(de)Motivation

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stop.jpgDear Motivational Speaker,

First, your 'special terms' for the different aspects of people are not quirky, they are kind of stupid. You basically took terms and read off synonyms and definitions and then said 'this is what it means if you're this type'. Also, I'd like to say that people who are creative, whether it be building, designing, or other forms of art-worthy terms you read off your list, do enjoy the outcome of the project. Yes, the process of creating something is enjoyable, depending on who you're doing it for or why. However, seeing a finished project and the respect you have (hopefully) gained from people who see the finished product is a huge bonus. Telling our managers not to reward the creatives in the business after a project is finished is not only rude, you're basically saying "just keep piling the work on them so they are always 'in the process' and they'll always be content!"

Thanks, but no thanks. I've known tons of creative people over the years, in many forms of creativity, and they are always thrilled with their finished project. They wear the stuff they knit or sew. They use the stuff they build. They don't toss it in the back corner of the closet or shed and whine that it's perfect but meh, I don't want anything to do with it now that it's over. 

Second, I really didn't care to hear about how wonderful your life turned out to be. Great for you, working for that incredible organization and all. I'm sorry that becoming a parent and retiring from that incredible organization was such a trying time for you in your early 30s. 

Third... please get out of motivational speaking. The only thing you motivated in me was the wish the day would go quickly so I could get home with a nice, slow evening full of doing something creative, cooking dinner, and watching a favorite tv show. 

Thanks for wasting an hour and half of my day, it was the best part of your speech.

Funny vs Mean

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mean.jpgI see this meme all the time. I see it on facebook, I see it on twitter. This image I found over on pinterest. But, seriously, I have probably seen this a thousand and one times over the past several months.

I am quite sure that I have shared it at some point. You probably have as well. Seeing this phrase may have even made you chuckle a little and think 'yeah, that's me!' but did you stop and think about why? Are you really a mean person?

I consider myself a mean person and there are several people who know me will tell you outright that I am not mean at all. However, these people don't see the inner me, they see the public me. They don't know who I am inside my head. So when I say "I'm not really nice." I actually do mean it. 

The number of times I have had people try to contradict me on this statement astounds me. They do it because I have done something nice or without arguing. I covered their ass. I did an assignment for them. I helped them out with a project. That's why they think I am a nice person. What they don't know is that I complain inside my head (and on twitter) about things that would probably make them blush, or make them outright angry.

Let me introduce you to a saga by Jacqueline Carey called Kushiel's Legacy. In the second set of books she officially introduces you to Imriel in depth. This is after he's been rescued from a nightmare of being abused and tortured in the previous book. His goal is very simple. All you have to do is pick up Kushiel's Scion and read the back. It states "I will try to be good." That is his goal in life. It isn't wanting to be good. It isn't even being good. He says I will TRY. He will make an effort to be good. 

That is how I feel. I try to be good. Good to myself, good to others. 

I try to make good decisions. I try not to let the way other people treat me affect who I am, but that's a crock, right? Everyone everywhere is affected by something someone else has done or said. If they weren't, then we would be a bunch of emotionless automatons. I feel, therefore I exist. I have emotions, therefore I feel. I am broken, because I have been hurt.

We have such a great capacity to hurt others. There doesn't even have to be any form of actual gain to the person doing the hurting. Have I hurt people? Yes. I have hurt people. Did I do so intentionally? Sometimes, yes I damn well did. Do I feel bad about hurting someone intentionally? See, there's the rub. Not always. I have reasons for the things I do and yes, I know it's not right to hurt others, but then there's that lovely phrase "I will try to be good." and that is what I do. I try, and try again. 

We have so many chances to try to be good. To make good choices. Unfortunately, when it comes to making good choices, it isn't always clear cut whether or not the choice you make will actually turn out to be a good choice. It could be an instant knowledge that "Yes! That was an excellent choice." and then there are the "Oh, holy crap, what the fuck just went sideways and WHY?"

I will always try to be good, but like any human, I am an imperfect being and there are times where I fail utterly to be good. Let's take something I learned from a little movie called Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure: Be Excellent To Each Other. If you can't do that, then try to be good. 

/ˌdɪsɪˈluːʒənd/

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disillusioned - adjective
Defined As: having lost faith or trust in something : disappointed that something is not as good, valuable, true, etc., as it had seemed
having lost one's ideals, illusions, or false ideas about someone or something; disenchanted

I had thought that one day, someday, I would find something that makes me feel as though the sun is shining brightly even during the worst storm in the past decade was swirling around me. Unfortunately, the world is full of humans who are selfish, ignorant, and treat others without compassion. I have tried several times to write a new beginning post here. Wiping away the entries by putting them into draft status, or even going so far as wiping them out completely (after saving them on a disc or flash drive somewhere first) usually helps. However, this time... this time is different. I am different. Ever changing as the sky changes colors through the day, the seasons, sometimes even the hour. 

