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Two-person Combo Rant. [06 Jul 2008|01:20am]

purpledice
[ mood | pissed ]

"You're mad at her, aren't you?"

Of COURSE I'm mad at her! She had someone who loved her, gave her his all, did everything and anything for her, bent over backwards and sacrificed for her happiness, and she never, ever appreciated it or gave him any goddamned respect. And then she doesn't just decide to not continue a friendship with him, she cuts off all communication, just drops him and acts like he doesn't exist. "She wasn't comfortable yet..." BOO FUCKING HOO. First she calls Ryan immature, which is the biggest fucking head-scratcher I've ever heard, but then she can't be adult enough to do what's uncomfortable but undoubtedly right? Miss Grown Up, Miss Stuck Up 2008, Miss So Much More Advanced Than You can't suck it up long enough to give Ryan--her boyfriend of almost five years--the common fucking courtesy of acknowledging his attempts at communication, even a "I'm sorry, I don't want to be friends."? Bullshit. She's just too fucking selfish and stuck up, too high on her horse, to give a shit. She thinks he's not worth it, he's not worth one second of her precious precious time, so hell with him and she'll do what makes her happy. Because that's sure the mature thing to do.

So, yeah, I'm fucking mad at her. And bitter for her mistreating the best thing that ever happened to her. If you don't think I have any right to be, fine. But that's how I feel, and I'm not about to try and change it just because you can't decide if you're her friend, or she's your friend, or not. First it's "You guys were right, she's a bitch," then you spend the whole Fourth of July at her house?

You need to pick a side, pick a personality, make a damned decision, and stick with it. Either you're her friend, or you've given up. Either you're still hurt and mad at me for breaking up with you, or you're not. Either you're my bestest buddy, or you're the bitter ex. You can't just pick and choose when you're going to hold it against me, you can't just save it up for when you can use it as trump. You can't talk over me and ignore me one minute, than drill me in the most sickly-sweet manner possible to find out every last detail. You have to choose one.

It still hurts to think about that night. I still feel fucking guilty and awful about it. I know that doesn't mean much, because in your eyes I should, but you could try to remember that I didn't do it for shits and giggles, it didn't just wash over me and leave me without a mark,
I'm not completely fucking over it either. Whenever you bring it up, especially when you use it as trump to try and win something--especially when it's something as trivial as first player in fucking Halo2--it stabs me right in the heart. I think you know that, but you need to really understand what that means. You can't be my friend and then do that to me to help you "win"--that's not how friendship works.

If you keep this shit up, I won't be able to be around you. It'll be me and Ryan, and you and Ryan, and no more three geekateers hanging out all the time. If that's what you want, fine. Personally, I would hate it. So make up your fucking mind.

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[22 Jun 2008|03:52pm]

purpledice
I have so many good intentions, good plans, that keep getting knocked out from under me by my friends and loved ones, who don't even know they're doing it, because of their own good plans and intentions. I want to eat better--they want McDonald's or pizza. I want to go out and exercise, get some fresh air--they want to stay in and play video games and watch movies. I want to go out and see people, hang out, socialize, spend time with people I enjoy the company of--they want to stay in and avoid any and all of that.

And whenever I try to make compromises that would make everyone happy--go for a walk to take pretty pictures with fancy cameras they love to play with, go eat favorite foods and play video games and watch movies with friends, have me cook something that I want and they're craving--there's always some reason, small or large, important or petty, that makes it an unreasonable request. I just can't win.

There's a reason Sarah kept up the passive-aggressive bullshit: it worked. We all hated it, but we gave in to it, just to make her shut up and stop being a baby. Me, I like it when other people are happy. And I don't like raising my voice and making a fuss, it's not worth getting what I want if I'm being a bitch to get it. So what happens? I don't get it. I put others ahead of myself, I go with the flow; I'll put my opinion out there, but if no one else agrees with it, I won't whine or complain about it. I'm agreeable and nice and polite, and I get punished for it. I don't want to be a bitch, and I get punished for it.

