Young Writers Society

The Classic Rock Junkie Strikes Again

How was today? How will tomorrow be? Just another 24 hours as David Hume would say, for that is how we define days.

Why are formalities so important? When some one asks you about your day, the usual response is ‘fine’ or ‘okay’ when it is clearly not. For once I want to say ‘no, it is fucking purgatory’ and see what the response is, how the person reacts.

I’ve often thought that if I was born in any other epoca (the Spanish word for era, I feel it fits better here) I would be better off. Then I eat my take out Thai, and take a shower and think: I would make a miserable Peasant.

I often loose my inner monologue and find that I am talking to myself, but I am used to deviating, that is nothing new.

I don’t need therapy, I need to therapy myself.

The Western world and its Philosophies preset so many primal dualities: light versus dark being one, that I face the east and its blend, its acceptance. I do not know if it is the right way, but for me it is; its way of rivers instead of mountains, its transcendence of not being so fucking hypocritical that they ways of the West make me feel. I understand that the way I live and the beliefs I have work only for me, and not for anyone else. So I can not begrudge any one for their ideas, beliefs, feelings, their Dogma.

Question: what is the world’s obsession with labels? Why is it that we feel we need to label ourselves and others by religion, race, creed, sexuality, beliefs, techniques, obsessions…? Why should that matter to people? And why does it matter more than a person’s intentions, actions, words, and heart?

I have always gone without strict labelling of myself. They are only rules, a bar that will be eventually broken or passed over. It only makes you seem like a hypocrite, only makes you feel bad about actions or feelings done.

People should never regret in this life, should take responsibility, and in my own myopic colloquialism “Cry me a river, then build a bridge and get over it.”

There is too much energy spent on regret that could be fielded to more sensical places.

I also feel there is too much energy spent on hate as well.

They are functions of the reptilian brain showing we are species of brunt instinct and first impressions.

In conclusion to this wide range of thoughts, I quote a friend, “Just because I’m female, middle class, and white doesn’t mean I don’t have a voice.”