Several times over the years I have thought also about putting an end to this blog. Most people have a hard time getting a blog started. While I feel that I just wanted to write, and share my thoughts, I did. Yes, now and again I had tried to make a little cash from the blog, but never really did. I'm fine with that, it wasn't the reason the blog was started in the first place. It was started to voice my thoughts and opinions about the world around me and my place in it. I wanted to state what I have seen and how it made me feel. I wanted to express feelings. It never mattered to me to raise an audience. It didn't bother me if no one read or commented, and it still doesn't make that big of a difference.

The issue I have is that I do not go out into the world as much as I once did. Other than work, grocery shopping, the occasional outing, and (when the holidays are over and my schedule isn't running me ragged) the gym, I stay at home. I can't really afford going out and doing things. Even the cheap movie seats are sometimes too expensive. Now and again the Little Lady is capable of dragging me out, and I don't mind that she does, but the comfort of home rings so deeply that I prefer being there. If I have a need to go out and be around *gag* people, then I go to the mall and wander around window-shopping. I get enough people-watching in, maybe even actually purchase a few small sale items, then I go home. 

I still love reading. I am again trying my hand at writing short stories. I have fallen in love with a few television shows, and still love others that have been on for years. Gaming-wise, I am a Skyrim Addict and should probably be put into some kind of mental institution (where they allow you to play Skyrim for as long as you want). I accidentally deleted the game last night from my Xbox. Yeah.. I did that. I redownloaded the game and immediately recreated my character. I went ahead and started the new game but didn't get far before bedtime. The only reason that I am not truly upset about this is because the glitches in my main game are gone. Hopefully, I'll be able to prevent them in this new game because it is really annoying not to be able to remove something from your inventory for a quest where someone died. And yes, I'm rambling.

I don't really want to go on any kind of rant about society. It pains me to see all the hatred in the world. It hurts to see all the suffering going on. It's even worse knowing that suffering is caused by someone who just didn't care. The sun is shining right now and it's a bright spot in the day. Wouldn't it be nice if people just stopped to lift their face to the sunshine and breathed in the cold air and say "I'm going to spread compassion today."? 

Every day I am nice. Every single fucking day I am kind. People even say that I am patient or good. Personally, I am none of those things without effort. Even playing a game like Skyrim, I am nice. Do you have any idea how fucked up in the head you have to be to be kind in a game that you're allowed to go batshit crazy and kill everyone and everything? Every time a damned guard asks me "What's wrong? Did someone steal your sweetroll?" I want to beat them to death. I know it's a joke from the previous game (which I didn't play, I found that out reading a blog about Skyrim) but it infuriates me to the point that I wish my character could tell them "YES, you mother fucking cocksucker, someone DID steal my sweetroll!"* but she cannot because it isn't in the pre-defined conversations.

As you can see, this blog is still full of the wonders of sarcasm and profanity. Those things will always be here, they are my favorite languages. I speak fluently in them. The Demon that plagues me with Anger and Rage is still there, sitting below the surface. I hide her face so well that people don't believe she exists. I take a moment and explain to them that I am not a nice person, not truly. They don't understand. Then when I have a bad day where I say something a little too sharp, they freak out. Which pisses me off. Every other person can flip out and snap at you and it's all roses, but because I left the box that YOU put me in... and had a bad day or a bad moment, I'm held accountable.

I don't like being labeled any more than anyone else in the entire universe. And it isn't right to be held to such a lofty status that the word 'nice' entails. I truly can't believe people have the audacity to think that I am nice. I don't ask about their lives. I don't ask about their children or their partners unless there is nothing else to talk about and the weather conversation... I hate small talk. Those who I ask about the kids, the partners, their families, work, etc? Those are the people I care about. The ones I could call at 4am with an emergency and they would be on their way to hold my hand, if need be, or just listen to me cry over the phone. I've never taken advantage of it though. I try to keep my crises, if they happen, during daylight hours. I suppose I could be afraid that they wouldn't answer.

Staying home, being forcibly cuddled by Peanut, and watching tv or playing a game makes me feel relaxed. Do I get lonely? Sometimes. Then I visit Twitter and Facebook and see all the drama that simply makes me wish I had the power to reboot the system. And by system I mean this entire planet. It is the holiday season and there are protesters in the streets. There are people looting and burning down buildings. There are people killing each other, whether accidental or purposefully, people are dying. Every single life matters and we treat life as if it were a commodity. We buy and sell our souls every day. 

Alright, I suppose I will get off of this semi-rant now. 

Go outside. Feel the sunshine on your face. Is it raining? Snowing? Do it anyway. Go outside, close your eyes and tilt your face up to the sky. Be thankful that you are here. Be thankful that you can feel. Be grateful for the people in your life who are nice to you, yes including the ones like me who aren't nice (because if someone who isn't nice is being nice to you that means you haven't been added to their List). Smile at someone (in as non-creepy way as possible). Wish them a happy holiday or season's greetings. Celebrate Christmas? Then wish them a merry one. Remember to wish them Good Health and Happiness for the New Year as well. Spread some Joy, dammit. 

(*I've never kept a sweetroll long enough to be stolen, if I bother to pick one up at all and any attempts would be met with something very painful in the offender's head.)

