I have a very active mind.



Too active perhaps. It’s not a good thing. Sure it can have its perks, I guess you never really run out of ideas. But before a month ago, when I started up this blog, I never was able to capture those ideas anywhere. They just drifted about in my head, until they eventually dissappeared. I felt no need to jot them down, or to share them with the world for everyone to see and judge. They were mine, and I kept them to myself. Until I realized that as I got older, more ideas would come and pile on top of other things I was trying to focus on. My ideas would keep me awake at night, jumping on my face, refusing to let me catch a glimpse of sleep! That’s when I realized I needed an outlet. I needed a way to spill out some of my ideas, and have others share my curse. At least then if I’ve got several people thinking about the same things, we can collaborate. We can help each ease our insanity. Er- I mean creativity.

So here is just that. Here is what I call Ceiling Staring Contest. It’s describing those nights I find myself staring at the ceiling of my room, restless.
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And go.

I remember when I was younger, when people would tease me about having less than normal kids in the future, and I would always shut them down by replying “I’m not having kids.” To this they’d say that I would if my wife wanted one bad enough. This puzzled me. This turned into like a whole week of staring contests with my ceiling.

How is it possible, that despite my unwillingness to have children, that my future wife could still produce some for us to raise? Obviously, there is a couple of options which I figured out during that week of asking questions to the wrong people. They gave me answers that no 7 or 8 year old should ever know. Now, you might be thinking that I was around some shitty people who thought it was okay to tell little kids things that they are too young to understand. And you’d be right. My dad was 17 when he had me, and so I was around people of the same age group with the same influences you might guess a 17 year old Texas boy might have on a baby. First off, they all loved TV. My dad ran a video store, and so he had endless copies of South  Park, Beavis and Butthead, King of the Hill, The Simpsons, Etc.,
My dad thought it was especially funny to teach me certain phrases of these shows, so that I could showcase them to all of his friends. So here I was, 2 years old, running around outside, flipping the bird and screaming at everyone that they were “pig fuckers”. Nobody had names anymore, nope. Everyone was now known to me as pig fucker. A couple years down the road, my dad started disciplining me for cursing, because I suppose somewhere down the line the amusement turned into embarrassment. Nevertheless, he turned out to be a major hardass, and I got all the discipline I so often sought after.

Back to the point, you can see how the answers I got from the question asked above, could have gotten mixed viewpoints. So, as any person with my active mind might do, I developed a solution.

1s × 0w = k

Where “s” represents me, Steven, “w” represents the number of wives I have, and “k” represents the amount of kids I will end up with.

Cutting the shit, I decided I wouldn’t get married. I wouldn’t get married not only because I didn’t want any kids, but because I didn’t want any kids to dissapoint. See my parents divorced when I was like 4. And then they held some sort of weird grudge against each other and pretty much made it where I was expected to choose one side or the other. All throughout my childhood and even until now, I feel as though they expect me to choose who I love. And by choosing to love both sides, I am thus betraying either one side. It’s confusing if you’ve never been in the moment, and hopefully you’ve never had to. It’s a hard way to live your life, and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. Which is why I vowed myself to never get married. I figured that by removing the whole marriage concept from the picture, there could be no children (christian POV– I was like 8.), and thus there could be no family, and thus there could be no divorce to hurt the family. Perfect right?!

I guess as far as an 8 year old’s warped perspective on marriage goes, it was pretty damn perfect. I guess I was so dead set on the idea thay every marriage will fail. So I eliminated the idea of marriage to eliminate the possibility of failure, divorce. But as an 8 year old, I had no experience with relationships, or girls at all for that matter. I told all my friends I did, but the fact of the matter is that I would prove my idea faulty when I experienced love. Sorry to get all sappy on you, but it’s true. Love changes every thing. When you love somebody, there’s no chance in hell you’re ever seperating. At least that’s what you believe. And that’s how it should be, right?

If you truly love somebody, and they truly love you back, then there should be no reason not to get married and have a family! There should be no what-ifs, and other possible barriers. Because if there is, then… I’m sorry to say, but it isn’t true love. Re-worm  your hook and cast again.

I feel like real love is infinite. When you start loving someone, then you should always love someone. There should be no phrases such as “I don’t love you any more”. Just as you can’t stop loving your family members, you should not be able to stop loving the person you fall in love with.

But surely everyone who gets married, thinks thay they are in love… and that’s where I get lost. How can you recognise false love and true love, or an unbalance of the two?

I blinked. Good game, ceiling, good game.

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