don't let that stop you

well its been a few days since I have posted anything, feel like I've been avoid it, I do have at least one dream I would like to explore, which to me vividly illustrated a personal insecurity, one that I can't claim to having been consciously aware of. But that is the nature of dreams of a gateway to the unconscious. Honestly I know I'm not saying any that hasn't been said before, some of the thoughts that I find so profound at times do seem a little cliche, like yeah but everyone knows that, but for the is just that I get it, or it click in a way that seems more real, more applicable to everyday life, or I feel that tingle that runs throught me when something just hits and everything is good, there is a clear path, all the doors stand open. Now there are just as many if not more moments of uncertianty, like am I supposed to feel this way, like the world is senseless and no matter what you believe it is just a trick of the senses...I know that there is no peace found just by letting the gears turn, but that doesn't mean they won't turn...the more I study the more I find I am embracing a philosophy that has always been my own....

Part of personal journey has been to confront the me of a decade ago, or at least that became part of, along with ideas of family and home, and that his taken me back nearly a full decade to the point where I confront the me of that time, which I try so hard to love, someone I have wanted to destroy, been ashamed of, and now that I have pictures recenty aquired from my mother......I have struggled with memories of my past, feeling like there are too many gaps, my brain learns to quickly to wipe, block off, repress, and start fresh, many cycles of rebirth, transplants, see Metamophosis.... I can find parallels which the person I was, the manic poet, who was grasping at some explaination for a life that seemed to be so wretchedly cruel, filled with people where so easily deluded by obvious lies, I was filled with a rage I had learned from my father, a man who to me seemed to be so frustrated with his inability to live the idealized life that he imagined for himself and his family, I thought I knew something then, I think this is typical of being a teenager, knowing something they don't, and I did, or so I thought, but also I struggled with that anger, found ways to channel it, prominently was writing and music and romantic obsessions....I remember days when I would walk and words would just come to me one after the other so quickly that I didn't have chance to remember and write then, and when I did stop to write they seems to flow faster then I could have spoken. I spent at least a year writing like this if not more, spend much of my class time writing instead of doing any actual class work.

Well here I am, looking backward and forward, trying to confront my fears from both ends, knowing my ignorance, is my responsibility and blaming others for theirs is just falsely justifying my own.