11 February, 2004

On futility

I hate feeling futile. I gave up Christianity cause I was told that my works were but a dirty rag to Yahweh. Well, fuck Yahweh, I said. Tell me the best I can do is not good enough? Fuck anyone that thinks that. Would I stay in any relationship that the Other was not satisfied with my best? Hell fuck no I wouldn’t.
I can think. I can choose. I can act.
Condemn me for acting wrong, poor choices, or faulty logic. These I can change, these I am in control of. Tell me my best just ain’t good enough? Well, fuck you.
Sometimes my best ain’t good enough. I can grok that. I can train. I can learn. And if my best still ain’t good enough, I can find a new employ. But fuck, I can’t find another soul. Bible don’t say my best ain’t good enough right now, it says it will never be good enough.
Well, fuck your grace, I don’t want it. I will slap you in the face with the free will that you so graciously gave me, pissant jealous deity. I choose the Horned God, Herne, Pan, Cernunnos; They at least give me a fair shot. They don’t accept excuses. They don’t cater to whiners. They don’t believe in foolish sacrifice.
Sacrifice is a fucked up newspeak kind of word. The only place it is used right is in baseball. But the rest of the world thinks that it is noble to sacrifice, even gave it a fancy word, ‘altruism‘.
In baseball, the sacrifice means the batter gave up a hit for the team to score a run. It means to give up a lesser value to gain a greater value. But in the newspeak of the last two millenia, it means give up a greater value to get a lesser value; that is not a sacrifice, that is a swindle.
Nothing has ever pissed me off more than having felt a need to do something and then realizing there is nothing I can do. I have always sucked at that serenity thing. I have courage out the ass, but wisdom I must suck at. I want to think I can change anything if I try hard enough. Tantra has helped me out, a lot. I am sure I took the long way around the block to come to the conclusion that I shouldn’t worry about all things. But, son-of-a-bitch, why would I have driven myself to be as capable as I am just to sit back on the sidelines? If I stop now, I feel like I have wasted my life; til now.
I am such a fucked up person; but I can still make me laugh. And since it is only rarely that my laughter is that maniacal, high pitched giggle which I can’t seem to stop, I think I shall stick around me for a bit longer. ;c)
Even the giggle is better than the tears; I have always cried most when I am frustrated.
I hate it when people hurt. I want to help them. I can’t.
I hate it when there is injustice, I want to punish. Not my lane.
I hate it when there is a better way, and no one will listen. I am not God.
I am just A god, I am not THE GOD. How silly She must think we are. I hope She gets at least a chuckle out of our idiocy that causes us pain. Perhaps Her hands are bound just as tightly as are ours.
That would be fitting.
Still love you, Mother; You piss me off sometimes, but the butterflies are very nice; thank You.

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