Musings of the JECTED: Closing

I am nearly 100 percent positive that my readers have noticed the fact that most of my blogs the past month have been following a certain theme. Yes 'JECTED' has has been the suffix of choice for the past few weeks, and I picked it for a specific reason. the root 'ject' means literally "to throw" and there isn't a single person out there that hasn't been thrown in some way in life, hell I am willing to bet many. 

I personally have been:

Dejected

Rejected(2)

Objected

Retrojected

Abjected*

Subjected*

Conjected*

I have shared 9 of my own musings in life in this jected series... well 3 are pending publish... but I do plan to put them up, only after the people that they involve read them first. But back to topic. I started this all because of one thing...my accident.

As I looked myself over in the mirror a few days after, the discoloration of my skin, the monumental discomfort from even the fastidious of movements, as well as a few lacerations to tell my tale, i remember wondering vacantly if any of the markings would leave a scar. Then i shrugged (mentally...since literally i didn't want to move anything.) and smiled. Because in retrospect I'm lucky, and there is literally no scar that my skin would carry that would compare to the ones I already have.


Everyone has literally had at least ten moments in life where they were 'jected' in some way, and no one walks away from being thrown without some sort of scar to show where you've been. 
Scars are the telltale signs of a wound that has healed. It is the marker for a moment in time that did not go as planned. The funny thing about scars is that regardless of how innocuous or how horrific they are, the fact that it is there means that you healed. That in some way you have recovered from the incident that caused the scar. Bearing the scar does not mean that you are flawed. It does not make any less of a person. Scars are just evidence of life.

A scar tells more of a story than something as pedestrian as a tattoo ever will. A scar comes from living life. Scars pay tribute to survivors, like medals for heroes scars are earned by those who have made it through the fire. 
To be honest, I wouldn’t be interested in a person without scars. Scars are proof that life is worth living and wounds will heal. Scars are beauty meets toughness
and toughness is made of our soul, scars can be read like a map pointing to each characteristic of yourself leading the way to who you truly are.

Read like a history book they can tell our story without words they can speak. The unseen scars I acknowledge even more, because they bare witness to the struggles in the shadows. 

So, keep the scars in mind the next time you're 'jected' in a way. Your scars make you, and there is always beauty in the breakdown.

• at 8:11 PM
• Posted by Lady Apathy

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Musings of the twice rejected....

Views on rejection-

Rejection is part of a person's life. Apparently anyone who wants to make it needs to learn to face rejection bravely, gracefully, and frequently.

When you receive a negative response, make sure you learn from it, and that you always have a new project underway, something that will give you hope no matter how many rejections come your way for the previous project.

I am an occasional writer.  When I get inspired, pieces in my dropbox typically seem to fall in the category of love.  I am a firm believer that love exists in many forms: a mother to a child, a friend to a friend,  selfless love leading to action in order to help humanity….as well as of course romantic love.  Many of the famous songs of old are about the passion and perils of romantic love….finding love, heartbreak, the ache of unrequited love….life and literature is ripe with tales and woes of romantic love.  Love may at times seem elusive….and barriers to love exist, as we all know.

I see this truth when I examine myself and my own desire for, and yet skittishness toward, romantic love.  It can be hard, at times, for me to be vulnerable in this area. Rejection is a part of the elusive search for romantic love.  Who likes rejection?  No one.  It is painful and raw.  However, often the process to achieving romantic love will involve rejection, either in dating rejection or in pain from past relationships and break-ups.  Rejection can transcend romantic love, however…. Rejection is a fact of life, whether it be in the career field or more relational in nature.  Vulnerability is needed in order to find romantic love, but all too often walls are put up to safeguard one’s heart, and to not be hurt any more than one has already been hurt.  These walls are problematic, however, and need to be dismantled in order to find a successful outcome in a dating or marital relationship. But... for now theyll stay. 

• at 4:16 PM
• Posted by Lady Apathy

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Musings of the retrojected...

Ah... to be retrojected. A word that use to sum up a large bulk of my life, so I am more than familiar with the word. But for those who arent:


retroject [ˌrɛtrəʊˈdʒɛkt]

vb

(tr) to throw or project backwards 

[from retro- + -ject as in project]

retrojection  n

Yes. There have been several times in my life where I have thrown myself backwards on my path to moving forward... all because of the weaknesses that are attached to falling in love. I don't really talk about personal views on love and heartbreak, but I feel the need to now because several people that I love are going through their own personal retrojection issues. Not to mention I seem to have quite a few readers that I don't know, and whose to say they aren't going through or haven't gone through the same.


Broken hearts are perverse little things. Whoever said that “Time heals all wounds” was either ignorant or suffering from denial. Now you could try ingesting your favorite alcoholic beverage, you can dull the pain of a heartbreak, hell, you can drown yourself and purge that sensation. However, the next day you are left to reel from the after effects of your overindulgence. The next day, not only does the pain come back with a vengeance, you’re also besieged with the feeling that the world has just split in two. Sheer discord and bedlam echo in your mind, the pain is ringing in your ears, as you suffer from one colossal hang over.


