|
i've always felt like an outsider. even among outsiders. i can feel comfortable among many groups. and as an outsider in those same groups. some times i feel autistic. otherworldly. no disrespect to autistics or anyone who deals with or loves one. nor to martians. but i feel i have a kinship with them. both. the world is slightly off kilter, emotionally and physically. i sat for an hour or so with six hardcores in a room at rosewood institute in maryland by way of a paper in psychology. i felt them. i felt comfortable. i am not one who chews their skin off or bangs my head into walls, other than figuratively. but i felt an understanding. and especially with the one who stared at the wall for hours. i don't do that too much, i did while taking blotter acid as the wall was multidimensional and breathed. and i began to understand. there was the beginnings when at age three i was ephysiated by a slinky and brought back from the dead. that has happened twice, the dead part, and multiple times from seizures. at least from a sleep, but the second time was code "dead" (insert radio code #). but i think i've felt it. and i am one to withdrawal. go into a catatonia state. totally withdrawal, say fuck it to a world that doesn't really make sense to me. that i feel an outsider to. a world with aggression, that inflicts pain, suffering, and it wears you down, it's witnessed in subtle, quiet ways daily. we see it loudly through media outlets daily. we bear witness. and it wears me. so you escape. into something. a void, or something that helps one survive. if fortunate one throws themselves into something that means something to their life, existance. logic puzzles and numbers, sports, arts, technolgy, health, something. and if one can do that, do their passions, and survive in the world doing all the things you have to do -eat, roof, trans, electricity, and pay for them, then that's living and being able to wake up and gloriously survive. if you do something that does not hold passions, but allows you to spend the rest of your time doing your passion wholeheartedly, then you positively survive. if you don't do either of those, then you're not going to. you need to be passionate, if you're not, change directions to the things that make you passionate. you must. that was a tangent, but that's a philosophy of survival and passion. now back to outsider shit. it may be i've felt that way cuz the group that helped me survive economically i was not passionate with. i cared about them and was pasionate as human beings and had successful results in the areas i could help people and use psychology and stuff i was passionate about. but over all i wasn't in a business/work situation that i was passionate about. and in fact, the work did not allow me to fully enjoy my passions outside of work because thay were in conflict with it. and because of that i was in conflict with my passions. so thusly i felt like an outsider, or was an outsider, there, and among fellow outsiders because there i was percieved as an outsider, so therefore i was. so i also seemed to suffer from a kind of schizophrenia, a touch. there's a thin line. i was sort of a personality crisis. then there's that weird strain of amish heredity thing that causes siezures and "autistic like symptoms" (brightsurf.com). my grandfather was amish before he "left" the clan for electricity and gasoline. i use quotes cause nobody ever totally leaves anything without being touched. so i'm an amishman who was saved by electricty and the soundwaves it helps create. so i'm sure you're thinking "is he a hypocondriac?" ya think?! ..or was he saved as a young boy in february 1964, when with three teenaged girls (the burkholder sisters) he sat on the floor in front of a t.v, on a sunday night, mouth agape witnessing the invasion, the vanguard of the revolution. to be contiued (afuafos) and edited further. |
