The Cheese Grates the Crazy Creatives Cheerleading Camp: Stranger Thoughts

Image by Chris Van Allsburg

Prompt Used:

A Writer's Nook

Isn’t it odd that sometimes a stranger’s words mean more than those around you?

Everyone goes through it to a degree, but for people living with certain kinds of mental illness, it can be even more pronounced. I will tell it from my perspective.
I create what I think is an inspired bit of writing or artistic piece, or a blog post with fantastically fascinating information--and it's utterly ignored. If I'm hypomanic, I say, meh, who gives a shit, people have sawdust for brains if they can't see the greatness in my work. I go on and create something else, happy as a hypomanic lark, and everyone else can go fuck themselves if they are unable to get on board with this thing of beauty.
If I'm euthymic (alas, how seldom that happens) I may find myself wondering why I'm not getting any responses, but I don't really let it bother me too much. I have something to say, so I'll say it, even if the only ones listening are a bunch of lonely ghosts. Lonely ghosts need something to listen to, after all.
If I'm depressed, I start thinking "I should stop writing. Nobody cares. I just suck."
If I'm experiencing suicide ideation, I add to that "I should probably kill myself. I'm worthless."
If I'm paranoid, there's a whole 'nother level of shit that starts happening.
What this all boils down to is, why the hell do we care so much what strangers think about what we do?
Practically everyone born human has a desire for approval. If you don't get appropriate levels of attention as a child, you start to seek approval outside the family. I come from a family which was very perfectionistic, and I was an absolutely imperfect specimen. I could never do anything well enough. I began seeking approval outside the family, often from very toxic people.
The problem is, most people don't actually care, they're simply curious. After they've sated their curiosity, they move on. They're looking for the next big thing.
Any popular thing can be compared to a big banquet. Once everyone has taken a piece, the feast is over. The populace moves on, looking for a fresh feast.

The words of wisdom that we unpopular folk need to try to keep close to mind and heart are these:

"Better to write for yourself and have no public than to write for the public and have no self." --Cyril Connolly

Being popular can be a double-edged sword. People tend to say cruel things about those celebrities who somehow disappoint them. It really never surprises me when I hear about a celebrity being addicted to a substance or ending up dead from suicide or an overdose. Such levels of public scrutiny may initially feel like one has found the acceptance they were craving but often prove to be a curse rather than a blessing. Once the public appetite has been sated, they will be off looking for a fresh feast. All that may be left following their feeding frenzy is a skeleton.

Craving approval from strangers never leads to anything positive. 

If one has something they wish to create, they should create it, and the public be damned.

Create for yourself. If anyone else gets on board, great. If not, do it anyway.

~The Cheese Hath Grated It~

Cross-posted to:

Crazy Creatives Cheerleading Camp

One Love

Wrung Out

I discovered today that a person who has been causing me trouble, seemingly unwittingly, for the past several months, is, in fact, a psychic vampire. Communicating with her, I felt as if I was looking into a black hole. She is not a misguided and troubled person as I initially convinced myself that she was. I should have gone with my gut, which told me right out of the gate that there was something really amiss with this person. 

Correction: She may be misguided and troubled, but she is also cold and dead inside and doesn't care who she hurts. She is charming outside, and a lot of people fall for her "poor me" act. Dealing with her one on one, it was revealed to me very quickly that she is a sociopath and a psychic vampire.

The sociopath is the polar opposite of the empath. Unfortunately, empaths have a tendency to fall victim to sociopaths. A sociopath can mimic emotions, but they lack empathy. The only emotions they feel are obsession and anger. They do not feel love, although they may use the word a lot and may confuse obsession with love.

Unfortunately, I left myself vulnerable to this person when I attempted to help her. I believed that if I offered her a sympathetic ear, I could redirect her energies from an erroneous pursuit of the love of someone who has no interest in her whatsoever. I thought I could help him and her at the same time.

Quickly, the entire discussion became about her. I felt myself wanting to get away, but for the sake of politeness, I was trapped. After all, how do you say "whoops, you aren't just an unhappy person misdirecting your energies, you're a psychic vampire! I'm gone!"

