I know I’m taking a chance here, but it has come to the point where I have to set the record straight, although I know full well that even after this I may still be utterly incomprehensible and misunderstood. I want to thank you in advance if you had been following this blog or following me on Twitter. If after you read this you want to unfollow me, don’t do it right away. Coordinate it amongst yourselves and do it discretely. Stagger it, because I have serious abandonment issues.
It has come to my attention that some of you out there think I’m inspirational, or something along those lines; I’ll use that term as a catch-all. I’m actually on someone’s “Spirit’s Holy” and “Soul of the Universe” Twitter lists. That is very flattering and maybe someone finds the journey I’m on as inspiring, but I don’t think I am an inspiring person by nature or deeds.
Ok, one thing I have going for me is that I try to be nice to people–but if you try to fuck with me, then it’s a different ball game. I encourage others to behave the same way.
That’s all I can think of. Other than that, there’s plenty of evidence to the contrary:
I don’t really care if you believe what I believe In my last post, I said I wanted people to hear, understand, and accept what I have to say, but we can agree to disagree. Just looking for R-E-S-P-E-C-T.
I have a sense of humor I honestly do admire people who are inspirational, but they don’t make me giggle, which is my favorite activity. Speaking of honesty, I am honest to a fault (stay with me, here). People have been known to rely on my honesty, and indeed, to exploit it. But I will temper my honesty with diplomacy. And I will exaggerate and lie my ass off if it’s funny! Inspiration be damned, okay!
Nothing I write will be completely joyful I noticed early on as a teenager that all my poems were sad, dark, angry, cynical, and every other so-called negative emotion. Same thing now. Even when I try to write something happy or even neutral, I always manage to put some “stank” on it. I have added “militant” to my repertoire, and by militant, I mean defensive in a “back off, don’t fuck with me” kind of way (see above). If true happiness were possible, there would be no need for heaven, so I don’t believe in it (true happiness, that is). I certainly don’t have it, and I don’t think I want it; there would be nothing to write about.
I could go on, but I’m coming up on my self- imposed 500-word limit, which actually is another point against me: I am one of my favorite subjects to talk about. That’s not a good look for an inspirational figure.
© Sweepy Jean and Sweepy Jean Explores the (Webby) World, 2010.