couple of years has changed nothing in that regard, not the feeling itself nor the intensity in which the feeling is felt.  It's just a bunch of bullshit, like many of the "adult" concepts.

I still feel insecure, and I still have this feeling of fear.  It hasn't changed.

No matter how many years pass, I'm still terrified that I'm going to die alone, and no one will care.

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A Moment's Musing [Dec. 25th, 2008|07:08 pm]
Sometimes I wonder if the entire concept of self-harm is as simple as just attempting to externalize some sort of emotion.  Artists do it all the time.  Pain, joy, sadness, ecstasy...it's not usual to find paintings and writings acting as mediums for these feelings.  Is self-harm just another canvas?  And what more personal canvas can one possess than her own body? 

You hurt and hurt and hurt and more often than not, if you have control over your expression, people honestly can't tell you're suffering.  There are external tells such as one's attitude or what-not, but none of that is such an effective medium as the externalization of emotion from inside one's mind to her own body.

The whole concept is fascinating.  It makes you wonder why people look at cutters and such and can only come up with such useless terms as "pathetic."
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