Anything that's good enough for anyone else, I don't seem to deserve. I ask to go on a walk, I get turned down; Justin says you're going for a walk, you're going for a walk. I'm coming over, no need to shower or get dressed or brush your teeth, it's just me. Besides, you won't go anywhere. Except most of the time, when I go over after work and Justin's been there, there's bags from McDonald's or Dunkin Donuts. Not just one bag for him, but two bags, one for each of you. How does he get his way--he doesn't ask, he states. I ask, I get turned down.

I can't win.

Either I'm a bitch and get some semblance of what I want and feel guilty as shit over it, or I'm myself and get to be second fiddle.
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[03 Sep 2007|11:26pm]

purpledice
I'll be honest, old friend. I do love you. And a small portion is, indeed, romantic love. But I love him more, and geographically it wouldn't work out, and, most importantly, you don't feel the same way...and I'm not even completely sure you ever did. I was a passing fancy for a time, and it felt wonderful for that time. But I am quite certain there's not even a smidgen of interest in a relationship with me in you, and that's perfectly fine.

I've long ago come to terms with the fact that there are people I love who I either can not or will not be with. Loving them will have to be enough. And, surprisingly enough, it is. I love three different people, possibly a fourth...and it's all okay. None of it takes away from my relationship or my future in that relationship, none of it makes me sad or wistful or melancholy. They are wonderful people, and I love them. Not just as friends, but more. But I love them, and that's all, and that's okay.

So don't worry, old friend. I am not trying to accomplish anything, except to be here for you when you need be. My only wish, when it comes to you, is that you were happier, and we were closer. I want to be the shoulder you cry on, because I know you desperately need one, and it hurts me that you do. You deserve much happiness, and all I want to do is help you get there.
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[18 Mar 2007|12:42pm]

purpledice
Just so very sick of this.

Sometimes I want to hang out with you. Sometimes I don't. That's how the world works, I'm sorry if you don't like it, it's nothing personal, it's just how I work, as well. Sometimes I need to relax, and I can't do that with you. That's not a bad thing, it just means sometimes, I hang out with people besides you. It does not mean I hate or even dislike you.

Stop the passive agression. Stop the whining. Stop the badgering. Stop the pity hunger. I was there once, I learned the hard way, no one responds well to it.

You're energetic, kinetic, frenzied, go-go-go. And that's fine, but just not all the time. Sometimes I need to just sit and watch, or do something slow and methodical, or do nothing at all. That kind of "activity" doesn't interest you, and that's fine. It doesn't have to, no one is asking that of you. All I'm asking is that you understand it, and other peoples' need for it, and not take it so damned personally when you're not included because we know you won't enjoy yourself.

Badgering me won't work, guilting me won't work, pestering me won't work, they will all backfire and make me want to run, screaming, in the other direction. You don't want that, I'm guessing. So please. LEAVE ME ALONE.
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[21 Dec 2006|05:08pm]

purpledice
[ mood | sad ]

Last night I dreamed that Josh was madly in love with some girl. There was more to the dream, but it was just....weird. The part that matters is that Josh was there, and totally head over heels for this girl.

And it hurt. In the dream, waking up, 7 hours later...it hurts to think about. i wept in the dream, but I can't quite get there awake. My heart hurts, though. And I feel so depressed over it. Depressed, lost, hopeless, and alone.

I haven't told anyone that I'm still in love with Josh. I don't think they'd understand. It's not just that I'm not over some guy....it's a mixture of guilt and longing and remorse that I can't describe or put in to words.

My heart aches. I miss him. I miss him so much. I want to tell him how much I miss him, how I'd do anything to make up for what I did to him, that if I were given the chance, I would never leave him again, never betray his heart like that.

I love Justin, so much. There are times when I feel like I could spend eternity wrapped up in his arms.

