Ah, the golden age of communication where I can remotely connect a portable computer to a wireless internet server and confess openly my sins to an uncaring world. Yes, I am currently committing a serious breach of my lower sugar diet at the famous Top Pot Donuts. I am on the second of three donuts, washed down with a latte cup's worth of the house coffee. The only consideration given is that the sugar in the coffee isn't processed white. Aren't I so health-minded? The fun part is I get to confess my sin freely, and then tinge it with guilt, and my exhibitionism of my sordid simple sin somehow absolves me. Ah, to be an American. And these are really damn good donuts.
This really is guilt-eating in a way, as in less than two hours, I will be off to the Seattle branch of Jewish Family Services, where I will utilize the same job counselor, and look into what other services I might qualify for, as I did when I first moved here. There is nothing finer than qualifying yourself as a heretic, free of the hold of your birthright, and then go right out and exploit that birthright for all its worth. The same friend online, mentioned in my last entry, has been doing a fine job of indicting me on my need for my Jewishness, and I always hate it more when the indictment is correct. But really, I am less a Jew, than I am a narcissist, willing to use anything in my arsenal to get what I need without paying the greater cost for it. And this is an indictment I call down from the bench onto myself, because it is a wholly larger flaw in the supposedly anarchic set of "new rights" I am supposed to be living.
Oddly things like this unify me to humanity than remove me further, as I am finally realizing the immense power of cultural and religious identity that humanity uses everyday to find a way out of their suffering through emotional deflection of actual contextual reality. I talk about removal of identity to free one's self from the need for an absolute reality to some people, and I might as well be speaking in tongue and frothing about the corners of my mouth. Yet, I allow myself to be irrevocably identified, even if in a total secular way, with being a member of the Chosen People, forever cursed by God to suffer oppression and hatred, onto violence, to mark that covenant. You know what, look at the modern fundamentalist Christian, and you'll see a non-Jew who is a quick learner.
I wager that my blog entries of late seem to be some guilty confessional against things I am unwilling to act against, and endlessly repeat to myself, transmitted by word to others here, so to justify my individuality. I have no problem saying that there is truth in that appearance, which is all the more sad. But whatever happens, whatever kvetch and holler I scribe, I am still remembering my own personal convenant, made when I awoke in soft restraints at Ben-Taub's ER, with a day of my life ripped from my memory, that I will never stop confronting myself and questioning how I live, because there really is a better way. Of that one thing, I am sure.
Okay, I have to go, even if I didn't finish the third donut. Wastrel, I am. I'm going to try to talk to the job counselor without falling back into guilt and regret as the burden of my life. I make a lousy Sisyphus.
This really is guilt-eating in a way, as in less than two hours, I will be off to the Seattle branch of Jewish Family Services, where I will utilize the same job counselor, and look into what other services I might qualify for, as I did when I first moved here. There is nothing finer than qualifying yourself as a heretic, free of the hold of your birthright, and then go right out and exploit that birthright for all its worth. The same friend online, mentioned in my last entry, has been doing a fine job of indicting me on my need for my Jewishness, and I always hate it more when the indictment is correct. But really, I am less a Jew, than I am a narcissist, willing to use anything in my arsenal to get what I need without paying the greater cost for it. And this is an indictment I call down from the bench onto myself, because it is a wholly larger flaw in the supposedly anarchic set of "new rights" I am supposed to be living.
Oddly things like this unify me to humanity than remove me further, as I am finally realizing the immense power of cultural and religious identity that humanity uses everyday to find a way out of their suffering through emotional deflection of actual contextual reality. I talk about removal of identity to free one's self from the need for an absolute reality to some people, and I might as well be speaking in tongue and frothing about the corners of my mouth. Yet, I allow myself to be irrevocably identified, even if in a total secular way, with being a member of the Chosen People, forever cursed by God to suffer oppression and hatred, onto violence, to mark that covenant. You know what, look at the modern fundamentalist Christian, and you'll see a non-Jew who is a quick learner.
I wager that my blog entries of late seem to be some guilty confessional against things I am unwilling to act against, and endlessly repeat to myself, transmitted by word to others here, so to justify my individuality. I have no problem saying that there is truth in that appearance, which is all the more sad. But whatever happens, whatever kvetch and holler I scribe, I am still remembering my own personal convenant, made when I awoke in soft restraints at Ben-Taub's ER, with a day of my life ripped from my memory, that I will never stop confronting myself and questioning how I live, because there really is a better way. Of that one thing, I am sure.
Okay, I have to go, even if I didn't finish the third donut. Wastrel, I am. I'm going to try to talk to the job counselor without falling back into guilt and regret as the burden of my life. I make a lousy Sisyphus.
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