Musings And Questions/Short Stories For The Mentally Tired

Ravings of a Madman, or Interesting Thoughts and Ideas from a High School Idiot

I think capitalism is stupid. There I said it. Call me a Socialist or Communist, but I think capitalism is stupid. However, I quite like democracy. I would rather that not die out, ever. Point is, I have an idea that most other people think is idiotic. Moving on from that small rant, girls. I am not gay or bisexual, so we need to keep that in mind. I have found that in relationships, I tend to be a long term partner. No romantic relationship I have ever had has lasted less than six months. I'm still friends with one of my ex's. Two others I lost contact with, and one hates me. The one who hates me is what most people would consider the 'crazy ex-girlfriend.' I don't think of her that way though. I think of her as the girlfriend who decided I wasn't right for her, and was also a little eccentric. Though, who am I to say that? I've been told by many friends of mine, and some of my family, that I am a sociopath, or quite a bit eccentric. I take both as fact now, though that doesn't help my case.

Jumping back, I now have another girlfriend. She really likes me, and I really like her. As of now, we have a mutual understanding on some socially, and generally conversationally inappropriate topics. It's strange, as I've never talked with someone in this same way. I'm not sure if I'm fully ok with this or not, but as I live now, I suppose I must be ok with it. Truly, it is a strange time for me, as I know there are at least three other girls at the school I go to (at the time of writing) that like me in a romantic sense, and a teacher that I had some years ago who thought of me as more than just her student. I made sure that didn't go anywhere, though I will say, my willpower was tested greatly during that year.

To remain on the subject of teachers, I have had some very interesting people teach me in my life. I've had one teacher who I suspect of being a terrorist sympathizer, though I shall not name them. The reason I suspect this is because of some of the ideas he taught in class, and what I once saw on his computer that I know was not supposed to be allowed by the school's network. I've had (as previously mentioned) a teacher who liked me in a non-standard way for her student. I've had an eighty-seven year old man teach me some economics when I was younger than most people who learn about economics. I've also learned from some people who were not good people in their younger days. I learned some interesting facts from a former mobster, I got some strange tales from an alcoholic, and learned some facts about drugs from a former thirteen year-old drug addict. When that person was only fifteen he was shooting up with a friend, and when he was paralyzed by the drugs they were doing, watched his friend inject gasoline into his bloodstream. That drug addict forced themself to go cold turkey the next day, and spent the next two weeks in bed, unable to get up or do anything without help from someone.

I've learned from a host of people things about the world that I didn't think were possible. Terrible horrible things, and wondrous, amazing things. I had a friend who grew up without toes. His body, for whatever reason, couldn't grow them. He was the best and fastest runner I have ever met. Could run a mile faster than I could walk two blocks. I had another friend when I was younger, whose life was saved by her cat. She was seven or eight years old at the time and found this brown recluse spider in her house. She didn't know it was poisonous as she was so young, and tried to pick it up. it had just gotten onto her skin when her cat swatted the spider off of her and killed it. She started crying as the cat had scratched her, but when her parents came to see what was wrong they realized what had happened.

I find that the little things, the small lessons that we learn from those around us through stories are the most important. A quote that I learned a while ago, 'If history were taught in the form of stories, it would never be forgotten.' Though I don't particularly like the man who said it, he at least understood that part of the world. All history is boring to everyone. However, that is because history always looks grey. It's not until you add colour, paint in the story behind it, that you can like history. You can memorize all of the events of World War 1. But until you look at the reasons it happened, what flared emotions and cautious thoughts happened beforehand, it's just a list of names, dates, and descriptions of what happened. There's no colour to make you think as if you were on that battlefield. Fighting for what you hoped was going to be your survival. It's impossible to know the true thoughts of anyone. You will never learn them, no matter how hard you try. But you can learn what exists on the fringes to those thoughts. The ideas surrounding the reality. This is part of why I'm writing this book. I've almost never in my life told something I believed to be completely and wholeheartedly true. But I'm always near it, always circling what I really mean and think. My feelings to everything in the universe will remain mine, and mine alone until the day that I pass from this world. But I will always leave every piece of the puzzle that is my emotions out in plain sight. You just have to listen to the way I phrase certain things to understand. 

-

I know that I have gone off on a series of rants that all lead into one another. But my point is this. I learned a way of thinking about people and their thoughts and emotions from a friend of mine a long time ago. This way of thinking was called the three hearts. Your first and outermost heart is what you show everyone. Wear it on your sleeve, and wear it proudly. Your second and central heart is what you show to those you are close with. Your nearest family and soulmate. Maybe your best friend. Your innermost heart, you must never show to anyone. To do this would give them complete control over you. For them to see your third heart, means giving up your life, and giving it to someone else, for them to do with as they please. This is the heart that I think of and muse about most often. How does one know where the second heart stops and the third heart starts? As I continue to go through school, I plan to learn more and more about the second heart, and what it means for others. I've been called very mature for my age by many people. I feel this to be true, as the deepest and most soul changing talks I've ever had, were philosophical talks with adults twenty or thirty years older than me. I wait for the day that I can have these talks with people my own age. I will sit on my ship of silent and observing postulation, and wait, as the seas of time flow past me. I will wait, and I will think, as I creep ever closer to the fog of death, waiting to take me from this world.