Time does not heal wounds, it only numbs the ache. It gives you the illusion that everything is over and done with, it gives you the comfort to go on with your life. To live with the pretense that your heart never suffered the blow. Time allows you to bury the memory to the farthest recesses of your mind, that is, of course till that hapless the day that something or someone happens to slash the wound open again.
You can turn to the powers of denial, that it doesn’t hurt, and that you’re over it. You can run, you can hide, you can change your name, and move to some distant continent – but then, broken hearts have the rather odious power to follow you where ever you go. In the end, you will be reduced to the same person that you were the moment it happened. You can try to find somebody new, to somehow allow yourself the chance to start fresh, but then, it does not work out, you are yet again reeling from another crippling sensation, which leaves you wondering why?


Broken hearts are like weeds, no matter how you try to do away with them in haste, they will always keep coming back to suck the life out of your garden. If one is not able to properly come to terms with the feeling, you will never be free from it. The past prevents you from moving on, because you have not found the power to heal from the festering wound in your heart.


So what do you do? Do you keep running away from it, only to collide into same feeling in your quest of denial? Or do you face the demon head on and finally lower it to its grave?


The power to heal can easily be found within ourselves. We spend so much time wallowing in a self imposed state of hell that we don’t see things clearly. We create our own demons after all. No one can truly break your heart unless you give them the power to do so.


Instead of moving on and forging on ahead.We do the dumbest thing, hurt ourselves by looking back…


It’s time to run away. Far away from the grave where the demons of our broken hearts lie resting. It’s time to run away, and leave the place where we have lost ourselves. Most people (as I have been once) are under the misconception that the only place we can find again is with the person we lost ourselves with. And that's not true. Once you lose yourself in a person you will NEVER EVER get that part of you back, so you have to discover a new you. It’s time to run away, and never look back again… It's quite a freeing feeling.

• at 8:45 PM
• Posted by Lady Apathy

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Love lost

My personal laptop, ADAM, took a turn for the worst at 3:39 pm yesterday. When he got sick I at first tried to coax him through myself, and after seeing no progress I had immediately rushed him to geek squad to do a complete screw removal so that we could take a look inside, but alas he was too far gone.

 He was a good laptop. I first met him browsing the web  in December at my friends house before Christmas shopping. He had caught my eye from the corner of Facebook and I didn't hesitate to click the Dell add to introduce myself and become better acquainted. December 2011, almost a year ago and I still remember it like it was yesterday. The spark was instant. And though it was a forbidden love, that would send my shopping budget for Christmas through the roof, I desired him as much as he desired me. 

 What can I say? I was drawn to his sleek design, and wide screen though he managed to stay so thin. (Yes size matters.)  The way his numpad accentuated his “full” sized keyboard and enabled with GPS as if to tell me “if we love each other we will always be connected” . But most of all, it was his optional color finish. Yes Adam was unafraid to show his feminine side of flowers and purples, even pink if i deemed it my desire, though he was manly enough to handle an AMD Quad Core A8-3500M APU2.4Ghz processor. 

 I couldn’t stop thinking about him, though my friends  insisted I get him out of my head, that I could find someone better at best buy. Forbidden desire or not, I needed him. So I paid whatever it took total of 799.99 to get him back to GA with me, to my house, and subsequently into my bedroom. We were perfect together. My friends would jealously hover over us telling me how lucky I was, that we were a cute couple, and to hold on to him, because he was unique. But I didn’t need their approval, he had already captured my heart, customized just for me. 

 At first, I was afraid to love, I had been hurt in the past. I knew laptop love was fleeting and it had been so long since my last commitment, but I told myself that he was special and worth the vulnerabilities and the fear. We would work together, study together, but it was the times that we would goof off watching videos that meant the most. And the nights…. Oh those late nights unable to sleep so I would turn to him for some TLC.  He would let me stroke him for hours until I was no longer bored or eventually fell asleep. He had his faults though, occasionally hed burn my thighs after I exhausted him time and time again. But it was all worth it, even knowing I’d have to say goodbye someday since he only had a few years to live. But I knew I would stay with him until the very end. Never trading him for a new model, though there were several  Apple sluts that attempted to catch my eye.

Years would have been a luxury, but we made seven months mean something. We traveled the together, even made it to Dominican Republic. It was always his dream to go there. And now he’s gone…and I think of all the time wasted in apprehension. I have my work laptop, but it isn't the same... And how I wish that I could take that back and have a little more time. Now the best that I can do is vow that I will never be afraid to love again. I’ll never let the past, the fear of the future, the fear of rejection, or the fear of letting another in effect my relationship. I vow to spend every second I can loving my next laptop, unashamedly and unfaltering.

I LOVE YOU ADAM

• at 4:25 PM
• Posted by Lady Apathy

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Musings of the objected.....

"So let go, jump in
Oh well whatcha waiting for
Its alright because
There's beauty in the breakdown."


