Skip to main content

Pleasure

   I have a confession: I have always been jealous of people with drug or hyper-sexual backgrounds who have accepted their lifestyle. Why? Because for sometime, even if it was a short time, lived the life I have secretly craved.
   Sometimes, when I read or hear of someone who has lived a lifestyle that although brings nothing but heartache in the end, I get jealous. Simply because I think there is a part of us, maybe just me, that craves the lifestyle of pleasure. It is what makes us basic humans. We seek happiness...we get happiness from pleasure, and the basic needs of pleasure according to basic human needs are sex and food. I suppose I could be slightly referencing Maslow's hierarchy of needs. I know I mentioned drugs, but did can got a short time bring pleasure. 
   But still...I am not denying that a life full of meaningless sex is the only true pleasure or that elicit drug use is harmless and fun all the time. What I am saying is a part of me craves the ability to forget what standard I have chosen for my life and embrace a sense of "fuck it" (literally.) 
   I can't. I can't do it, and I won't. I think because I see no point. I currently work in a drug lab where I encounter on a daily basis those who have abandoned any standard and embraced the savage lifestyle of drugs and sex, and it got them one thing: their life turned upside down. Does this happen with all people who chose this particular way of life? No. But, I have seen the ramifications of what it can do, and that is enough.
   I remember the commercials that used to run: such and such is my anti-drug, and I didn't think I would ever understand it until one night, I was lying in the middle of my friend's livingroom doped up on prescription pills, trying to wake her up enough so she could take care of her 2 year old son. He was crawling all over her needing her attention. I knew at that moment I had my anti-drug. 
   I know I am blessed to have dodged a very slippery road of which I could have traveled. I know that I am blessed to have parents who instilled in me a moral compass. I do not deny that I would have been a good candidate for a lifestyle of pure lonely pleasure. 
    Perhaps this blog is just some random confessional of which I can embrace. Who knows. But the truth is still there...I might die a virgin. Who knows. I might always harbor a little bit of jealousy toward those who feel no guilt or remorse in doing things that I can't. Who knows. All I know is that it is what it is...

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Tiger must stay in your backpack...

   I'm not that parent. The one who gloats too much, and shows off all the pictures. The parent who relays every detail of their kid to let others know how incredible I think they are. Perhaps it is a flaw. Who knows. And I also pride myself in not being a helicopter parent. I teach and let go. I discipline and let go.    And I thought I would be ready for this: first day of Pre-K. I have been very positive and uplifting and have wanted my son to be extra ready to go to school. We have talked about it for months! I am ready... Or so I thought.  This morning, as white boy was leaving to take them to daycare, he said to Owen, "You can't take Tiger to school tomorrow or he will have to stay in your backpack, so do you want to take him to daycare today?" I thought little of it, but as Owen threw him down on the ground and turned to head out the door, my throat hitched. "Are you sure you don't want to take him today?" He said no. It was a sense of finality.  ...

A goodbye love letter to you...

  I sat across from my dad at lunch, yesterday, and asked him, "Do you know what tomorrow is?" He said, "Yeah. 1 year." And his eyes grew damp. "I'll never forget walking into that room..." He didn't continue. I didn't ask him to. "I'll never forget the police officer banging on my door at 1130 at night..." I didn't continue. He didn't ask me to.  "This journal was given to me several years ago by my children. I know they wanted me to write down my thoughts to get through the rough times I was going through at the time. I did not start this at that time. Why am I starting it now? Well, I only thought I had been through hell back then, but now I realize I didn't have any idea what heartache was until Aug 15, 2010 -"   This is the beginning of one of my mother's journals. A journal she started a little over a month after Andy died. And she wrote it--to him.  "Dear Mother - Today is the day before Mothe...

Arithmetic of Purpose

   By nature, humans will, at one point in their life, ask the question, "For what purpose? Why am I here? What am I meant to do?" Okay, maybe they will ask themselves more than 1 question...but at least around the same theme. "Who am I, and why am I here?" It is built in our very DNA. Growing up, I didn't ask this often. I had a loving family who went with the current. Who I was and why I was here was bound up in my place in my family of 4. I was comfy. I was loved. I was secure. But alas...the question presented itself.   I first asked myself this question walking down the streets of Rome. I was alone, I was 21, and I was lost. I had just finished AmeriCorps and felt like I wanted something, but wasn't sure what that was. I had found my faith, at last, and realized that perhaps I wanted to be a bigger part of the Church collective. I felt meaning to my nothingness. I went home with direction. I graduated from college, finally, and started grad school to be...