Wednesday, October 15, 2008

Woke up cursing life and cursing God

Woke up cursing life and cursing God for giving me this miserable, hateful, pain-filled, suffering life, after going to sleep praying to God for death.    But maybe God doesn't listen to prayers of people whose souls are completely separated from individuals whose brains, psyches, and spirits are fried and severed by pshychotropic drugs.  Certainly, I have no connection whatsoever with God or spiritual life.  I am a lab animal,experimented on, without any regard for, or exercise of my free will or choice , a slug, a slave, a thing.  In my mind, when I try to find the strength to keep living, I picture people who have endured and survived torture and slavery, people like John McCain or Solzynitsen, or most recently, the thought of all the millions of women and girls who are slave trafficked into prostitution, an institution fed by our sick, pornographic cultures (and don't blame the West you moralistic assholes--this is a product of patriarchal culture, not Western culture--same principle is shared--women are "owned.").  I live to survive, hoping to one day regain my humanity.  And if I don't, when I die, I hope to present to God the evidence that, at least, in my hidden soul, I retained my humanity, even if I was denied the right and ability to experience and live it.  Being human is to be engaged in the exercise of vital powers.  For someone like myself forced into a drug hazed suffering of alienation from life energy and reality, barely able to function, like someone with severe case of the flu, when normally I am energetic, productive, and completely in touch with reality, it can only be described as hell on earth, especially when I suffer constantly with physical pain caused by their GODDAMNED SATANIC drugs.  But it was my stupidity and my once naive trust in the Spiritutal Life Institute/priests of the Roman Catholic Church,  which has resulted in this-- my being sold out to the agents of Satan.  I keep asking God for another chance at life, and this time I won't sell out to satanic forces whp blasphemously carry Christ's name, but so far it hasn't come, and I have to accept that it may never come. 

So,  I have to carry on, no matter how hard.  It is turning winter, and I need to do a thorough house cleaning which for me in this condition, is almost impossibly difficult.    I have to somehow get the energy to read and follow directions to transfer this blog over, and I HAVE to start writing, however difficult, on  a deeper level.  I can't leave the formation of culture to lies, profit oriented immaturity,  and moral degenerates, which is so much  influencing our pop culture.  Most especially, I have been jolted by this article: http://www.americanthinker.com/2008/10/who_wrote_dreams_from_my_fathe_1.html, an essay that intuitively I know is true.  It addresses much of the disconnects, disconcert, and unease that I experienced while reading Obama's autobiography (I believe that there is another powerful reason for the obvious disconnect and glaring omissions from his life, but that one I won't share, out of respect for his personal life decisions and choices--a politician has to keep his skeletons in the closet).  However, what I now realize is that a book that really does not draw from, or is in touch with "soul" (and from a Black man!)  or deep human truth and self-realization, and that it was ghost written by a true moral degenerate of the lowest order (and I don't say that lightly, but I know what it means, when my skin crawls every time that I see Wm. Ayers on tv, even without audio--he is a supremely self-assured and privileged sociopath).

I suppose that my realization leads me wide open to the charge of racism which seems to be the Obama's camp favorite weapon of choice against people who recognize and speak out about his limitations (of course he's too "politically correct to say it himself--he relies on the hoodwinked, sold out, Obama-for-ratings-and-profit media, and his surrogates).  Bullshit.  I remember myself as a young schoolgirl, sitting back in class (I always read books in the back of class, utterly bored by what went on in the classroom), hiding the tears on my face with my hands as I read Black like Me, and Maya Angelou's biography of growing up in the racist south.  I remember staying up all night long as a college student (back in the day when a book could make me stay up all night long), completely enthralled by the remarkable autobiography and example  of Malcolm X.  To this day, I have greater admiration for Malcolm X than I do for MLK Jr, even though I think MLK Jr. was the greater man and "saint."  But while MLK Jr. pulled himself up from the pit of racism to reach the pinnacle of great manhood and universal leadership and inspiration, Malcolm X pulled himself up from the pit of hell to become a deeply moral and spiritual man and leader, who was on the cusp of another religious conversion and, most likely, a greatness on the order of MLK Jr., when he was murdered by the Nation of Islam (which now proclaims Obama as the "Messiah").  There is nothing more dangerous to people whose self-identity and self-esteem rests on hatred, than the thought of someone who loves--especially the love of the "enemy."

Among many others, I've even read, and been impressed with the autobiographies of Eldridge Cleaver and (not so much) Hurricane Rubin Carter.  I didn't agree with these men or the life choices or ideological conclusions that they made, but my God, did I respect their self-reflective honesty and pain.  Both of them were "man enough" to spill their guts, their "soul", out on the page, and myself, and all of humanity is the richer for it.  So no, racism does not blind me to the presence of soul on a page, but neither does misdirected, liberal white guilt or media imaged narcissism.

Personally, I have to confess that right now, I am stymied in my understanding of the implications of this realization.  How do I feel about voting for a man whose political agenda I overwhelmingly support, but whose whole career has been launched and abetted from a platform of manipulation, lies, and deception, that begins with this autobiography?  I don't know.  I guess, as I often have in the last few months, go back to square one again.  However, I am absolutely convinced that I HAVE to stand for the truth.  In a time and age when the writers of America seem to aspire to a selective, convenient, and of course, profitable truth (from all sides of the ideological spectrum), I have to make some kind of honest contribution.  I, or my words may be incomplete or harmful, but my God, I can't sit out on the sidelines while people like William Ayers set the agenda, to the point of launching the next likely President of the US based on deception and manipulation of deeply emotional wounds and scars. 

I am so happy with my vocation--that of an honest, powerless person.  I may be miserable in my life circumstances and slave condition, but deep in my heart I know, that with very miniscule exceptions, I have always been honest with myself, God, and others, and I thank you God, for allowing me the strength to choose that gift, because when I die, I want to present myself to you just as I have presented myself to others.  But right now, as miserable as I am, I am alive, and I have to do something but right now I am too sick to continue.

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