And then there are times when I miss Josh with every part of my soul. When I want to see him smile at my again, with love in his eyes.

I can't reconcile those two parts of me.

And I can't tell anyone, so I can't get it out of me. So it sits inside and boils and burns me from the inside.

My heart aches....

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[26 Oct 2006|11:25pm]

purpledice
I think about you all the time.

I hear Hinder's "Lips of an Angel", and I wish we could do that. I wish I could call and cry and tell you and hear that, at the very least, you've thought of me from time to time.

I can never apologize enough. Never. I'm scum for what I did to you, and I will never forgive myself. No, we weren't perfect then, but that wasn't any reason to just give up for no other reason than lust. We deserved more than that. You were the best moment of my life.

A lot of things I've said in relationships have ended up not coming true, even if I meant them with all my heart when I said them. Loving someone forever, always being with them, that kind of thing. Except with you. When I told you loving you wasn't a choice, it was something I couldn't help, it was true. It still is. When I told Dan and Nick that a part of my heart would always be yours, I was right. Even then, a part of me thought I would end up wrong...but apparently not.

I can't help it. I just miss you. Your smile, your laugh, the way you thought, the way you just sat and contemplated before you said something important. The way you loved me. Honestly, purely, unconditionally. You were the first person besides my parents to love me unconditionally. For all I know, you're the only one who ever has.

I'll be honest--I hope for some fairytale moment in the future. I love Justin very much, and if we could really be happy together, then I want to be with him for the rest of my life. But sometimes I just don't think that can happen. And it's those times that I daydream about meeting up with you by chance and having a conversation that starts out as catching up but ends with revealing that we still love and think about the other, and slowly getting back together. I honestly think it wouldn't be too hard or take too long.

I wonder if I still know you better than anyone else in the world. I don't know if I hope so or not.

I need to write you that letter, and SEND you that letter, before I drive myself crazy. Maybe I'll stop making myself all confused like this. But I almost like it. You were the best thing that ever happened to me, and it doesn't hurt to think about you. It only hurts to think about how I wrecked it. I wonder if it really was the end. I hope it wasn't.

I hope you're happy. I honestly do. But dammit, I miss you, and I hope you still love me, too.
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[09 Oct 2006|01:06am]

purpledice
[ mood | guilty ]

If I don't write this, or at least start writing this, right now, I may never.

I miss you. Dammit do I miss you. It was all my fault, it was the biggest mistake I ever made, and if I could go back in time and undo it, I would. I'm so, so sorry for what I did to you, to us, and I wish I never had.

I do love Justin, I do, so much. And I'm happy with him right now. And I know you're happy with who you're with, they are good people and you're good together. That doesn't stop me from dreaming, literally dreaming, about being together again.

I've been having dreams for months, not where we were together again, but where you were just there for me, in one aspect or another. There in a way he can never seem to be. It wasn't until recently, lying in bed in the early morning, just idly thinking of you from the past, that I realized how much I missed you. That I missed you at all.

It wasn't about sex, it wasn't about status, it wasn't about power. It was about love. We loved each other, purely and beautifully, and you made me think it could all be that simple. I thought I had been in love, before you, but I had been wrong. You showed me what real love was. Is.

I could try to take that lesson, that simple philosophy of just loving, and apply it to where I am now, but it wouldn't work. I know because I've tried. He's not the kind of person I ever pictured myself with, and he's a good person, a good man, but...he's just not who I ever thought I'd be with. And it's just so hard--almost too hard--to just let that go. It may tear us apart, but I don't think it's something I can help.

I love him, I do, but...I can't stop thinking about you. You were beautiful. You were pure. I think I'll always hate that part of me that gave in to temptation and lust and made the decision to leave you. I fear that I killed that part of you that loved so easily as you did with me. I pray that I haven't.