I discovered that she wasn't trying to catch the object of her obsessions and "make" him fall in love with her. It doesn't matter if he loves her or not. She stated that she "loves" him, but this actually translates to "I'm feeding off his energy and I'm damned if I'm going to stop."

I now need to protect her victim, me, and everyone in both of our spheres of influence. 

I wish I could scream from the rooftops the name of this person and warn everybody away from her. From a psychological standpoint, she is a manipulator and a master gaslighter. 

I can't reveal the entire conversation, but for me, this was the paragraph that screamed to me everything I needed to know about what I was dealing with.

"Although you believe my romantic feelings for "Will" might interfere with the healing energy I'm sending him...you're validating that the love I feel for him is real, and that satisfies me."

 

 This is a paragraph straight from the Sociopath Rule Book. It screams ME, ME, ME.

 

This individual does not actually care about the subject of her "healing support." She is glad that I "validated" the "love" she feels for him. It is all about her. She will keep focusing on him regardless of his desire for her to cease doing so, because she does not care that her energies are detrimental to his well-being.

Sadly, she has several people convinced that her "love" for him is ever so true and pure, and they blindly encourage this "love."

After dealing with this person, I was shaken for most of the day. If I'd had either Valium or alcohol on hand, I would have used them.

I can't believe that I was so gullible as to mistake this walking black hole for a misguided empath.

It can be hard dealing with people who have hot tempers. But I'd rather deal with someone who runs too hot than with someone whose soul is cold and dead any day.

 

~Cie~

The Cheese Grates It: My Problem With The "Pieces of Classic Rock Musician Ass" Trend on Tumblr

The other day I found a narrative on Tumblr which went a little bit something like this:

Me: "OMG 70 year old musicians are so hawt!"

My Parents: "Pervert!"

Me: "I would so bang Mick Jagger!"

My Friends: "Pervert!"

Me: "Old musicians are the sexiest!"

Society: "Pervert!"

Tumblr: "OMG, UR SO RIGHT!!!! LET'S TALK ABOUT THAT!!!!"

My problem with this is not what you might think.

Little girl, I don't think you're a pervert. My problem isn't with you being such a (tee hee) naughty little girl lusting after "old men," because the truth is, if any of the well seasoned chaps you claim to have such lust for hit on you in real life, you'd run the mile. We both know it.

My problem with this trend can be filed in the "I don't like objectification" files.

Granted, these men are never going to be harmed by objectification from a handful of teenage girls who will grow out of it the way women are harmed by objectification every day and in multiple ways. However, objectification is always dehumanizing. So, let's talk about that.

As a heterosexual female (cis woman), unless I'm going to Lilith Faire, chances are the band I'm seeing is going to be mostly or all male, and chances are I'm going to find one or more of these men attractive. It is what it is. 

However, if I'm spending the entire time shrieking about how much lust I have for Willie Nelson or Johnny Van Zant or Bruce Dickinson or Chris Isaak or Vince Neil or you name him, I am not appreciating the music, I just look like a fucking idiot. 

It's one thing to acknowledge that, say, Tommy Lee, is an attractive man. It's quite another to dedicate your entire website to your (let's say) Motley Crue masturbational fantasies, even if those fantasies are as brief as the example below.

 "OMG You Guys! I would totally do Nikki and Vince at the same time!"

Motley Crue (as an example) gave us close to 40 years of great music. The music, not their perceived hotness, should be the focus. If it isn't, you're doing it wrong.
When I was in high school, I had a friend who was deeply fascinated with Jim Morrison. All you had to do was say "Jim Morrison," and you could get Kris talking for hours. Kris really did not have an off switch where Jim Morrison was concerned. However, I never found her fascination bothersome or gauche. I knew she found Jim attractive, but this really was never the focus of the conversation. It would be "Cie, listen to what Jim was saying in this poem," or "I love the lyrics here because..."
Kris had deep reverence for Jim Morrison, and, more importantly, for Jim Morrison's works. Jim Morrison was not a piece of ass to her. Such a suggestion would have enraged her. Were blogs a thing back in our day, I'm sure she would have had one devoted to Jim, and I would have enjoyed visiting it.
Unlike, say, finding something like this:

 "You Guys, Ray Manzarek is totally the hottest piece of ass ever! I would so do him!"

