156 lines
9.3 KiB
Plaintext
156 lines
9.3 KiB
Plaintext
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= F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. =
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Emotional census and a glass of self
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Is the glass half-empty or half-full? Nothing feels worse than having a
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tired cliché as that sum up a feeling or sentiment. Still, sometimes we
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fight the urge within ourselves to find the perfect and eloquent way to
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express something when a tired rhetorical or metaphor fits all too well.
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Sometimes, the reason these cliches have become so is because they are the
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essence of how things are, already perfectly pre-worded.
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The empty/full rationale, in this case, in an emotional one. I think it is
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a common human condition to look within us, to see if everything is as it
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should be, or at least running parallel to how we think it should be. To
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find out if our successes are what we had in mind, if our quality of life
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meets the demands we set months and years ago, and if our hearts are
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fulfilled as they need to be in order to make life itself an enjoyable,
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worthwhile, and livable endeavor. I've been polling myself of late, and
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have found, empty or full, I am half of what I have known myself to be and
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short of what I want to be.
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Career, goals, and successes are all approximate to what I've had in mind
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at various points in my life. All are "full enough", for all intents and
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purposes. I have a home, friends, and can feel the warmth of my parents
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love for me, even this far away from them, as if I still clung to chest
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with a hand no larger than quail^Òs egg. But what of the heart? It is far
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from full. I know so, because I can clearly recall the feeling of it being
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so.
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With that in mind, I wondered if that were in fact true, why was I still
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happy? If I were "half a man", so to speak, I should not be content with
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life as I am. So that raised the next obvious question: do we necessarily
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need to be "full". Our hearts crave substance, and abhor emptiness. We
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lament and feel the perceived fullness of the hearts around us as way of
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applying emotional spackle to our vacancies. We find ourselves renting
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romantic comedies or even finding human depth and fulfillment in Hallmark
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commercials in some depraved effort to consume empty calories of a
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heart-warmed meal of surrogate love.
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I used to sustain myself thus, and ache more at that need to do so than the
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times of unfulfillment themselves. At the same time, I can think of times
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that there was a "full". When every cache and crevasse was filled to
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bursting with friends, lovers, and loved ones. They sit before me like
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those yellow and black monochrome photographs from the turn of the century
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- somehow seeming clearer and crisper than the vibrant Kodachrome we have
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available to us today. Why do we keep photographs? The moments within
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them are clearly gone, escaped from us due to the passing of time. We keep
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them, whether available, displayed, or on our person, because they are
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moments worth keeping and cherishing. Emotion, feeling, and even the ache
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of feelings gone by should be perceived no differently.
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But I digress. So I am neither empty nor full is that a concern? What
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I've found poignant is not the empty/fullness, but rather the lack of
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concern about it, one way or the other. As I've said, I can remember
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fullness, and touch times of emptiness if I feel so compelled to stand
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emotionally naked before myself. But do I crave it? Do I *need* it as I
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think I do, or should for that matter? I say nay. Like old photographs, I
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don't look at them to conjure up the urge to crawl within that moment. To
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crave the past is to express, without admitting so, that we are emptier
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than we can possibly face that we've allowed things to fall so far from
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grace, when we obviously had right at some previous point in time.
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Another digression, my apologies. They seem as controllable as the ability
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to fly when we fall in a dream.
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As I said, I have come to wonder if it is basically important to be full.
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I will not advocate the benefits of being emotionally empty. I will say one
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needs to traverse there (and generally we all do, and rarely by our own
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design) in order to know the capacity of ourselves how vacant we can be in
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order to better see how much is required to become full.
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One thing I have come to appreciate about "halfness" (poetic license, not
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poor grammar, rest assured) is that it brings us something that fullness
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lacks. It creates a fire of passion within us, with the ache of vacancy as
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a fuel. Never are we hungrier than when we are without. One could agree
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that that emptiness, by virtue of being more vacant, would have more fuel,
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and would thus burn hotter and stronger. I disagree as many may already
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have, that this is generally not true. Emptiness contains nothing, and as
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a result, has nothing to consume. It is only when we need to fend off the
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abyss, and at the same time, obtain our desires, that we have enough
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character to stoke with a poker of motivation and not desperation.
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When we are full, we become complacent. Some are wise and perceptive
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enough to appreciate these moments and give them their due. But for the
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most of us, we can recall too many occasions that our complacency made our
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passions lapse and become lazy and as a result, we allowed the fires to
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dwindle far past the point to save, no matter the amount desperate
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rekindling. Almost all of us have lost in this manner.
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Still, we mustn't shun these times. We must also embrace these as we do
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the emptiness. We must let these times or the loss of them become the
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piss and vinegar burning in our hungry stomachs. We must allow them to be
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become an obtainable beacon, even if they be only the empty allure of the
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green light seen from Gatsby's dock. I think of the example of the tales
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of knights and chivalry. I didn't realize until late in life until the
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fables had been too often told that they generally did not end up with
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their lady faire. They did everything for them, and selflessly in their
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name, without sex, without a kiss, and sometimes, without a touch at all.
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Instead, it was the gesture that was their foremost goal, and they filled
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their "manly" needs with handmaidens and whores. But when it came to the
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heart, it was fulfilled in spirit alone.
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With all this in mind, tangents both included and aside, I have come to
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appreciate the "halfness". I come to appreciate what I have so easily
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neglected and forgotten in times past. When we are unmotivated, nothing
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propels our ambition like hunger. I think trying to tack this hunger upon
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someone in an effort fill it, as would some ambitious landlord to an empty
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space, is poorly crafted logic. There are not many times in our lives that
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we are passionate and not passionate in the traditional sense that we
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often think of when involved with another. I'm talking about a raw,
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unfocused, passion. I'm talking about the passion for words, for company,
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for expression, and for self. I'm talking about enjoying the nuances of
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thought, be it another's or ours. To hone and whet that sensation is to
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appreciate wielding it. The better tempered it is, the stronger it becomes.
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I do not crave a lifetime of "halfness", and I think that goes without
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saying. While there is value in longing, well applied, there is no benefit
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to denial for the sake of some composed nobility via emotional martyrdom.
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Instead, I'm just saying that I will no longer call these times as being
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"without". There is so much of one's self to fill that space with, and not
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with the wispy smoke of want and desire. Instead, it can be filled with
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all the parts of ourselves we never know until we are alone: the
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aforementioned passion, the strength, and the strength to admit the
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frailties we discover along the way. When the time comes, this is the part
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we bring to another honestly, openly, and willingly with more than enough
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to spare.
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And, just for the sake of not leaving anything uncrossed or undotted: if
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the glass has something in it, it's full enough.
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- capone
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= Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions =
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= Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) =
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= issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. =
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= (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. =
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