I'm not saying we were perfect when I left. But we could have fixed it. It would have been hard, and painful, but it would have made us stronger, and even if we didn't survive it, we would have had the fact that we tried to hold us through. I took the "easy" way out, and it was wrong. I am so sorry for what I did to you, it was wrong, deeper than I can say. And I don't think I'll ever forgive myself for that.

If I do get the courage together to write you a letter, I won't say all that I've said here. I'll say less, because this would be too much. And I won't expect the answer that a secret part of my heart dreams about. We're both happy where we are right now. But maybe writing that letter, making sure you know how I feel, in some small part, will help that secret portion of my heart sleep again.

I think I'm always going to love you. You're always going to be my first love, and my last love, and no one will ever be able to replace you or stand up to you. That fact will make everything harder for the future, but I did it to myself. It's what I deserve for leaving you.

I'm so sorry. I'll never be able to say it enough. I hope I can at least say it once.

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Business Ideas. [18 Jul 2006|12:09am]

purpledice
[ mood | thoughtful ]

I had three ideas. Somehow I lost one, but gained another, so I still have three(and a half?), but I'm kinda missing the first third one. It was good, I'm sure of it, I remember that much.

They were ideas for businesses.

( Idea Number One: Childhood Camp.Collapse )

( Idea Number Two: Unisex Store.Collapse )

( Idea Number Three: Accounting for Artists.Collapse )

( Idea Number Three-A: Accounting for the Little Guy.Collapse )

Dammit, I wish I could remember my previous idea.

There are lots of other ideas, of course, but they're more "mundane"--running a "regular" store, writing a book, etc. I once had a hankering to open up a gay bar, but I think that idea only spawned so I could insist that Devin be the bouncer. XD

I'm starting to worry/wonder about the third idea, and if it was just plain owning and running a store that sold Reyen Design Studios merchandise. I thought it was a more fantastic idea than that...

Still, an idea's an idea.

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Wetatom, Numbmoon. [13 Jul 2006|11:58pm]

purpledice
The subject line sounds like the title of a book of poetry.

So I've been reading Searching For God Knows What (Donald Miller) again. I picked it up about a year ago, got a chapter or two in, and then stopped reading it for whatever reason. The other night, I was feeling a bit odd, and needed something to read besides The Dark Tower: Wizard and Glass (Stephen King, g'duh). I felt I needed something deeper, so I searched through my lower left bookshelf--the one reserved for poetry and spirituality books. And I picked this one.

I've only read it before bed the past couple nights, so I've been going to bed with interesting thoughts swirling through my brain. For a clue as to what the book is about, here is the back cover description:
( Back Cover ScripCollapse )

Although you would never guess, it's actually a funny book. Written in first-person, brutally honest and down-to earth. Really nice.

But anyway, it's had me going to sleep with such thought trains as: I believe in a God and/or Goddess, that they made us....but I also believe in science and the Big Bang. How do the two fit together, or at least get along?, and What is the difference between Paganism and Christianity, the big enough difference to separate them? They are both, separately, supposed to be about the same things, the same principles, yet they're also about supposed to be as opposite from each other as anything an get.

I think those are pretty valid points. Especially considering they were thought up around 2 in the morning after long days.

I've been thinking about my spirituality for a little while anyway. A lot of what real Christians speak about, well, speaks to me, I agree very strongly with the ideas. At the same time....something about thinking of myself as Pagan, thinking "Pagan thoughts", hell even the word "Pagan" just makes me feel....good. Something about it feels right.

Trying to be a good person to the world as well as myself, treating nature with respect, treating the world and everyone inhabiting it with respect...looking for the good in things, trying to keep balance in my life and thoughts, searching for the best in people. Heh, to put it in gunslinger terms, remembering the face of my father.

That's another thing, I've been thinking about the Stephen King's gunslinger's philosophies and such, thinking about how true they are.

