I'm so damn frustrated with people.
No, I won't judge you by your skin color, or wealth status, or your job - but I will hold you accountable for your choices, and decisions, past and present.
So many people want that part of them to be ignored. Their choices.
Big weekend ahead. Witches Ball, got an acting job, more house hunting...
And waiting... always waiting.
And this is why I can't talk to people about my problems.
There's no empathy or listening. Only responses, and so many people try to turn it into a "my problems are worse" pissing contest.
Back into my shell I go.
Most people do not know the art of listening and turn it around to be all about them. That ole saying, reason why we have two ears and one mouth.
Exactly. Well said. I know the intent might be to say that they understand because they've also had those experiences, but there's a difference between saying, "I know how you feel. I experience the same..." and, "Oh, if you think that's bad, let me tell you..."
I try to be empathetic to everyone. But when you've been smoking for 60+ years and now your lungs are a disaster that doctors can't do anything about, I'm not sure where to extend my empathy other than to the people who will miss you.
Weird.. I mean, weird dreams last night. Probably because someone stepped back into my life after quite the absence. It kind of set the day off on the wrong foot. Emotional consequences, very much due to the actions of others, all coming back in my memories, and washing over me in the form of dreams.
Perhaps it's autumn. This always seems to happen in autumn - everything in my life changes at once.
Have to keep pushing through to my goals, and not worry about anything that is hitting me right now.
The purge has begun.
The house is getting emptier by the day....
I refuse to "like and share to send prayers for this sick person" posts that you put on Facebook.. .
It's not that I don't care about the sick people. I care about all of them. I wish there were no sicknesses, but that's not how life is.
You know, life... the thing you give credit to that imaginary person you pray to for creating. Lives full of pain, and suffering, and illness, and children dying from diseases, and poverty, and people without clean water which is 100% necessary for health, and survival.
If that imaginary being actually existed, and your prayers meant a damn thing to it, it could have made live a lot less of a struggle, and a lot less painful from the start. But it didn't. You have what you have. People are sick. People are suffering. People are dying. Your "prayers" don't change that. Ever.
So cut the shit and maybe start electing politicians who follow science, and act with empathy, instead of the ones who follow imaginary beings with fictional stories, and act with greed. Maybe we can get somewhere curing these diseases you want me to pray over.
Another year has passed, and I'm still waiting....
If I had a dollar for every mile I've traveled....
In cosmic terms, I would have about 27,448,000,000 dollars...
Our 48-Hour project actually got noticed this year, and not for being one of the worst or not turned in on time for a change. I helped move this team of people who don't know how to make movies forward and make a halfway decent movie.
But apparently they've complained to the team leader that all of the communication problems stemmed from me.
I was too authoritative and didn't accept or do everything they wanted, as we had less than 48-HOURS to make a damn movie. Apparently I was supposed to both tell them how to do all of their jobs the right way, but also let them tell me how to do mine.
And the team leader disagrees with me when I say most of the people on the team don't know how to make a movie. I could write a story on all of the things they were supposed to be doing but I had to constantly ask them to actually do. Like, maybe on that one scene where I was laying in the street to film the right angle, at least one of the five of them could have intercepted the woman who was running over in a panic instead of letting her get all the way to me screaming into her phone about someone lying in the street?
We were friends. She wanted to be more than friends. Much more. She was smart, kind, generous, affectionate, and pretty.
But she had one fatal flaw.
She shaved her eyebrows and painted them back in.
If you're making that bad of a decision with your eyebrows, how can I trust any of your decision making?
Is she at least doing drag queen make up?
No, she wasn't. It was just her every day look.
Don't tell me eyebrows don't matter. THEY MATTER!
Oh no!! Why do some women do that? I think it makes them look a little alien-ish.
When you play the "I don't want to communicate" game, it's hard to get another person to understand what you want/need/feel/or even what you want to say, because you're not saying it.
Going to that concert last night reminded me as to why I don't go to concerts.
When did sacrificing all clarity and listenability get sacrificed for deafingly loud, and unlistenable? Who decided that was better than actually being able to understand, and recognize the music?
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