The transformational advantage

In my very as of yet incomplete communication and conflict resolution guide I include a mantra I have tried to pound into my subconscious when I find myself paralyzed by self-doubt, regrets or shame about my past and my life circumstances:

“circumstances describe, they do not define”

I find this basic insight about identity and self, to use what has become a trite expression, ‘transformational’.

To die for: suicide and survival

Pissed (album) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

This series takes a detour from Sniperhunter2012’s usual writing style.

Frequent visitors will observe that your correspondent attempts (as much as is possible) to write in the third person. I do this primarily to convey objectivity. This habit began because prior to launching Sniperhunter2012 I worked with a well known news, commentary, and lifestyle site whose editorial requirements demanded an objective, third person narrative.

This series cannot be written that way. The theme and subject are far too personal.

fair warning to readers: some may find the subject of this series upsetting or disturbing.

Last week I survived my second suicide attempt. Fifteen years ago I failed to die by hanging. Last week a bottle of prescription pills (not mine) was unsuccessful in taking me out. I’m not telling you to gain sympathy, for attention, or to be dramatic for drama’s sake.

As always I write for my own pleasure and insight. I do hope, however, that my comments on these failed attempts to end my life will grab the attention of folks who might, in some small way, benefit or learn from my difficulties. Perhaps they may gain something from my repeated failures. Maybe my anger is useful after all.

I’m fucking pissed at myself and pissed at God, you see.

Perhaps my anger and this tirade will find folks a hell of a lot more open to possibility than I was when I downed those pills and wrapped those ties around my neck.

Crap songs or crap tastes? Song lists

Image via CrunchBase

Ever listened to a tune and, feeling that gut deep desire to cover your ears and scrub your brain, thought some equivalent of “I’d rather raw dog a beehive than hear that crap again”? Dramatic, si’, and yet…

Hunter spent several hours he will never get back listening to a top 100 ‘worst songs ever’ playlist from Songza today. The list was compiled by AOL.com. *Sigh*, poor AOL. Anyway….

So he spent the time assaulting his better sensibilities with crap ass tunes, originally as a distraction, but halfway through open questions lurked in the back of his protesting mind.

Just what makes an individual hate (or love) a particular song? Aren’t musical (or, for that matter, all aesthetic) tastes subjective, despite our obsessive music-geek debates over styles, genres, and quality of a sound or lyric?

What purpose do ‘worst…anything’ lists serve? Do they exist as some critic and fan ‘fuck you, you suck. We’ve kept a record’ smackdown of shittier artists or of good artists occasionally dropping on we the fans a lump of compositional/lyrical shit?

The frequency, really…talking to your demons

GOD bless the den of iniquity, the distraction from daily life, the hotbed of foolishness and total waste of time and energy that is Facebook! Just spent ten or so minutes chatting with a dear friend, hoping to comfort and encourage her – family issues – she’s worried about her kid’s love life.

Hunter got to thinking about his twisted love affairs with obsession.

Hunter has always fallen in love with – or at the least become infatuated with – people he feels he can’t have and with altering circumstances he believes he cannot control. Perhaps the two are connected? Cue the sounds of dark irony and silly obviousness!

For many, many years Hunter (truth be told, its been decades) was obsessed with the concepts of ‘destiny’ and ‘purpose’. For decades he’d composed a mental symphony; the frequency dictating his life’s purpose and the person he wished to walk along with – to skip and bounce with – towards that purpose. Obsession with that symphony took the place of communication. Fate and purpose became a confused tangle with common sense the victim in a game of ‘but don’t you see, Hunter, this is how it is supposed to be’.

Rather than chat and get to know a person – instead of listening to their song and learning if the frequency was the one he’d thought he’d been listening to – into his obsession Hunter would introduce his denial and excuse mixer, making subtle adjustments here and there.

On the hunt for better days

Today was to be a day to work on the latest song and, time and stamina permitting, on the novel. Life is interesting the way it throws a wrench in the works occasionally. Things we find crucial in the morning (or through any number of months or years) find themselves booted to less than essential when an event or value challenges us to reconsider priorities. I blame Facebook and God’s Grace (in the form of a FB post) for insisting that I take time away from work-proper. I thank my own choice of values for insisting I find the time to remind myself once more to be grateful and to ponder.