I don`t know what I`m saying but I mean it

I don`t know what i`m saying ether.


I love Watsky, I love music, I love storytelling, and I love lyrics. His lyrics our always great, which before music he was part of the slam poetry scene so....that accounts for that. Once a poet always a poet.


This song touches me on a lot of levels. Composition wise its just very pleasant sounding and calm. The whole things just feels very intimate. More so then that this is Watsky touching on and singing about a bunch of scattered but related things. The death of his fathers friend, noticing his father getting older, and etc. It`s all then tied together with that chorus line. I don`t know what i`m saying but I mean it.


I feel that...very much. Take these decompression blogs I`ll call them. Unpolished, stream of thought. I really have no idea what i`m saying here but I know I feel it.

Someone in a thread today was talking about archetypes. The wounded healer is one of those, under Carl Jungs school of thought. Jungs someone I`ve read a lot of and about, I`d call myself a supporter of his theories s and views.

The wounded healer is also something I would roughly put myself under. Roughly. Really it`s one of an analyst seeking to heal patients due to his own wounds. That`s a bare bones defantoin. I am of course not a therapist let alone a psychoanalyst. I do however feel like you can extrapolate wounded healer out of that context, and put it into a broader sense of wanting to help others due to you`r own wounds or own pain. Which is a fairly common thing or at least idea.

Not necessarily a bad one though, where it does get mucky is putting the healing of others before the healing of you`rself or using it to replace your own. Not that you can`t heal while helping others on the contrary. It can actually be a big part on you`r own path of healing. However simply replacing you`r own problems with someone else doesn`t end great.


I`ve tried it.

The part about carrying the fathers name and his dreams also hits with me. My father did a interesting thing naming me. So much back story to all of that but cliff notes. My great grandfather was a Scottish boy sent out on his own as a Shepard boy who was then kidnapped by the British from Scotland (they used to do that because they found the practice savage) and raised to be a gardener in the Queens gardens. He then stowed away on a boat to America, became the gardener for the governor, knocked up the governs daughter who then died in child birth, got cut off from his children and started the states largest bootlegging opurtoin during prohibition through the governors estates. He then took the booze money and got control of all the horses in Boston so every milk delviary was using horses leased from him and died a wealthy man in his own right still an outcast.

His daughter grew up in a world apart from him. The governor made a point of keeping him on as a gardener but keeping him away from his kids. Pointing him out as the help at every opportunity. Never mind the fact he was running an empire out of the guys greenhouses. She went off no real link to his world and married someone from hers. A Irish American business man with some...troubling ties. My grandfather. They ended up having a whole brood of perfect children that all fit neatly into there wealthy catholic picture. The one girl would become a psychologist and head of the boy-scouts, one boy would become a business man like the father and even own a good share in the Red Sox has a box and everything, one half sibling veered off slightly but still respectable as a a master electron....before taking over the city dog racing operations....which implies something else but..., and all the rest of the sons went to law school. Picture perfect family.....and then


there was my father.

Born hard of hearing, with ADHD, dyslexia, and a rambunctious spirt. A perfect son he did not make. His father was far from a perfect father. As is shown by his reaction to his one problem child being to wash his hands of it. Private catholic school that was more or less built to prepare boys to join the church (he ended up excommunicated when he refufesed to take a vow of celibacy) is where he was sent and when he wasn`t there they pawned him off on the family's other outcast. My great grandfather.

Because sending the rowdy child to the rowdy old Scott will calm him down.

That rowdy old Scots last name, had a lot of hertige to it. Our Scottish clan a rather respectable one at that. A strong tie tmo our Scottish hertige which there aren`t many of as only my father and his grand father cared about that. More than that it`s a tie to a man who while..,.a criminal...was the only kind and loving family my father ever had.

Also they were/are all crooks some just wear suits and ties a little better to mask that.

That name was phased out by my fathers father through marriage. My father never liked that. So he took that lost last name and made it my first.


I don`t know if I can really explain the impact my name has on me. Out of my fathers many many many children (3 marriages 3 children two wed lock kids from two different people. I`m one of the later and he always disputed the other one being his) . I`m the one that was given the loaded name. The name that holds his legacy his hopes on it, as well as the legacy of my great grandfather. His daughter didn`t carry that on, only my father did and my siblings.....they`ve fallen in the family trap. One married wealthy and got into politics the other somehow got a hold of family money. Dad always said there was a trust set up for all his kids...but the one brothers the only one who ever saw anything. Fishy but...he built of that. The other one went to jail for fondling a child.......

....yes...


He still gets invited to my fathers memorial masses which i don`t though. Rather the pedophile than me.

It`s fine though....why the hell our you having mass for a man who hated the Catholic church?

They all...became like my uncles. Do as you will I suppose but I feel like there`s something about my great grandfathers experiences, my fathers, and mine that set us apart and connects us.

I feel there presence or at least I like to think I do.

We are the outcasts, we are the ones who survive no matter what, we are the ones who take care of our own no matter how much we`ve been tossed to the dogs, and we make the best out of any situation. We care little on appearance, and living Orthodox lives.

We`re the outsiders.

I have to treat that name with the respect it deserves.

but anyways.

Going off on this topic is self love.



This is a reaction reply video, but there`s a really good genuine message about self love towards the middle. We all know of self love right? You have to love you`rself and learn to take care of you`rself before you can take care of others.

That`s something I need to learn. Both how to take care of myself and to push some things to the side to work on that and build myself up. So I can help the people around me the way I want to.

Need to shut myself off a bit to prep my walls.

.....getting less wordy here because Red Letter Media videos our distracting me. ....



Oh look another Watsky song.

I love this one for not just being about depression but also being about just the greyness of it. Just not doing anything because you can`t bring you`rself to move from the table. How it`s not per say this overwhelming sadness always as much as this crushing grayness that just...stops you...and you don`t always know why. That whole message about when you take punch get up and remember why you put one foot in front of the next is awful inspiring to. That whole ending message to just keep moving...

yeah.


Today I manged to pull out of bed and shower been doing good at that. The rest of the morning routine went to crap though. Got into work, work was good. Had a low room count almost no arrivals, lots of extra from yesterday so we got out early and hopefully made mostly extra. Tomorrow will be a real easy day. Felt super tired today I don`t know why...other then I don`t take care of myself...need to change that.

putterd really work wise. Tomorrow I need to take that easy day and push myself. Get as much extra I can to pad for the day after which is about the same amount as today. Thats why as I was working I was planning out exactly what my day was gonna be after I clocked out.

Nap because it`s day 2 of a six day stretch need energy, up read my new book (The Dhammapada-A Buddhist text), work on setting things up to take care of myself better.

Got some food and pet kibble on the way home came home...


sat down


couldn`t bring myself to get up..

Or even nap ..

Just nothing was there.

The desire was but....everything else was just switched off.

My better-help cousnelr got back to me I just stared at that message without responding.

Idk even this i`m distracted on typing and this is just a thought dump for decompression that I don`t really expect anybody to read.

I just need to keep putting one foot in front of the next on my journey.

It`s past midnight now though and I gotta push through tomorrow so once more i`m off to bed.