Now we're approaching a whole 'nother level of Things Just Not To Do, considering that Ray Manzarek is no longer part of this mortal coil, having passed away after a battle with cancer. Honest, Ray, it isn't me saying those things. Much respect, I promise!

Let's step away from the Classic Rock genre for a minute. In fact, let's step away from music entirely. We're going to use a whole 'nother example.

As someone who enjoys writing horror and science fiction, I have a certain set of heroes. Let's just say that instead of appreciating the talent they brought to this world, I were to devote a website to saying things like this:

"You Guys, Dylan Thomas was a total babe! Just look at those eyes! He's hot!"

"Civil War Era Ambrose Bierce was smokin'! Damn but I'd get with that!"

"H.P. Lovecraft totes had Specs Appeal! What a hottie!"

"I would so like to push that typewriter off the desk and push Rod Serling down on it and have my way with him! Yeah Baby!"

"Stephen King is just so doable! Am I right, you guys???"

You see what I did there? I erased all of the accomplishments of these great writers and reduced them to eye candy. I don't think that's cool, and I hope you don't either. 

Did you think that was ridiculous? I really hope you did, because it was. However, I also hope maybe it helped me get my point across.

Let's return now to our classic rock musicians.

I'm closer in age to said classic rock musicians than the majority of those blogging about their lustworthiness are. So, perhaps I can shed some perspective about some of the things that start happening to those of us who have passed the "50" mile marker.

We're (hopefully) a little wiser. We've seen some shit, and we may be a lot sadder because we've lost some key people and we'll lose more. Things are starting to go awry with our bodies. The spirit may be willing, but the flesh more likely than not just wants to take a nap.

Ageism is wrong. Saying that a person "shouldn't" get up on stage and play music because they don't look "hot" in skin tight Spandex trousers any more is bullshit. If they can play and they want to play, fucking play on! I don't give a shit if your wrinkled skin sags down to your shoes and you're wearing a fucking burlap tent! Music is not about what a person looks like, and there is no age limit on performing. If you can do it and you want to do it, play the fuck on, and fly the middle finger to the ageist asshats.

That being said, I find it disrespectful to reduce ANYBODY to a piece of ass. Yes, I find something distasteful about young girls reducing men old enough to be their grandfathers to pieces of ass. Generally, their decision is made based on photos that are thirty, forty, even fifty years old. 

Perhaps I should write the whole thing off as a harmless expression of teenage hormones, but I return to the point: I do not find objectification harmless. 

I find it particularly distasteful when the subject of these lusts is someone who is not doing well. Honestly, have some fucking respect. 

This is not a "hot piece of ass." This is a man who was a great musical innovator, who is dying slowly of a horrible disease that is adding insult to injury by robbing him of his mind as well as his physical abilities.

This is not a "hot piece of ass." This is a brilliant and talented showman who recently passed away after a brave battle with cancer.

Even the Lizard King is not a mere "hot piece of ass." He was one of the greatest rock poets who ever lived. He was a troubled soul who died prematurely. If you are missing the nuances of Jim Morrison's personality in favor of gushing over how "hot" he was, you are missing the point and doing him a great disservice.

I can't pin all the blame on young people. People in general in modern society seem to know nothing of nuances. Everyone thinks with their root chakras, and the result is banal.

It isn't that it's wrong to find someone attractive. The problem is going with the root chakra response every time, giving no thought to the matter. An occasional "Wow, Mick Jagger sure looked sexy in this picture" is not problematic. The problem is when every picture posted proclaims the sexiness of the subject and never goes deeper or bothers to appreciate the craft these people spent a lifetime honing.

