Written 12th June 2011.
The urge to scribble is being suppressed by the knowledge and belief that it is important for me to write something down. It is something that is so far unknown, that has not taken its final form. It is frustrating and stopping me from doing what I want to do.
For the first time in a long time last night I spoke about things that were important to me to people that I know and don’t know very well. The ideas did not always come out properly but they came out. I do not think they were always heard or understood but I was able to vocalise them and not worry if they were being listened to. This is important I think. I was told that I needed to share more of myself with the world.
Growing up I never felt that my father and I had much in common personality wise. I think now this is because I did not know him as a person but instead as a figure, an actor who played a role and did a job. Now he is a person and I can see that he does have a personality not dissimilar to mine. A personality that he has either passed on to me or I have inherited from him. It appears that we both struggle with the idea of casual friendships. Those people that occupy the space between acquaintance and good friend. The people whose company I enjoy but inertia keeps me from seeing more of. When they are not around my desire to see them can be subdued by television or a book or a trip to the supermarket. Of course thinking about it that also describes the situation I find myself in when it comes to good friends as well.
This inertia is something I need to overcome.
I thought last night that my concept of fear may be different to other people’s. That what I see as fear they see as unpleasant.
I often wonder when I see a fat bearded man get on the bus and walk down the aisle if that is how I look. I do not think of them as people. This is unkind and unfair and something I need to work on overcoming.
I feel resentment towards people who gush over their animals. People who have decided that their dog or cat or fish is a demigod that must be worshipped, that it is a supreme being incapable of mundane actions. That the animal is in possession of a genius level of intelligence and instinctual behaviours are transformed into cleverly thought out schemes of Machiavellian cunning. My resentment towards them is two parted 1.) I am expected to listen to their stories and agree with them and by doing so tacitly recognise that there is no other animal as smart, adorable or wonderful as theirs (this is clearly wrong as they have never met MY cat or dog), an animal that I have no relationship or connection with and 2.) the way they that they have subjugated themselves to the animal. It is the second part that I find most offensive. The first part can be excused and overlooked, we are proud of the beings that we love and cannot conceive of anything more wonderful than they are, but the handing over of control to an illegitimate authority I cannot. I wish I knew why this bothered me so much.
There is no need for me to be concerned over the actions and thoughts of others that do not impact on me or others, yet I am.
I am not sure if that was what I needed to get out but I have no desire to write any more tonight.