Storytime... (KISS)

...the twisted little way I have of writing...

Tuesday, February 08, 2011

Loaded Questions 02

I actually thought about this in a way last night. I know everyone has a bit of criminal in them. I think it's rooted in the basic human desire to rebel. At least the basic American desire to. And I think it's almost predictable when a person is a child, in what way this could manifest itself. That is if one really looks at what personality is forming in that child in grade school. I knew several kids had a desire to see what would happen if they pulled the fire alarm, but the few that didn't have the impulse control back then to not pull the damn thing have ended up being drug addicts or have manifested some other form of impusle control disorders.

Whether or not impulse control should be a crime however, is another topic of discussion entirely. I, however had an intense intrest in both creation, manipulation and money. Chemestry was my dark secrets intrest. It only made sense I was caught up in the allure of chemistry and what certain more interesting chemicals do to the brain in the right concentrations and combinations. It's potential to manipulate others seemed far to intersting to me to be left alone. I had to learn for myself how ever I could. The only book I had available on the subject was the real world though. And when reality itself was far too abundant in my life I did my best to remove my burden. It wasn't about the money and manipulation anymore. While I did enjoy trading for favors of various kinds, mine was purely a desire to let go of the interest which was consuming me. I saw a glimpse of where I could be going and of the two paths I saw I liked neither. I haven't watched America's most wanted since the realization. Come to think of it.

I sat there in the driver seat incapable of going anywhere. Already dead inside and out and strung out as a crack whore poorly used and badly broken. I could not think I could not move. In a flash of coherence my only thought was of a need which to a competent mind would seem stupid and unappetizing. I'd have done anything for it. I'd have sacrificed my life gladly hust to feel good for a moment. And life is full of those moments, where sacrifise is too small a price to pay. It is what drives us to the next milestone, again and again. And at the moment moving my arm to my face was a feat equal to building the pyramids. Lighting something which burned me. I did not notice nor care about the burn. I was unconcious and when I woke I wondered where it had gone. I chastised myself in my brief coherence for my appearance. Saggy and empty inside.

Flash to dreams of winning a gold medal for prowess in a long trained for, difficult and self disciplined exercise of concentration and patience. I believe that fortitude itself should be an olympic sport, but every man is capable of greatness only if he can nurture his own fortitude. In us the desire to achieve the highest marks or at least to have recognition as being one of the foremose competitors is both strong and motivating as well as daunting and scary. Success hinges on the ability at an early age to discern what society has labeled as productive obsessions and the fortitude to assert one's will against the temptations we all feel.

I think of the crack-whore in us all who is victim of temptation; and I think of the Einestein in us all whose obsession with and extreme focus on finding an answer, almost autistic in nature, is victim of temptation as well. How can certain foci be labeled good? For us... For society... just good. Others, obsessions they are called; lead some to jail, the poor house, and early grave... There is a solution in using the temptations as motivation to learn patience and temperance. Oh what a fine line it would be to balance between witholding one's freedoms and providing the proverbial cartrot at the end of the stick. I think that's where consent and desire come into the legal system. Pursuit of happiness and the nonsense that is imposed upon that pursuit.
Oh but I digress.

We were all, at one point, the innocent child with our hand in the cookie jar. Our favourite, gooey and warm, rasins soft and chewy. Being told to wait 'til after dinner while the voice in our head whines that they won't still be gooey and soft and warm after dinner. We are all tempted. We rationalize. And for everything; good, bad or ugly. We rationalize at least for our own morbid self sastisfaction, that we are not bad. That someone loves and supports us because we are not bad.

I too have made mistakes. I am not perfect. I am me. And despite what others say to be hurtful; I am not bad.


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