rock-heart

at times i feel so fragile. i ask myself if i have the strength to physically turn my world back around. at times i think i can see the bridge i stand on engulfed on both ends. i'm trapped by my own actions. things would be so much easier had i just...obeyed...but no, not really. my troubles are sincerely trivial - should i rebel or not? should i wear jeans on tuesday or not? should i go to church or not? trivial, meaningless, pitiful. i've realized, though, that the trivial decisions lead to the larger, the meaningful, the pivotal. every little act of rebellion strengthens my ability to act in the future. only...many times, i'm not really rebelling for a good reason. it's some ridiculous laziness that caresses me into inaction. or fear. fear of reprisal. which is silly, because the rebellion ensures reprisals.

sometimes books anger me by luring me into false beliefs of justice or hope. no, no, no, things don't turn out for the best. but i can't sit still and fail to move just because i fear for misaligned fortunes.

i'm getting so tired of the feelings of antipathy.

today, they spoke of what they would do for a million dollars. or a billion. and what these actions would mean in reputation, but not in self-respect. some of the girls were shocked that i said i would not sleep with someone other than my husband for money. the label "gold-digger" becomes almost a title of respect. at least, they say, they would have the money to show for it, and money can buy the replacements. i couldn't believe them - and i knew they were not serious - but even in jest - the implications of their greed shattered me. 17 years old. self-respect means nothing when money is involved, and if they have money, they will have self-respect. they think. i can't believe they believe that shit. but i've seen it splattered all over the media, all over their environment, the relentless and soul-less pursuit of money. money so they wouldn't have to work. money so they can have what they want. money so they can gloat. money so they don't have to struggle. in the media, i see musicians flaunting fat stacks of money, wearing designer clothes, showing off the material fodder of greed and desire. and the attitudes...the idea that money covers up flaws. money compensates for being a jerk. money and fame compensate for character. it's a world of glitter and facade and delusion. nothing lasts because it's so easily made, so easily lost.

i still sometimes yearn for solitude...for the possibility of a life so far removed from this counterfeit hysteria that it doesn't touch me. i can find my happiness in nature and the slow turning of seasons, in family and the serenity of space. i've learned in the past few years that none of this matters - the *stuff* around me. i'd give it all away if i can find some lasting and deep-rooted peace and meaning. this pelf is absolutely worthless.

the periphery changes, but the "rock-heart" remains the same.