Best.Day.Ever

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cheesecake.jpgI mentioned moving to a new (happier) location where I work, right? As in, my desk is no longer in cube-land, I'm not sitting next to an over-dramatic-psychotic person, and I am no longer constantly freezing to death. (There are even days I can take off my third layer!) Well, the department area that I moved to gets spoiled on occasion by their supervisor.

Since I am close friends with their supervisor, I was spoiled as well. She went to Mocha House to get her lunch and bought slices of cheesecake for each of us! It was all work-related prizes for the others, but since I am not in that department and didn't do anything work-related for her, she told me that since I am such a great friend that mine is friend-related cheesecake. She also didn't want me feeling left out watching the others eat cheesecake. I did let her know that I wouldn't be totally heart-broken if she were to not treat me the way she does them. I also told her that in doing so it means something random and amazing will happen in her future. (Karma, you know? Which, yes, we can take control of Karma on our own simply by doing something nice for others. Ahem.)

I do tell her quite often that she is pretty amazing, that she doesn't get paid enough, that she is truly underappreciated (not just here, but in her personal life, too). So, I am feeling pretty damn grateful to have someone in my life that randomly brings me treats, like delicious, to-die-for, cheesecake. 

Just Stopping By (One Year Later)

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It has literally been a year since I wrote here.

I'm not sure what made me decide to take a look at Disillusioned, but whatever it was, here I am. Looking over the site I wasn't shocked that it had been a year since I posted here. I was shocked that it was a year ago TODAY that I had posted last. So much has changed. So much has remained the same.

I'm officially writing more, not here, but actual short stories. I'm also working on a romance novel. I'm taking writing classes (sort of) and trying to seriously make a go of it. I'm on my second writing class. The first was simply to reopen my mind to my muse. To rekindle the flame of imagination and to help me get off my ass and write.

The second one is specifically for romance writing, and I hate to say it, I have been ignoring it. I have printed the lessons and plan to do them offline. It just seems to not be capturing my attention and I would rather be writing than learning about writing, I guess. Don't get me wrong, I love writing and I love learning. The online class I am taking is great. The lessons are excellent. I am just not participating the way I did in the previous class. I don't know why. I print the lessons and put them in my binder. I know that I will need them at some point. 

I've chosen my author name, which I won't share here at this time. I haven't decided if I want to publish the romance novel under the psuedonym or my real name. I do know that the short stories won't be under either name because they are seriously trashy erotica. (The kind you don't share with your mom. Or your coworkers. Or anyone who thinks they know who you are. It's the kind you read under your covers alone with a flashlight and whatever adult playthings you might require.) There are many reasons my name and the pen name I've chosen won't be on them. There were two short stories I wrote, each one under a different name, that I recently took down from Amazon and I probably won't use either of those names either. Honestly, there are reasons why I don't want anyone to know I wrote them. Too many implications. Too many people who will think that they aren't just stories, when someone at work just happened to say something to me and my mind exploded. EXPLODED. The ideas keep flowing. I want each of them to be around 5,000 words... I'm just not sure how to get them there yet. They tend to end around 3,400-3,500 words.

I've started a writing blog to go along with the chosen name. I almost shared one of the trashy stories there, just a sneak peek of 250 words, but then I decided I didn't want to do that.

My title at work has changed. My seating location has changed. Instead of sitting in a cube with a seriously psychotic neighbor, I am sharing an office with two amazing people who also work hard. This is a huge bonus for me because I'm not gritting my teeth listening to someone talk out loud all day long to whatever voices happen to be in their head. My pay changed, too, but thanks to student loans I am actually (once again) taking home less than what I was prior to the raise. This is twice now. The first time was thanks to the guv'ment forcing healthcare down our throats. If it happens a third time... I am going to scream.

In other news, the Little Lady moved to Toledo for her first year of college, then she decided she didn't want to be that far from home any longer and decided to transfer. She prefers being home and able to work however many hours she wants. There were also issues regarding work-study jobs being given to non-work-study students. That means by the time she found work, the semester was almost over. And, for whatever reason, a lot of the people who are supposed to be kind and helpful were rude and snotty. That's never appreciated.

Things have been going fairly well. I'm happier pursuing the writing bug that bit me when I was young and I know that if I put enough blood, sweat, tears, and other bodily secretions into it, I can succeed. I may not become a millionaire (you never know) and I might not have a movie made about one of my stories (it can happen to anyone) but I am willing to give it everything I can and hope that I might be able to live a little more comfortably instead of this whole paycheck to paycheck thing.

And now I'm off... to go do that writing thing on my lunch. Laters.

About Disillusioned

Disillusioned is a personal view of the world around me. A lot of information will be about books I read, or shows/movies I watch but sometimes there will be something that simply has to be pointed out and shredded. With Joy.

Disillusioned is best viewed in 1280x800 resolution.

To contact me you can email me by way of disillusioned at sweetly-evil.org, comments are open for business with approval.

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Michelle C. Miller
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