Covet that Which You Hate

Song of the Day: “New Faith” by Slayer

I believe one of the 10 Holy Commandments is that thou shalt not covet something something. Honestly I never really cared enough about church or the seemingly incessant string of Sunday School classes to actually memorize the 10 Commandments. I was very young during the period when my parents forced me to go to church, so I don’t remember very much. What I do remember is the candles they would light once a year, at the end of which there would be a holiday (I think it was Easter), constantly day-dreaming during mass, absolutely hating the fact that I was given homework for Sunday school and the fact that I still had to ask my parents how to spell my own name, and last, but certainly not least, the fact that my father would either leave mass 20 minutes early or simply not come at all. I don’t know how that has effected me as I have become an adult, but for some reason or another that memory has stuck with me. Maybe it is because I didn’t want to be there just as much as he didn’t.

I am an Atheist. I don’t believe in God. I don’t believe in the story of creation. I don’t believe that there is some higher power that put us in the place that we all find ourselves in. I believe in science, biology, and evolution. When I really think about it, I use this fact to make myself feel superior to those people who believe that higher power which I so vehemently disdain. I find myself ridiculing those people who have such naivety to actually believe that there is a master to all of creation. But I know in my heart that that’s not right. It’s not right to disrespect someone who has a different belief structure as yourself. Isn’t that how the Crusades started? I know that evolution happened, it is a scientific fact. But to the next person, the church-going, bible-hugging wayfarer, that is not the case. This person knows that God is a real entity in one way or another, and despite all of the scientific evidence to the contrary, to this person perhaps there is some missing part to the equation that is the presence of God. You can’t be prejudiced towards people just because they believe something you are totally convinced is not true, despite how ridiculous it may seem to you.

The one thing that I absolutely hate about religion, and have to qualms about admitting so, is the organization. I simply cannot fathom why anyone would need a priest, or a pastor, or a father, or what-have-you, to stand up on a dais in a silly robe and read a book to you and interpret it to you. This spoon-feeding of the “gospel” is absolutely ludicrous to me when the main attraction of any religion is personal salvation. I emphasize that: personal salvation. How can you have this when someone other than you is describing to you what you are reading in a book. I have no problem with personal religion, it’s just that as soon as there is a middle man involved that potentially distorts the message being delivered and spoon-feeds it to you like your an infant that doesn’t know up from down, that is where I draw the line.

Enough about religion. I get bored too easily, I think. For the past three paragraphs I was all worked up and vehement and angry, and now I got nothing. I think I just don’t have the energy to stay angry for that long; it’s too much work. So why do you covet that which you hate? Is that necessarily true? Is it always true? When you finally achieve or obtain something which you’ve been coveting, does it make you happy, or does it just make you want more? Do you find that the driving force behind your desire to obtain that which you covet is not really that you want that particular thing, but you just desire the achievement. The proverbial end of the road. I think, for the most part, this is the case. It doesn’t really matter what you are striving for, because afterwards what really makes you satisfied is that you reached that plateau.

When I was a junior in high school, I was denied the position of Editor-in-Chief of my high school newspaper, and I was crushed. I actually put a few good slices in my bedroom door with a sword to vent my anger. But one of the advisers for the newspaper really put it in perspective for me and changed the whole way I looked at the situation. I pulled him aside at one point and asked him about the decision, and he told me that journalism wasn’t my career and my driving force, whereas the two new editors-in-chief had this force behind them. For me, it was just that I wanted to wear the Captain’s hat because I put blood, sweat, and tears into that paper and I felt like I deserved the recognition and the pat on the back. And he was right. When I really thought about it, I didn’t care about being in charge of everything, I just wanted the feeling of success after putting in so much hard work. And to be perfectly honest, I probably would have been a poor editor-in-chief considering my near total lack of motivation to do anything requiring responsibility. After that conversation, I was a changed man. Sure, I didn’t put in as much time or work as hard as I used to, but I came in, did my job, left, and wasn’t bitter about it.

I think about that time in my life, and I think of now. I sit here, now, in my apartment, typing this nonsense, and I can’t help thinking I’ve managed to put myself in the same position I was in all those years ago. My wall is covered with painting, pictures, and craft-work. Some of it absolutely beautiful, some of it unique, and some of it just, well, “interesting”. But who cares? There is no one here to see it and no one comes to see it. I stare at the things on my walls and remember all of the great times I had acquiring them, and I find myself hoping that someday some person will be here and notice all of the unique items I have acquired from around the world, and actually care enough to ask me about them.

There are two distinct directions this train of thought is going, and neither of them are very good. The first is that my favorite times are traveling the globe, seeing all the things that not many people get to experience. This inevitably boils down to the fact that I am not particularly satisfied with my current sedentary life of being alone in Philadelphia and only leaving my apartment to go to class or the gym. Considering this, I feel like I am taking a nose-dive into the 9-to-5 suburban hell that was the focal point of the opus American Beauty. And this scares the hell out of me.

The second train of thought is that I’m pining for someone to take an interest in me. I guess I’ve always felt like I’m second chair instrument to the cool kid in the band (if there is such a thing). I’ve always felt like I’m not worth while; that when it comes down to it I’m just wasting my time because I’m not going to amount to anything. This makes me think that the things on my walls validate me, they are a testament to the fact that I have been somewhere and I have seen something that not everyone gets to see. While it is true that I have done these things, it does not make me happy. Because how can you really be happy if you rely on material things to validate your own existence? When it comes down to it, it’s all just junk. I could light it all on fire and no one would care except me, because that burning pile of junk is me. I think it’s a pretty sad day when you define yourself by a giant bonfire that has nothing to do with the fire.

