I’m not so sure. The language makes it seem like I do – we have words for that, you know. I, me, my. Have you ever felt like you’ve melted into the landscape and lost all perspective of the things those words refer to? I miss that feeling. Whenever I have to deal with bills, being presentable, cleaning, fixing something that’s broken, talking to someone to clear up a misunderstanding, it detracts from that sense of flowing with my surroundings. It’s like a skipping CD (for those of us old enough to remember that). Why would anyone want to fill the world with something so discordant?
When you reach your last day on earth and you look back at your life, does it seem strange that this is all there was? Working every day, feeling exhausted all weekend, going back to work every day, paying bills, doing all that god-forsaken math to balance your budget, with brief moments of spontaneous enjoyment like little rays of sunshine piercing through an otherwise stifling room? Well, at least you got to stack some boxes every day at work for 25, 30 years, and at least you got a change of scenery every time you changed jobs or got laid off. At least you got to enjoy generic coffee from generic company who employs people who get to put coffee grinds into a coffee tin for countless years and then die.
And if another person tells me to just work hard and you’ll succeed, I’ll have to ask them what I’m meant to succeed at, and why I should like the idea of any of it. Either that, or punch them in the face. Not sure which.
Rivets smash. Most things break if you smash them hard enough. I smashed 280lbs of glass today. I will do it again tonight. That’s the best part of the day – the smashing hour. Tempered glass goes “BOOSH” when it smashes. It’s the greatest sound in the world. If I could find a job where all I had to do all day was smash glass, I’d take it in a heartbeat, even if it paid minimum wage.
So I’m a little drunk. Bite me. I’ll probably regret typing the things in my brain when the buzz wears off. Go figure, that’s life I guess.
Have you ever thought about the expectations people have for you? At work – they expect you’ll want to be a good employee, to fit the mold for a leadership position, because who doesn’t want that? That you’ll want to advance your career, such as it is, and take on more responsibility. Or at home – that you’ll want to start a family, have kids, a wife (or husband), a house and maybe 1.5 dogs. I don’t know what people like these days. Maybe it’s 2 pitt bulls and a chihuahua now. What if you don’t care about any of that and only go to work because you need a paycheck to pay the bills, and no other concerns encroach upon your conscious mind? What if the idea of having kids and a family and all those annoying dogs seems more like a second job than a blessing? I have three cats, that’s more than enough chaos to call a life. If you express those thoughts in polite company, everybody will look at you like you’re an alien from Mars working a human job for human people, and clearly you’re supposed to be farming Martian gourds or something. How do you deal with that except to reject outright all of the stupid things people seem to find meaningful? Which includes, of course, the people themselves for finding those things meaningful. Is it possible to live in society with a different set of values without having this kind of awkward conflict? I haven’t been able to find a way to balance it except by getting really drunk after work. And so, check, really drunk after work. Is it okay to go on like this indefinitely? Why is life so stupidly full of conflict? Maybe people will never know the answer to that question. Until then, there’s always hard liquor and other booze to help ease the troubled minds among us.
Just for relaxation’s sake.
I’m not here to impress you. I don’t need your validation. I don’t require your consent for my continued existence. I don’t exist as a foil for your otherwise perfect day. I am not here to perform services for your benefit. I am not here for you to look at and think, “My how pretty.” I am not interested in your thoughts about how unkempt my beard is. I am not concerned by your shock at my disregard of your social norms. I am not interested in your social norms.
Does that make me a bad person, a crazy person, an antisocial person, or does it make you those things for believing the opposite? I don’t know, and I really don’t care what the answer is. Insert reference to Osho reading the definition of some derogatory word here.
Straight into that vortex. Now I’m the focal point between the currents, wandering around looking for some ham to put on my toast.
The future is uncertain. Tomorrow is uncertain. There’s no telling what will happen, and making a contingency plan is just too much work. I’ll improvise like a stupid juggler when the audience throws tomatoes at him. I know all the temps at work will be getting laid off soon. My car is a piece of junk, but at least I’ve managed to fix the most pressing issues with it now. And this kitten meows like a frog that got swallowed by a pelican.
So let’s just take this whole train and derail it with some randomness.
Too much free time, too little sleep every night, nothing to do.. feels like I have lots of things to do, but I can’t identify what those things are. Maybe I should cut back on the coffee.
People die. It happens.
I almost got fired for a very stupid reason, but managed to dodge it somehow and am now hinging my hopes on getting a car that’s not mine fixed by Monday, so I can drive to work in a car that’s not leaking oil like an incontinent bladder. Because I could get fired for that, apparently.
