"That isn't negative defeatism, just an honest appraisal of the situation based on years of congruent data." - Fedaykin.
Saying it creates it, though, right? Like if I appraise myself and say I find an emotionally overgrown self-religious, brain-off, overweight, anger addicted and physically undesirable girl, does that make it okay to SAY it and call it truth?
Recently I came across the first two chapters of a book I was planning on title-ing "The Princess Theory." In it I had come to the "unshakeable" understanding that not only was I a divine person ('divine' like a daughter of God and also like a chocolate truffle - Wildbound knows the one's I mean) but I had a large hand in CREATING that state, as well as the awareness of it.
I understood that I could choose my emotional responses. I could physically create and package my body: actually BEING who or what I wanted most.
Though recently I have thought that I could talk about myself any way I wanted, because I knew the truth of me and no one else did. It was okay to say negative things, as long as they were true.
But what CREATES that "truth?" Don't I, as a powerful being capable of creating my own life, don't I? I can, yet I do not.
In the interest of being "honest with myself," I have ceased to be kind to myself. Many people fall into this very pointy trap. It's like a raccoon trap. You know the kind. Put a shiny object at the bottom of a can, and stick a bunch of nails in the can so that the hand can reach in, but once a fist is made around the shiny prize, you can't pull out.
The "prize" is the "hard truth we all have to face" in order to live in "reality." What's so great about reality, you ask? We'll I've asked myself the same question for years, or I have asked that question of the many who have watched me in disgust and wonder.
I still don't have a good answer. Because I have yet to square the broad definition of "reality" with my own personal definition of "reality."
The worst part? I am so sleep deprived that my brain no longer does it's function-y things in the brilliant way it used to.
So I fall back on the "hard truth" and accept it because it's easier than working at creating my life.
I'm just so damn tired.
That reminds me of a funny story: My sister and two brothers were in the drive thru at Taco Maker. My younger brother gave the teller a hard time trying to figure out if they had pink or regular lemonade, (though I believe he finally settled on root beer). So when they finally pulled around to the window and my elder brother wanted my sister to ask for fire sauce, she was hesitant to make any more proverbial waves. My brother became very quiet and he merely said, "Do I have to get serious? Do I have to say, "I want fire sauce, Damn it?"
Always it is making me laugh. Alwaaaaayyyss. Now Lemur wants me to play with him and I wanna: having completely forgotten what I was talking about. Testimony to the lack of sleepy-things.
Time for going. I hope that soon it will be time again for thinking. I miss thinking. I miss being brilliant and loving and having people go: "Wow, you are so beautiful and so smart." As all cycles, it will come again. Most assuredly after I have had more sleep and something something.
Seriously: what day is it?