Conflicted- It is the way that I spend my life

Yes, conflicted. If I am not conflicted about something I am not happy. It was a hard conclusion to come to. I like to think of myself as being low maintenance and easy going. And in many ways I am that guy, but there are layers upon layers that exist.

And not all of them are covered in flowers and sunshine. There are some darker spots that exist, little areas that don’t always get enough sunlight. Those are the areas that have crept up at odd moments in time and rocked me, sent my head spinning and senses reeling.

They are the feelings that make me want to run and howl beneath the moon. No really, I am serious. There are times when I feel like I could just run endlessly, for hours. And the feeling almost always hits me at night. I am old enough to recognize the signs and can anticipate when they are going to hit and what brings them on, but they still are strong.

I think that these feelings are part of why I enjoy fantasy. I get off on stuff like the Lord of the Rings. I love the tale of the tragic hero. The warrior who battles evil and goes through hell to reach the other side, but they always reach the other side.

And I see that in myself. Call it narcissism, call it meshugah, call it what you want. I accept it. Maybe because it just fits me. In the weight room I can lift as much or more than most people. If I put my mind to training the body I can bring real power. I love it.

Wrestling and football are great because it is power and will. Can I break you? I’ll use my mind and my strength to batter your defenses. I work all the time on learning finesse, but it is a task. I love playing chess, it is a great tool for strengthening the mind in all ways.

The raw emotion lends itself to writing. It is fuel, it drives the engine and pushes me to continue. I dare not stop, because if I did I don’t know if I could bare it. I need my outlets, I feel like an animal in a cage, constantly pacing.

I hope that my children do not get this side of me. It took a long time to get to this point. I don’t mind it anymore, I like who I am. And I know how to use this energy for positive efforts, but lord knows that I did some really stupid things with it.

Sometimes the best writing is that which is pulled out from your heart, the kind that is like bubbling magma. It is painful to read because you just tore out a piece of your heart and the exposure to air is rough.

I don’t know if I will read this again. I tend to spit this type of post out every couple of weeks and then I feel fine. Does it make sense? Doesn’t matter to me. All I know is that in a short time I will snap to work and the bills will be paid.

Thankfully I cannot see the moon, because if I could I’d chase it down. Like the fools of Chelm I’d figure a way to capture it inside a barrel, and there it would stay, instead of taunting me it would bring me pleasure.

Ok, this is far too hokey. Time to close the bar and pour me some coffee. The worst part is that I did this sap job without the influence of anything. No wonder I am going bald.

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Comments

  1. Jack's Shack says

    Thanks. Have to use the tools we are given. Play the hand that is dealt. That is the way the cookie crumbles, etc. 😉

  2. Nice post! I really like your thoughts on writing – what a beautiful way to articulate those things.

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