Keeping My Bloodshot Eyes Open

It becomes evident in conversations with mine relatives that their way of thinking is not along the same lines as mine. Both parties whole-heartedly believe to be in the right, with neither of us willing to give an inch. I am of the mind to agree to disagree; it bothers me none to have them go on thinking the way they do, so long as I am not expected to suddenly drop my own convictions and follow the flock of lemmings off the next cliff. Yes, I suppose I do believe deeply that they are wrong, but if they think they are right, it is okay for them to think that way. I should provide you with examples of such arguments that arise, so here is an idea: My uncle (who knows who he is and so shall not be called by name) believes that I am an wholly immoral individual with no capacity for proper linear thinking due to my harrowing upbringing and the outdated belief he holds that maturity comes with age. If maturity came with age, then there would be more mature adults in the world. He also believes that people with money had to be moral to get there. This archaic belief dates back to the Puritans and is by no means based on any mode of fact. I could probably come up with tons of immoral people who have lots of money, but what are morals anyway? Who am I to say that what I think is wrong is always wrong to everyone else all the time? And who is he to say that what he thinks is wrong is always wrong to everyone else all the time? Oh! I guess I should mention part of what started this argument in the first place. You see, I found out a couple of weeks ago that I am pregnant again. Robert and I are going to have a baby again, and guess what? I am about eight weeks along, and no complications! Is not that the most awesomest thing ever? Oh, and I quit Wal-Mart because they did not care about the pregnancy in the slightest and wanted to put my baby and I in harms way. But anyway, I told my uncle this, and he gets into the whole “sex outside of marriage is wrong” argument and then we went off on a tangent talking about so many other issues that the conservative Christian 27% of Earth’s population believes are immoral. I was crying through most of the conversation, and I began to wonder for the umpteenth time why it is exactly that I feel the very deep and perhaps masochistic need for communication with those connected to me by marriage or bloodlines. There are only a few sane and rational people in my family, and the rest are psychotic and irrational. I say this because when I call someone to talk to them, I want to talk about our lives, theirs and mine, what has been going on lately, politics, religion, the weather, celebrities, whatever is on their mind. My brother and I can have some truly awesome conversations and even when we disagree, we still can part on good terms, both having earned some insight from the experience. I cannot have rational conversations with most everyone else in my family. They condemn and harass and judge and speculate until I am most sick with grief at the very notion being put forth that I am, in fact, an awful person who is twisted and corrupted to the core of her being for all that she has come from and will never amount to anything until she learns to “bah” and follow the rest of the sheep and to what? Where are these sheep going? I do not want to be a sheep. I could be getting led to a shearing session, or worse, to the slaughter! I would much rather be a goat, stubborn and selfish at times, but living her own life, following no one. That would be awesome, and I would run away from the farmer that tries to chain me to a post or from the person that tries to serve me for supper to a family of twelve. Yes sir, I would rather be a goat, and you know what? Who cares if that leads me to somebody’s version of hell. Personally I believe that either I will get reincarnated as yet another human for all of eternity because time is a circle, or that when I die, I am just dead, and that is it. I would really love to haunt people though. But I shall let you be, for I am in need of another nap; this baby makes me tired and hungry all the time. Cake–I’m not feeling all right today. I’m not feeling that great. I’m not catching on fire today. Love has started to fade. I’m not going to smile today. I’m not going to laugh. You’re out living it up today. I’ve got dues to pay, and the gravedigger puts on the forceps. The stonemason does all the work. The barber can give you a haircut. The carpenter can take you out to lunch. Now, I just want to play on my panpipes. I just want to drink me some wine. As soon as you’re born you start dying, so you might as well have a good time. Sheep go to heaven. Goats go to hell. Sheep go to heaven. Goats go to hell.

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