I’m Angry That

I came into the Leptich’s house, went in the kitchen, Oprah was on, overweight teens confronting their emotions, so I watched for a moment.  They went into this exercise led by this woman called “I’m angry that”  which can be used find out what people are really angry about deep down.

She pulled a kid out of the group and asked to finish the sentence and yelled “I’m angry at !” at her and the girl went off.  Soon these deep feeling of rejection, self-consciousness, suicidal thoughts, and all else came out and she was crying and venting a volcano of repressed feelings. Another Kid did it, and soon I was crying right along.  

I can be like a middle-aged wife left home alone to clean the floor and cry over Oprah in the afternoon.  I can’t handle the whole ‘standing in the face of other human’s real sorrow’ thing.  I get it from my mom, who bawls over movies about real wars and battles, where people really did lose their lives.  The reality of what it must be like hits me and, in my empathy, I soon breakdown like a weenie of the month.

But I’m not angry that I can breakdown over this stuff.

I’m angry that people have to go through such nightmares.

sometimes.

sometimes when i drive home, like late tonight, i can't imagine my life headed anywhere at all, and i just expect God to send some car flying from a side-street through a stop sign at me. i'd die in that automobile accident and pop up in heaven and be like "ok, THAT explains why my life has been like it has been lately"

but sometimes i don't feel like that.

Tinman Blog.

after much research, or none, ive decided.
I have no heart.
i'm like a waste of an artichoke, you get to the center of me and its blank.
i don't know if i can feel anything. i think not.
wait- scratch that, i can. i can worry and feel anxious, get lonely, laugh, feel unloved, feel appreciated, i can feel the pleasures of a good scare, a good kiss, a good flick, a good game, or a good converstaion.
i can feel inspired, and know when my friends are disappointed in me, or that they love me, but in the feelings department i'm like a offshore bank.
i wonder if i'll ever be able to love someone and feel more than that common anxiety of wanting others to like you.
don't go dramatic on me, i'm not being sad or... dramatic.
but i know it.
i sit and observe myself, and become astounded at the pessimisms that have grown up and encased me
for a really open guy, its tough to get through to me arriving at "feelings"
friendship i got down, but too many girls have had to sit across from me, trying to unlock me like i was a vault or a rubik's cube.
i try to tell them that others have done so and found the treasure inside to be less than what they expected, less like treasure and more like constant frustration.
its not like i lock myself up like a vault.
its more like i'm an open vault, and you go in and find nothing.
no apologies, i told them it was empty.
oh well, no one beleives me.
i'm sure i'll fall in love one day.
"sure" being loosely equivalent to "why not, i'm a sexy beast"

I was reminded yesterday that God has chosen to give me a chance at love-relationships, and to have a wife.
will he really bring me someone who'll actually like me for me- a potty mouthed artist theologian with the ability to out-talk Rush Limbaugh ?

Chicks don't me cuz they can't push me around.
ha

or because i'm the weirdest human being alive (not including celebrities, who get paid to be stupid and weird)
or maybe i'm insanely lame.
i feel insanely lame, the books that i read even call me lame.

i'm reading Richard Dawkins and he's not as bright as he claims to be.
i'm tired of empty arguments that are more limp than a Mormon in his wedding day.
i think i'll go back to GK Chesterton and enjoy my life again.

i like a good salad too.