So I sit here, disturbed by an abrupt flash of observation. I’ve come to the recognizance that I am the most misunderstood person you know. Before I begin on a rant, allow me to provide some assistance; if you don’t have the genuine desire to understand and build a bond with me, then spare yourself the waste of time by reading any further. Normally, this is one of those things I keep in the substance of my implosions. It helps me to enhance the value I have for those who do understand me. I am aware that Facebook and Blogger provide most with a “false representation” of me. As you attempt to decode my encryption by winnowing through my pictures, statuses, wall posts and amount of friends—as you exegete my posts, note the number of followers I have, judge my music and examine my profile—you reciprocate your intent. Instead of decoding my encryption, you encode your personalized hologram of me. As I dwindle in orbits on the platform you’ve built, you observe me then critique me. You observe then critique. You observe then critique but you never consider. Since I have provided you with the tools to build this imagery, I feel obliged to wear the mold. I become what you want me to be whilst perpetuating the label you have so graciously harnessed above my head.
In an attempt to denounce that dogma, I write this note addressed to you. I am the skateboarder. I am the car driver. I am the track runner. I am the lazy dude who eats everything. I am the nerd. I am the party animal. I am the crook. I am the angel. I am the atheist. I am the Christian, Jew, Muslim, or Buddhist. I am the rapper. I am the fan. I am the lecturer. I am the pupil. I am Jeffie. I am Kalos. I am who you say I am.
However, I encourage you not to use that premeditated label as an escort to my quintessence. This is encouragement not to use your clairvoyance and specious research as a taxi to your destination of my humble core. I’d rather you not bother to even run up a fare. Just wonder off in mystery among the routes to approach me. I will soon invest trust in you and walk you there myself. However, it is important for one to note that this destination is fragile. Be careful. Watch your step and handle it with care. Cherish and appreciate the ground you stand on because very few have gotten this far.
. . . This note is between you and me. Do not speak of this to anyone (me included). Harness this in your heart and rid any connections leading from your heart to mouth. Take care.
Growing up my mother told me I would marry someone just like her. I always thought she was self centered until I ran across the Oepidus Complex Theory. Sigmund Freud had my respect from the psychoanalytical theory. The Oepidus Complex theory was inspired by the Sophocles play, Oepidus Rex. That play modeled out the myth of greek god, Oepidus, who killed his father and married his mother. Fred explained that innocuous sexual acts, such as breast feeding and touching the penis during diaper change, triggers the psychosexual development. The son now has a propensity to have sexual encounters with his mom and detests his father because the father is having intimate relations with his mother. The child usually fulfills these fantasies in dreams, drawings or literary works. No wonder there are so many “Mama’s boys.” I’ll admit, he is right. I remember having these visuals of me screwing my mother and even my grandmother. I always told myself I was sick in the head and kept it in. I only dreamed of it though. I cant remember really wanting to kill my father until he and my mother divorced. I wanted to hang his balls on the flagpole because I had witnessed the hurt he brought to my mother. Sigmund goes up in favorite sociologists.
For females he proposed an inverted theory for females as well it’s called the “Reverse Opepidus Complex” or the Electra Complex
