Pico de Orizaba

Pico de Orizaba
Taken from Huatusco, Veracruz, the closest town to Margarita's family's ranch.

Thursday, June 26, 2014

BASTARD! Just a brief note on postings or unpostings or rough drafts etc...

I believe this blog is supposed to be somewhat cathartic... I believe it was created for sharing my story, that I believe can be constructive, informational or inspirational for others.  I also believe that it is one way of expressing myself with the written word and hopefully at times creatively.  

I'm not a fiction writer.  And the reason I'm not a fiction writer is because I have extreme difficulty inventing stories.  I do believe that many writers express and deal with their greatest concerns, fears and traumas in a finctional manner in order to separate it from themselves while also working them out.  It could be a constructive form of dissociation; let's say conscious dissocation... or maybe it isn't conscious.  I also believe that some writers project their fantasies about who they wish they could be and who they aren't upon their characters and in a way live vicariously through their characters.  As that person who may have wished they could have been a writer (when pulling the "career" or talent or creative possibilities down from the sky), the idea of creating a Ross that isn't or wasn't could be very enticing.  But, I am not that person, that writer either.  

I believe in fantasy.  But only to a certain extent.  

But, back to the blog and this brief note...

I have only one life.  It is the life I've lived.  I don't know any other life.  Nor do I know any other people than those I've met and possibly known over the past 45 years.  I've struggled many years with encountering my truly greatest skills, talents or attributes that could create economic and personal stability for creating a secure and successful future.  I don't have time or the economic luxury for playing games...  I believe that in order to become a successful fiction writer, one must devote much time, energy and money to that endeavor without ever having the guarrantee of being published and rewarded economically living with great social (seeming very self-centered and not devoting enough time to those who wish for more interpersonal time) and economic risk (not taking more economically secure jobs that require the time necessary for developing stories and following creative inspiration).  At this point in my life I don't feel I have that luxury; not for writing creatively; not for developing a body of painted works for developing myself as a professional artist...

I have time for developing myself, for nurturing my relationship with Margarita and for creating what I call "home"...  

A few weeks ago I found myself caught up in a very long-term struggle with my "family"... And I wrote a series of "new" pieces basically communicating directly with them... However, although the writings are factual, having them on the blog "burned holes in me"... so I returned them to draft form, meaning that they are saved on my blog, but not for public view.  It wasn't where I wanted to be... within what I wanted to be obsessing.  I have many other much more productive interests, such as my current exercise regime and studying progressive nutrition and health...  The past holds us back.  It weighs us down... It is real.  It is what we lived.  It may not have been lived the same way by those who shared space and time and aspects of experiences with us.  All we truly have is today and how we project ourselves foward.  I believe in a productive, progressive and proactive life. I don't "like" sharing time and space with people who I don't find inspirational who are trapped in their modalities, fantasies/illusions and who aren't progressive and proactive...  I don't mention productive because many people who are "stuck" are also productive...

If you aren't interested in what interests me, then why waste your time with me?  If what worries me, doesn't worry you, then maybe I'm not that important to you... So, why waste your time with me?

I would have liked to be famous; successful in that form.  But, I must ask myself, Ross, truthfully, what is the need driving that desire for fame?  And I found the answer:  To prove to everyone who didn't believe in me or that I was worth something that that wasn't true.  But, with that response to that introspective moment I burst the bubble of a useless fantasy, desire.  

One must do what one truly enjoys and desires and not because of what they project upon known and unknown others; not because of what they believe will be someone else's response.  If I don't love my painting, then it doesn't really matter what the other person says...  When I love the run, it isn't because of how I imagine they see me running.  When I enjoy a book, it isn't because of the information I will share with others leading them to say how well-read I am.  

When I think of myself and who I am and what I have to share with others, truthfully, I don't know just to what extent they will appreciate me.  Truthfully, I don't have any control over whether another person will want to spend quality time with me.  And, I can't guarrantee the same for another person. That difficult lesson began very early in my life:

I learned that I couldn't keep my father from dying or giving me his genes.  I didn't have control over my Uncle Stan's or Sheri's behaviors to me in early childhood.  I couldn't keep my mother from becoming how she became with my father's death.  I couldn't make my Uncle Henry my Father (don't believe for a moment that that was a fantasy; but he was the closest adult male role model I had; very sporadic and distant).  I couldn't prevent my elementary and middle school peers from picking on me.  I couldn't prevent Beth from doing what she did...  All of my confronting my mother in adolescence and young adulthood and later on in adulthood was basically fruitless because she is how she is.  I wish I could have understood all of this 25-30-35 years ago.  I would have saved myself a hell of a lot of time and energy.  But I didn't.  

Life is a learning process.  An evolutionary process... sometimes slow and "boring"... seemingly fruitless.  Sometimes incredibly rapid and intense.  But, truly tying things together and understanding what you should truly be doing with your time and energy (and money) at the moment me not occur until just before your 45th birthday...  

And maybe my mother and sisters and other family members are calling me BASTARD!  But, when you truly look up that term in the dictionary... or, better yet, you see it referenced in characters of very important novels, you realize that that is exactly what my mother made me...  Bastard isn't truly a boy who doesn't know who is his father or who knows his father, although his father doesn't know him or accept him... It is also the son of a man who died when the boy was very young and the mother acts in ways that truly negate the importance of that boy's father and at the same time neglects and/or abuses that boy.  

So, read about the trajectory of the bastard boys and how they grew up and overcome their bastardness and become successful men... if they actually become successful men.  It all depends upon what you consider success.

And this brief not has suddenly become not so brief.

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