For the past nine months, I have been gallivanting around the globe with one of my truest and dearest friends. But, for the past two weeks (a drop in the bucket by comparison) I have been trekking on my own to Amsterdam, Copenhagen, and Budapest. We were supposed to rendezvous in Hungary but, because of a mechanical malfunction on her flight, we will have to wait until Sunday when we arrive in back in Prague. Traveling on my own was like hitting the reset button for my mental health, then trying to blow on the N64 cartridge to get the fucking shit to start up again. I felt glitched, out of sorts, like I ceased to be myself.
What is home? Is it where you can hang your hat? Is it where the heart is? Or is it where you can comfortably take a shit?
Neither alcoholics Anonymous nor Narcotics Anonymous has ever really been for me. The gossip between members and continuous dialogue about giving yourself over to a higher power never buttered my bread. I was looking for a Socratic-style discussion group rather than the single file confessionals that I kept finding.
Mantras are tools of power that has been around for a few millennia. They are formidable, ancient, and they work. They are symbols of their users’ intent to change their own minds through active and purposeful thought. There are several ways people use mantras because guess what? A mantra can be anything you want it to be.
Fuck off. What the actual fuck does that mean? Whenever I was confronted with a nerve-wracking situation, someone would offer me the sage advice “just be yourself”.
The first day of school? Just be yourself. Going on a date? Just be yourself. Going to an interview? Just be yourself. Hmm, interesting but have you ever considered this: WHO AM I? How can I be myself if I have no idea what that means?
I was a really well-mannered kid. I always did well in school, I was polite, hardly ever caused any trouble, and was well liked by my teachers and had friends. So what changed? Why did I feel the need to rebel at all? Well, I hated myself, so I guess that’s where rebellion started to swell. It was like a pulse. It was a part of me that I was denying, one that I could feel knocking on the door of the interior of my mind hoping for release. I have been reading a lot of poetry lately, and apparently now feel like I’m full of wit…man. If you understood that joke, congrats on graduating high school, or just you know, bettering yourself with literature that isn’t your daily horoscope. Read More
I blame Hollywood. Our society has completely engulfed itself around the idea that romantic love and intimacy is the ultimate form of happiness, and I blame Hollywood. Oh and old people, I blame old people too. Former generations may be a more eloquent way of putting it. But if you met me in real life my elocution is more like electrocution. I digress…