The fact that pain is one of the most beautiful manifestations of the human condition is often littlecomfort when, say your foot is stuck under the dresser you've just dropped on it. But the song lyrics still rang true.
Now I'm farrrrr from a sadist but for some reason I feel grateful to be a part of the pain the people around me indure. Its not actually that I cause the suffering..because I don't. But its something about them allowing me to see them at their most vulnerable time that shows me that the are truly alive. That moment when they feel the gut wrenchin emotion can be like finding a pulse on a person whose been flat lining as the people aroun them squeeze their eyes tight and hold their breaths. I just wish I could find that for myself, someone that can be truly find the beauty in my breakdown as opposed to shying away from it.


To be fair, many people I know have endured their fair share of pain. They’re brave as hell. And I won’t go so far as to say that each of them should count their blessings every night that they have suffered, because I hate to see anyone I care about hurting. But there is something truly spectacular about pain, something magical almost.


We rage against it, our minds drawing their whips and lashing out against it’s arrival. But still it comes, sneaking in at just the moment we let our shoulders relax. Suddenly, it’s there.


Sometimes that pain is bright and colorful, a spectacle in the night sky, illuminating the murky air. Sometimes it’s penetrating, a deep ache that moans from within. Sometimes we don’t know it’s there, hiding in the recesses of our souls, until suddenly we do, and we can no longer not look. But whatever shape it takes, however deep it’s roots reach, our pain is our smelling salts, drawing us awake and out of the unconscious abyss.


As hard as we rail against it, we are no match for pain. But suffering – that’s another story.
Pain we must endure because that’s the cost of admission to humanity. But suffering is a choice, one that comes when we do all the raging and resisting and foot stomping. When we boil it down, we might think of suffering as the experience of pain plus fear.


It’s what happens when we tell ourselves, “I just can’t bear it!” We regail ourselves with stories of how we’re not strong enough, this is too much, we don’t deserve to feel this – or maybe we do – and that we just cannot go on living if it’s going to be this way. Suffering looks like pushing away, when pain calls for pulling in – pulling in our strongest resolve to feel.


It's either I'm the only one that views pain this way... or my pain is so intense no one can stomach it. In my eyes it's like standing on the shore with your shins covered in water, your back to the vastness of the ocean. If we stand there long enough, letting the waves build and build and continuing to stare at the shore, we know what will happen – we’ll inevitably be knocked over. And that will hurt. But if we can just turn around, will ourselves to look at the “monster” that is working to knock us over, we see that there’s actually a sea of beauty awaiting us. And we can decide to gently take a step back – or even a step forward – bending our body so as to ride the waves rather than succumb to them.


In order to really see me you have to face the wave.

• at 7:07 PM
• Posted by Lady Apathy

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Musings of the rejected....

"If only I had an enemy bigger than my apathy, I could have won."

One of my most favorite lines of all time. Mainly because it describes how I feel completely.

I honestly don't think there was ever a time that I didn't have a wall around my self in some way. There was no tragic event in my childhood that triggered mental self defenses, but even at a young age, there they were, several walls that kept everything that was essentially me hidden from the world. 

In my early years, though I had no reason for them, the walls allowed me to feel protected. And as i entered through situations where a girl like myself could have literally been destroyed, I was even grateful for them. At one with the titanium fortresses that protected my heart, mind, and body I interacted in life well. So well that many people didn't even notice I had them up at all. 

I realized quickly in life that most people were easily pacified. A smile and a laugh here, good advice and a lending ear there. Since humans as a whole are more self involved than we like to admit as long as their immediate need for you is met they don't inquire further. 

Every now and then I would get people that cared enough to attempt to dig a little deeper, and I would let them through a gate or two but found myself disheartened when they became complacent how far they got. Like something as general as learning my middle name or as infinitesimal as what foods I like or don't like really cracked the code that is me. And the more disheartened I got the more apathetic. Then love drove me the rest of the way.

Do I find myself hopeless...no.

Just for the time being there is no cause that has made me passionate enough to make me fight for, and for right now my own worst enemy is my lack of interest.

• at 4:36 PM
• Posted by Lady Apathy

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Musings of the dejected...

I can honestly say that I had never been as vulnerable with another person in my entire life than I was that night. I can honestly say that for one brief moment the labyrinth of  walls and doors that secured my feelings and thoughts endured an unexpected paradigm shift where they became nonexistent and my eyes became the unlimited fenestration into my heart. 


What sparked it? I can only speculate, but I know one thing is for sure. It scared the hell out of me. That I was willing to offer myself so easily. To not think. To not take the time to realize that there is no way. Upon refection I know that it's all or nothing with us, and that i can't let him...or myself dive into a situation where I'm so tired that I am not even sure I have anything left of myself to give. 


Be a friend first and foremost...and return the walls. 


A sad day it is when you must walk away from something you want because you're scared you might be the one to hurt it. 

• at 5:48 PM
• Posted by Lady Apathy

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