Respect, Mother Fuckers!
Why is this most important thing in life? Is it? Yes. Simply put, yes it is. Think about it, without this understanding and acceptance and exchange of communication, there would be no faith in actions we all take. There can be no understanding of one-another without respect. Respect is, what respect does, action. No respect, no action.
I can accept my brother for who he is, as long as there is a mutual respect. Is he an ass? Yup. But that isn’t anything he didn’t know before the conversation ended or started for that matter. I have trouble communicating with those around me sometimes. I have an extreme need for mutual respect, and a need for closure on all problems or trials and tribulations. Without closure, there can be no acceptance of the work necessary to give this closure; therefore closure is as elusive as reasoning of equivocation.
I love my father. He is patient, intelligent and most of all, respectful of those he knows or doesn’t. This is very important to me. With this in mind, acceptance for me, of my opinions of his failings is clear. He is who he is. He is the person I am commonly. He has something I do not though. Patience. Can’t be taught. Can’t be learned. Always under-valued. For this, I am always a failure in the eyes of my father. Without this single, elusive symbol of real understanding, I can only be less than ideal. It’s a burden on the unconscious mind. It is that which shakes my sensibility. Trying to be patient, when my drive for understanding and closure over burdens my persona, is my worst failing, aside from obsessing over my view of myself.
Family should be allot of things. It’s is few of these for me. I fucking hate much of them. Wish them a long walk off a short cliff. Wish I could let my past go, but its haunting, but yet somehow comforting. Why is it easy for me to dislike, disagree and out-right hate those who are simply related to me and use that as a conversation piece? Because I’m special. Not a special as in drooling and muttering something about baby-ruth candy bars, but special that I can use hate like a transitive verb. I fucking hate people, like my brother who thinks that because I share DNA with someone, that is some kind of “Get out of being respectful” free card. Fuck that. I have decided, because that I am an adult, and my mom told me I could decide these things when I am older, that anyone who dis-respects me, will not only pay for it with my contrite, sarcastic remarks, but also run the risk of seriously pissing me off.
Now. After saying these things you ask, “What about your son? Would you want him to read these things and be as arrogant as you? Of course! You fucking idiot! What a dumb, mother-fucking question!
M
I can accept my brother for who he is, as long as there is a mutual respect. Is he an ass? Yup. But that isn’t anything he didn’t know before the conversation ended or started for that matter. I have trouble communicating with those around me sometimes. I have an extreme need for mutual respect, and a need for closure on all problems or trials and tribulations. Without closure, there can be no acceptance of the work necessary to give this closure; therefore closure is as elusive as reasoning of equivocation.
I love my father. He is patient, intelligent and most of all, respectful of those he knows or doesn’t. This is very important to me. With this in mind, acceptance for me, of my opinions of his failings is clear. He is who he is. He is the person I am commonly. He has something I do not though. Patience. Can’t be taught. Can’t be learned. Always under-valued. For this, I am always a failure in the eyes of my father. Without this single, elusive symbol of real understanding, I can only be less than ideal. It’s a burden on the unconscious mind. It is that which shakes my sensibility. Trying to be patient, when my drive for understanding and closure over burdens my persona, is my worst failing, aside from obsessing over my view of myself.
Family should be allot of things. It’s is few of these for me. I fucking hate much of them. Wish them a long walk off a short cliff. Wish I could let my past go, but its haunting, but yet somehow comforting. Why is it easy for me to dislike, disagree and out-right hate those who are simply related to me and use that as a conversation piece? Because I’m special. Not a special as in drooling and muttering something about baby-ruth candy bars, but special that I can use hate like a transitive verb. I fucking hate people, like my brother who thinks that because I share DNA with someone, that is some kind of “Get out of being respectful” free card. Fuck that. I have decided, because that I am an adult, and my mom told me I could decide these things when I am older, that anyone who dis-respects me, will not only pay for it with my contrite, sarcastic remarks, but also run the risk of seriously pissing me off.
Now. After saying these things you ask, “What about your son? Would you want him to read these things and be as arrogant as you? Of course! You fucking idiot! What a dumb, mother-fucking question!
M
posted by Markus at 9:49 PM
3 Comments:
I have been dreaming, desperatly waiting for this moment!! Finally you start bitching!! I thought being married sucked the life out of you(please don't tell Heather I said that,I wish to live). It's so good to have the old Markus back!!!
I must admit, I lost most of my respect for you that night I saw you naked with the lights on, I know you said it was cold out, but still, come on, how am I suppose to respect you in the morning after that?
sloth rules!
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