I’ve never been able to not compare myself to my brother. All my life, he was the popular one, he was the smart one, he was the motivated one, the bigger one, the stronger one, the more athletic one, the better-looking one, the more successful one, etcetera etcetera. And even now that our lives have diverged so far apart I can’t help doing it even more. While he is off traveling the world and living a life of his own, something I so desperately wish I could be doing, I am stuck here in school. While he went to one of the best engineering schools in the country, let alone the world, I went to a state school with a bunch of retards and jock straps looking for a party. Sure, I am getting my masters degree, but I think that will just put me barely on a even keel with him. Even still, I don’t think not having a masters degree would ever stop him and even if it did he would find a way around it. I look at him and I think that he could do anything and nothing will ever stop him from being successful. While I have always been stuck in his shadow feeding off his bread crumbs and making up excuses for why I haven’t tried as hard as he has to obtain a life that doesn’t so closely resemble hell. I’ve always made excuses for my many short-comings and failures, and I don’t know why or how I live with myself afterwards.

My brother is my superman. Sure, I constantly berate him for not owning a pair of balls, but that’s only because he gives me so many opportunities and it’s an absolute shame not to do so. But like I said before, I’ve always compared myself to him and he always seems to take the cake which such ease and finesse. I feel like I’m constantly two steps behind him in everything I do. Maybe I just need more time to mature and become the man I will be for the rest of my life, I don’t know. But part of me can’t help feeling left behind. He’s half-way around the world living a life he wants to live, and I’m in the middle of the road choking on his dust cloud. I know that I have my parents and that they would do anything for me, but that most likely cannot amount to the type of companionship that I need to get me through this transition period in my life.

But that’s not really the problem. There have been hard times in my life when I’ve turned to my brother, or my parents, or my friends for help. And sometimes I’ve gotten help, and sometimes not. I can only remember one distinct time when my brother asked me for help and that was regarding a girl (which I never thought would happen considering our relative relations with the fairer sex). And the problem appears like a light bulb in front of me. I have needed help from people more often than not lately considering my life and the pressures of school. But no one needs me. No one wants my advice, no one asks my opinion, no one turns to me when they have problems of their own, no one that is important in my life validates my position in theirs. The absence of reciprocity is the most painful truth of all.

Am I invisible? Or have I just dug my own grave? I know I have serious trust issues, so maybe the fact that there are very few people I let get close to me is in turn the reason why no one actually feels close enough to reach out to me for help? Or maybe I’m just upset by the fact that the people I do consider close to me don’t, or rarely, reach out to me. The whole reciprocity thing, right?

I’ve totally lost my drive to continue writing. I think I’ve successfully gotten that whole spiel out of me. A bottle of tequila is calling my name, so I must be going. Until next time.

Massaged my what?

 

Wouldn’t you like to know? Frankly, I would too. I know what it means to me, but what does it mean to you? I like the idea of leaving it open so that you actually have to think about it. Don’t think too hard though, heaven forbid you have an aneurysm or something. I’m sure you are all thinking that it is something sexual, like you just massaged my genitalia while I take a dump and read Sodomizing Horses Weekly, well shame on you you dirty pervert.

 

The point of the title to my page is that you are pandering to my self-serving, narcissistic attitude by simply visiting my page. You are reading my thoughts and ideas, and what does this tell me? That I am more important than you. Does this mean I am better than you? God I hope not, but I certainly am capturing your attention up until at least the last sentence, when you surf to another pointless web page in disgust.

 

Do I really want your attention though? I don’t know, maybe somewhere deep down in my colon, I do. But I like to tell my self that I don’t care if you like what I write or not. This is my space to rant about what pisses me off or what makes me laugh; this is my space to be myself and not give a damn what other people think. I need an outlet for venting and this seems like a good enough venue where I can hopefully piss off as many people as possible. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not about to just write anything to piss someone off, like “the Jews had it coming” or something. I am about voicing my opinion and standing by my morals. And if you agree with me, great, leave me a comment and let me know. If you don’t agree with me, that’s fine too, but I’ll probably just ignore you if you try to vocalize that opinion. Because, as we’ve already established, you are taking time out of your day to read my thoughts, and therefore, I am more important than you.

 

I think a focal point of this blog will be an incessant, rambling, mental vomit that will hopefully work out all of the accrued aggression I come across during the day. I mean, I can only take so much before I light my hair on fire and run down the street screaming. What is that pushes me this far? Pretty much everything, really. It would take way too long to list them all here, so I’ll just be discussing them as I come across them in my day to day life. Doesn’t that sound like fun? Hopefully I will be able to effect a modicum of humor, which will provide some level of entertainment. Which will result in people actually reading my blog because they want to and not because they feel obligated to for one reason or another.

I already don’t remember what I wrote about at the beginning of this post; it’s my ability to ramble at its greatest. Hopefully it is not so incoherent that I need to go back and edit it. I don’t think that is the point of writing a blog, is it? This is supposed to be honesty, this is me. And if you don’t like it, I don’t care. Enjoy!