And in securing that vehicle, I learned my sister was in the hospital for a septic infection, and they’re moving her to a hospice. She’s got no insurance, and I think the big cahones at the place don’t want no freeloaders taking up valuable beds that rich hemorrhoidal asses could be laying on. I’m conflicted between apathy and seething rage. I’d like to scream obscenities in their faces, or watch some TV and drink a beer. I’m not sure which is in the lead at this point.
I’m too tired for this shit. Tired of this shit? Tired from this shit? Tired old shit. Can the world quit shitting on everything, please? And by the world, I mean people – can people quit shitting on everything, please? Quit all the damned elitist garbage and come down to our level? Sorry, my life’s not perfect. Sorry, other people are in the same cesspool as I am. Sorry, we don’t fit into your perfect little highly organized world. Golly, sorry, we don’t meet your expectations, can’t pay your bills, can’t make our circumstances magically different. Can these elitist pricks apologize to us for once? It wouldn’t change a damned thing, but at least it’d be on the right side of the equation.
I don’t know why the title, but it isn’t what it’s not. Heh. I may be a little loopy.
Everything is exhausting. I think I might be autistic. Or rather, further along the spectrum than just ADHD. I can’t people. People make distracting mouth-sounds. I can cat. Cats make soothing purr sounds. Everything is too complicated, and there’s too much of it. I’m an irritable mess and it only gets worse as the days drag on.
Quick, while the boss is in a meeting.
I dedicate this song to the place I work, and the lady I work for. Aw, shucks.
He adopted me. I was going grocery shopping and when I opened my door to step outside, he raced into the apartment and now refuses to leave. I guess I’ve got room for one more.
Have to act like human today when it feels like a spinning top took residence inside my head and it’s all off kilter.
There’s not enough coffee in the world to make acting like a human enjoyable.
Help, I just can’t do it. I’m living the dream and the dream is shit. Screw the dream, screw the man, screw the McCoffee. I don’t wanna people today. But I gotta, so I’ll do it like tearing off a band-aid and make it as fast as possible. Then I can maximize the time I sit around wondering what to do with myself. Sounds like fun.
Oh joy! What fun!
God, after introspection here, I think I might be an asshole, too. So everyone is an asshole. We’re all a bunch of assholes. Great. Everything is just peachy.
I woke up and this video was playing. I think the cats were crawling all over my keyboard while I was asleep. I feel like they were trying to tell me something, but I have no clue what it could be. Just remember…. it could always be worse. You could be that guy and also eat cute animals.
All I’m saying today.
Please don’t eat me.
How do you stop being who you are? Or is it possible that what you think you are, isn’t what you are? What the hell actually is me? Am I the person other people see, the things I’ve done, or their outcomes, even if nobody else has seen the results but me? Or am I who I think I am – maybe the outline in my mind of who I’d like to be in those ego filled moments that happen from time to time without my noticing. Aspirational me? Trying to be better me? Trying to shine, me? Why bother doing anything like that if the only person who might understand any of it is me (or you, or you, or you or my cat, maybe). Are other people stuck in the same sort of haze? Maybe other people are the problem – their perception, and by extension, my perception of them, might not be any more or less real than their own perception of themselves, or mine of myself. What is a me? What is a you? What are we, even? Why do we have this constant back and forth between “me” and “you” to decide what either is, and how could anyone possibly decide who gets defined first? Who is there to decide it prior to being defined? It’s like social anarchy. No rules, no coin toss, just racing to see who can steal the ball first and kick it into some amorphous goal. Any means will do, no matter how dirty. Just get to the goal first to be you. Winner gets to rule the universe in their own head.
Can’t we all just be ourselves without all this messy chaos? I guess that circles back to the original line of questioning – what even is a person without all this messy chaos to form them? This, to me, seems like the ultimate proof that there can be no god. No god in his/her right mind would make things like this, except maybe the invisible pink unicorn. And we all know how that jerk is. I guess one can argue that god is insane, schizophrenic, scattered pieces without any cohesive whole – that might make sense, given the nature of people. We could perhaps only see him or her reflected through the insane mass of other people staring back at us, and really, he/she’s just completely lost the plot (redundant, but clearly). Screw it, I’m going with the pink unicorn. At least the pink unicorn is nice. I mean, nobody really knows because he’s invisible and all, but he’s pink, and pink is a happy color…
Damnit, I need to stop staying up late on my days off. I go off my own rocker. I didn’t even know it was possible to fall off an imaginary chair, but lo! I have done it. Coffee! Save me!
I’m going dancing in the parking lot tonight.