The gunslinger's lesson:
I do not aim with my hand; she who aims with her hand has forgotten the face of her father.
I aim with mym eye.
I do not shoot with my hand; she who shoots with her hand has forgotten the face of her father.
I shoot with my mind.
I do not kill with my gun; she who kills with her gun has forgotten the face of her father.
I kill with my heart.

...lately, whenever i try to type a serious entry, i'm interrupted by something that kills my thought process. derails my train, you might say.

I'll come back to this later. At least I got started.
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RV Adventure. [08 Jul 2006|01:09am]

purpledice
Someday, I want to buy or rent an RV, and just take off. For like a year. Explore America and Canada. Drive anywhere and everywhere.

Part of me has always lusted after the idea of living out of a suitcase. Living simply. Clothes, money, bedding, food...the essentials. Writing tools. Music. Books.

And some other part of me loves the idea of just being away, on my own, gone.

Today, I drove down to Ansonia to help David and Dorita set up for a Ren Faire. It was an hour and a half drive each way. I loved it. Blasting music, letting the wind rush in through the open windows, just rolling down the road.

It wasn't just the driving that I liked, it was the looking. Western CT is different than eastern--it's hillier, classier, nicer in some ways. The communities seem closer, the bridges and tunnels are stone, not just concrete, the towns look sweet and lovely. It could just be because I'm not from there, but...it just looks nice, every time I go by.

I imagine 30 or 40 years in the future, hitting 55 or 60 and finally doing it. Kids at college or settled down somewhere else. Spouse either willing to come or willing to stay and wait, or no spouse at all. I imagine calling my kids, sending them postcards, and having them share with their friends. "Look where my mom is, look what she's doing. She's in her 50's/60's, and look what she's doing! Isn't that amazing?"

Driving down highways, listening to music, the wind blowing through the windows and over my skin. Stopping to eat wherever, to visit friends, to look at special, historic, or just pretty sites. Taking pictures, writing about what I'm seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting, feeling, doing, sending postcards from each town I hit that has them. Making up a collection of little bottles of sand from every beach, pebbles from every mountain, dried and pressed flowers and leaves, samples of melted snow or rain or river or ocean. Maybe a journal or notebook where my new and old friends can write down some words.

I imagine it, and it makes me happy. Independence, beauty, meaning, fullfillment. Part of me, the stoic, stubborn, realistic and cynical part, tells me that it wouldn't be perfect. The highways could be long and boring and hazardous. The people could be unfriendly, prejudiced, mean. The world could have "evolved" since then, historic sites destroyed or, worse, left to rot, the beaches and mountains polluted, the beauty of nature killed or poisoned.

But if I can, I will. I have to make this promise to myself. Someday, I will do this. Until then, I will breathe each day, I will love, I will eat, I will grow, I will live my life. But I will not have completely lived. I won't be ready to die. Not until I do this.
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[08 Jul 2006|12:56am]

purpledice
[ mood | fed up ]

When you're given an opportunity that you've been wanting, aren't you supposed to, I don't know, take it?

Justin and Ryan have been commiserating about their lack of money, and how they feel bad about having me use my credit card to pay for them, etc. Justin owes about $50, Ryan about $80.

Mom has been practically begging them to come over and work in the yard. They know--hell, she knows--they she overpays. Her "rate" is $7 an hour, but she ends up rounding it up quite a bit. They could work 2 hours and get $20.

It's always too wet, too hot, too sunny, blah blah bullshit. I'll admit, it's mostly Justin doing the BS, but Ryan doesn't argue with him against it, and he's the one person in the world who could convince him to do it, and he knows it.

As I told Ryan: It's not going to be fun. It's going to be a day of hard work. Hot, sweaty, possibly painful work. But they will be provided food and drink, they will have a meal paid for, and they will be overpaid on top of that.

Mom could have just gotten neighbor kids and paid them less, but she likes Justin and Ryan, she likes them as people as well as for the work they do, and she wants to give them this opportunity.