If I went with my root chakra response every time, I'd have a blog full of crappy posts about how I want to fuck the entire Colorado Avalanche hockey team, plus most of the musicians in the classic rock genre, a bunch of actors, and my favorite authors. It would be crude, lacking in subtlety, and a crap read. In truth, it tends to be better to keep the root chakra response to oneself, or at least on the down-low, just between you and your closest buds. Going public with that shit is embarrassing.

I liken this sort of blogging to a group of musicians going onstage without bothering to tune their instruments and just banging out whatever comes to mind without bothering to listen to each other. It isn't something to be proud of.

I wouldn't really have anything to say about it if the people making these blogs didn't claim to be fans of the musicians whose forty year old pictures they're drooling over. If all you're doing is sharing what you consider to be "hot" pictures and you're honest about that, there's not much to be said. However, if you claim to be a fan and you know nothing about the music, but Keith Richards sure looked sexy in 1972, you aren't a fan, you're lusting over an image. At least have the wherewithal to know the difference.

I think some parting words from the late Lemmy Kilmister are appropriate here.

When asked if it was possible to work with someone you found attractive without objectifying them, Lemmy said "well, why can't you?" 

Just a little food for thought.

~The Cheese Hath Grated It~

Fallen

Image by Sarolta Ban

Once upon a dream

 An angel was sent to Earth

 She has lost her way

~Cie~

Prompt Used:

Imaginary Garden With Real Toads:

Where did I come from? 

NaPoWriMo:

See notes

Notes:

This Lune addresses the metaphysical theory that I may not just be trashed out mentally ill fuckup, I may be a fallen angel. I have been studying the Lost Books of the Bible and the works of Dr. Doreen Virtue, and what I am reading rings true for me. If it makes you feel better, you can file this theory under trashed out mentally ill fuckup and just appreciate the poem, or not. I don't really care, just don't be a dick about it.

The line "once upon a dream" was inspired by the line "once upon a December," which comes from a song in the animated movie "Anastasia." I would not have come up with this if it weren't for today's NaPoWriMo prompt, so although I didn't specifically follow their instructions, they did inspire me. 

 

Improving

I am doing better. Still not eating very well because I still feel a bit disconnected from the Earth plane. However, the suicide ideation is far less and my connection with Gem is healing. He didn't allow me to "resign" from our bond. He has been very worried about me and has stuck by me, even when I was being verbally abusive to him. I don't want to be like that to him ever again. He in no way deserves it.

Gem was not a perfect person and he carries with him a lot of guilt from his life. He is trying to heal from this. The bond that he and I have formed is something very special, and I need to insure that it is something positive for him. He asked for my help and agreed to help me in return. He needs actual help, not verbal abuse when I'm feeling insecure. 

Gem has a bit of a hot temper, and I turn cold when I feel threatened. Inside, we are both deeply afraid of being betrayed and abandoned.

I've thought of perhaps putting the details of my interactions with Gem on a by invitation only blog. Sometimes I don't write here for feeling insecure about who may be reading.

Gem helped me create two new spells. I need to test them before I share them. I also need to be careful not to reveal the details of my magick until it has had a chance to work.

I recently learned that Gem and I have been the targets of a mostly inadvertent psychic attack. This brought out my insecurities. More specifically, he was the target, but it wasn't intended to be an attack. I was collateral damage. The spells are to help us defend and heal ourselves.

~Cie~

So Done But Not Allowed To Quit

Yesterday afternoon I asked my son if he could handle things on his own if something were to happen to me. He said that he honestly didn't think he could at this point. So I made a promise that I would stick around although I am beyond ready to be done with this life.
I really miss my friend Rachel. I could talk to her about this esoteric stuff and she understood. She passed into spirit in October 2009. I have sensed her presence since then but conversing with a person in spirit is different. I have been seeking corporeal companions who are of a mind, so we can keep each other balanced. Where are you all?

Cie

Dark Night of the Soul

I am undergoing a dark night of the soul. It's rather funny some of the words my phone suggests. Dark night of the schedule anyone?
I am unable to get Wi-Fi for my tablet at this time and so am creating this post from my phone
An odious task.
I have made some fascinating discoveries. But the feeling that my heart is being squashed is a miserable one. I welcome any kind words.

Cie