I'm so weird. I don't know why I'm like this.
Every time I meet someone new I adapt so much that I become just like them. I pick up their mannerisms, things the say and do. Their interests and it's because I assume people like to be around people like them. And I crave being liked. God knows why, people hurt other people.
I'm a collection of everyone I've ever met. I don't even know who I am any more. Anything I do or say I have to double guess, "Is this for me or for everyone else?" And most times I don't know the answer.
Friday, July 20, 2012
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
Babies.
I'm not a parent. I don't ever want to be but I am human and I observe parents and the way the interact with their children. The way you speak to your kid can really affect how they're going to grow up. If you constantly TELL them what to do and are always mad because they don't seem to automatically KNOW what to do then you should probably just knock yourself off now because we don't need your genes in the gene pool anymore.
I saw a lady get her son to put some products on the counter in the most demeaning way. She didn't ask him. She yelled at him to put them on the counter. She chastised him for literally no reason. So when the purchase was complete she yelled at him to put them back in the trolley. She treated her child like he had no brain then got mad at him when he didn't think for himself. For fuck's sake that pisses me off. If you want your child to think for themselves and show some initiative let them make some mistakes and learn. How could you POSSIBLY expect your kid to grow up and do things for themselves if you're looking over their shoulder yelling at them to do something and yelling at them if they do it wrong.
Sometimes I think I'd make a great fucking parent.
But then again I think I'm kinda better at everything than anyone. It's not my fault I'm proven right most of the time.
I saw a lady get her son to put some products on the counter in the most demeaning way. She didn't ask him. She yelled at him to put them on the counter. She chastised him for literally no reason. So when the purchase was complete she yelled at him to put them back in the trolley. She treated her child like he had no brain then got mad at him when he didn't think for himself. For fuck's sake that pisses me off. If you want your child to think for themselves and show some initiative let them make some mistakes and learn. How could you POSSIBLY expect your kid to grow up and do things for themselves if you're looking over their shoulder yelling at them to do something and yelling at them if they do it wrong.
Sometimes I think I'd make a great fucking parent.
But then again I think I'm kinda better at everything than anyone. It's not my fault I'm proven right most of the time.
The calm before the storm.
Everything is calm.
I'm at a beach and everything is calm. The sun isn't too intense, the breeze isn't too strong and the clouds move at a rate that gives me alternating shade and sun time. I can see the storm that has just passed. I can see the damage it has done and the people trying to fix it all. The smell of rain still lingers and makes the air slightly moist.
As the storm moves further and further away I look to the sea, to the horizon, a definitive line between air and water and I wander what is waiting for me. I'm scared to move in case it hastens the next storm or brings the old one back. I'm scared my subconscious, which is still drunk from the last down pour, is waking and banging on the four walls of the windowless room I've locked him in. He's growing weary and his fits are becoming more aggressive. Any attempts I make to calm him are futile; my words fall on deaf ears.
The wind picks up and blows my hair around, whipping my face and neck. I know there will be another storm but I want to build a fortress that it can't ever break down. I hope that there is enough time. I hope that I can have some help, some support in building it, let me stand on my two feet, regain my balance and face the next storm recharged and ready to fight. The storm devastated my little, peaceful town once and I can't have it happen again. The foundations of this town are cracking and one more storm could wipe it out completely. Leaving nothing but a sandy reach, a desolate place where no one goes.
I'm at a beach and everything is calm. The sun isn't too intense, the breeze isn't too strong and the clouds move at a rate that gives me alternating shade and sun time. I can see the storm that has just passed. I can see the damage it has done and the people trying to fix it all. The smell of rain still lingers and makes the air slightly moist.
As the storm moves further and further away I look to the sea, to the horizon, a definitive line between air and water and I wander what is waiting for me. I'm scared to move in case it hastens the next storm or brings the old one back. I'm scared my subconscious, which is still drunk from the last down pour, is waking and banging on the four walls of the windowless room I've locked him in. He's growing weary and his fits are becoming more aggressive. Any attempts I make to calm him are futile; my words fall on deaf ears.
The wind picks up and blows my hair around, whipping my face and neck. I know there will be another storm but I want to build a fortress that it can't ever break down. I hope that there is enough time. I hope that I can have some help, some support in building it, let me stand on my two feet, regain my balance and face the next storm recharged and ready to fight. The storm devastated my little, peaceful town once and I can't have it happen again. The foundations of this town are cracking and one more storm could wipe it out completely. Leaving nothing but a sandy reach, a desolate place where no one goes.
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