She has already been informed that Ryan will pay back his debt when he has the chance, and will only work for money at the time, and she's willing to go with that. It'd be the same for Justin if she knew about it.

They wouldn't be just working off debts, they'd be earning money. EARNING MONEY. MONEY. The stuff they've been talking and whining and pining about for the entire fucking summer!

It's one thing to whine. It's another to whine with no reason. If you have a problem, but there is an available, open, easy accessible solution to the problem, and you just aren't willing to take the opportunity, then you lose your whining and complaining privileges. You no longer have any right, you are no longer a wronged victim, you are just a lazy pity hog.

I say all this, and it sounds harsh, but dammit I'm fed up with it.

Justin and Ryan are good guys, and they do do good work and put their all into it. They earn every dollar.

That said: SUCK IT UP AND WORK, FOR FUCKS SAKE. SHE'S ABOUT TO GIVE UP ON YOU AND YOU'RE GOING TO FEEL FUCKING STUPID.

GRAW!

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[11 May 2006|11:44pm]

purpledice
's funny.

Last night I stayed at my boyfriend's. We had sex. It was lovely.

When I finally fell asleep, I had dreams about old boyfriends and crushes. Not sexual dreams, or even particularly romantic dreams, but emotional ones. And the few times I woke up between dreams, I thought about the dreams, and the exes. And it bothered me. It would bother me otherwise, but it especially did last night after a sweet evening and nice sex. I had no reason to dream about exes. So what the hell?

When I finally woke up for the last time this morning, I rolled over and looked Justin's face, and it was like a blast of blue sky, cool wind blowing through gray clouds. I just love him so much. Everything else blew away.
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[09 May 2006|12:55pm]

purpledice
I just spend about half an hour trying to nurse a bird back to health. My cat brought it in, and when I went to take it outside, I saw that it was still alive. She usually brings in completely dead ones, but apparently she forgot to snap the neck on this one.

So I locked the cat door so she couldn't get out, wouldn't let her outside, and sat on the back stoop with this poor, beautiful bird in my hands in a bunch of kleenex.

I touched it. I don't give a damn. It was beautiful, yellow and black, and so soft and warm. So delicate.

I thought it was getting up its strength to fly off, I couldn't find any blood or wounds anywhere on it...but when I went out to check on it a little while later, it was in a pose with legs and neck both half extended, beak half open, but it wasn't breathing anymore. It didn't react when I picked it up, while before it had squirmed a little.

Poor thing. Of course, I let my cat have it, she did catch it, she deserves it...but I felt so bad. It was just so beautiful and warm and...alive. For a while at least. Sigh.
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[09 May 2006|12:21am]

purpledice
Sometimes I think, if I could go back and start this over again, I would date him first. Actually date him, get to know him, hang out with him before agreeing to "go out" with him a.k.a. be his girlfriend. Because I love him to death, but there are things I wish I'd had a chance to know. Also, if we were dating and not an item yet, and there was something about him that rubbed me the wrong way, maybe he'd actually listen to me and think about changing it, in the hopes of getting me.

He'd have something to fight for.
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Man, this icon really fits this whole damn LJ. [07 May 2006|12:05am]

purpledice
[ mood | thoughtful ]

I need to drive late at night more often. I think more. Although, in the past sometime, I decided that thinking too much was bad, because I end up with unhappy conclusions, for the most part.

Tonight's conclusion? Starting over.

Although spent with friends, the evening felt like an ambush, like I was being attacked on most, if not all, sides. Just small things. And I was thinking about how Catsy almost seems to have a grudge against me, at times, like I did something wrong a while ago that she still holds against me.

This train of thought led down tracks of people I could write letters of apology to. Josh, Danielle, Catsy, etc.
And that reminded me of one of the 12 Steps from Alcoholics Anonymous, one of them--I don't remember the number--is to make amends, or something to that effect. Take responsibility and ask forgiveness for all the wrongs you committed while under the influence of alcohol.
So I started thinking about the purpose of those 12 steps, slightly relating it to my life, and I think I realized the goal of it all--starting over.

Maybe the 12 steps from AA can be slightly customized for those who have "hit bottom", not with substance abuse but with emotional depression. I'm not saying I'm at the bottom, I'm actually doing well in my life. There are just small things that get to me, as there are things that get to everybody. Things that gnaw away at you.

But, the main point of this train of thought...starting over. Part of me thinks thats what I need, what I want. Although, now, thinking about it (too much?), I don't know what I'd be starting over with, or what I'd be leaving behind. The only real way to start over would be to move far away, make new friends, join new circles, new communities, find new concentrations and focuses for life. And I don't really need or want that, exactly. I love the people in my life, for the most part.

So what was the point of this train of thought? Or this journal entry, for that matter?

Just thinking. As the info says, this journal is an experiment in really and truly being myself. So I'm putting my raw thoughts out there.

And tonight, as I fall asleep, maybe I'll think on those two words. Starting over.

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Thoughts on character. [04 May 2006|02:39pm]

purpledice
Character is what you do when no one else is around.

But what if you're the kind of person that feels like they're never alone?

I don't know why I am the way I am. Maybe I watched too much TV as a kid, or read too many books. Maybe my psyche, my personality, my sense of self wasn't done forming when I threw too many stories at it. Whatever it is, I never feel completely alone. I feel like my every move, my every thought, is being written down in a musty old tome somewhere, or taped and stored in a vault. I've felt this way for as long as I can remember

In kindergarten, I used to imagine my thoughts as being typed up on typewriter in my head, complete with brain-shaped paper--you know, so it would fit inside my skull.

Throughout primary and secondary school, while doing homework or working on a school presentation, I felt the teachers or my classmates knew when I changed something, they knew what I had orginally planned, and they judged me for that as well as the change.

I still have all that going on in my mind, to some degree. Every move I make is calculated to some degree, even if it's on a subconcious level. I overthink everything, because I fear being viewed incorrectly. I picture huge business people scanning my words, thoughts, and actions, my life, like a transparency for a huge projector. Scanning and judging, grading, laughing at my mistakes, putting a tic mark next to each error, calculating my worth.

So, what does that say about my character? If I never feel like I'm unwatched or unjudged, then am I ever truly myself? Or do I even have a self that's any different when I'm alone, if I never feel alone?

I like to think that I'm a good person. I hold doors open, I compliment jewelry or clothing or hair, I smile whenever I make eye contact, even for a moment. I go out of my way to make my mother laugh. I smile at elderly men, because I know they see me as a "pretty girl", and the smile will brighten their day. I put my change into the tip jar at the counter, whenever there is one. I always say please, thank you, and have a nice day.

I put my all into personal, tiny touches that make up everyday life, because I like to think that someone will appreciate them, and perhaps me. Does that make me selfish, presumptuous, vain? Would you peg me as flakey, gullible, or at subpar intelligence?

How would you judge me, if you didn't know me?
How would you judge me if you knew every little thing about me?

Think about it. You know I do.
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A thought for atheists and agnostics. [04 May 2006|02:38pm]

purpledice
So, say there is no God. No Goddess, either. No Higher Power, Almighty, Supreme Being, etc etc.

So, who do you thank for your creation? For giving you life, for giving you this life, this world, all these wonderful things from being alive? Your parents, and their parents, and so on.

Who do you turn to for support in times of need? Your friends and family.

Who do you have to blame for your troubles, your problems? Who do you have to yell at? Who do you have to pray to, to ask forgiveness, to plead for mercy?

Say there is no God. No Goddess. Just the earth, the humans, the animals, and the rest.

That's it. That's all there is.

If there is no God, no Goddess, no Supreme Being, then all we have is each other. All we have to turn to for love, peace, understanding, support, equality, unity, is each other.

All we have to turn to is each other.

That's really not so bad.
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