Archive for November, 2010


if i had the courage

I don’t think I’m not a chicken shit.  I won’t disrespect myself, either, by not admitting that through the years I have grown for the better in some measurable ways.  What or how it is measured will have to remain abstract I’m afraid, but I will whittle for this purpose and suggest that utilitarian ethics is most efficient and generically applicable: if I have “grown” within my own environment for the beautification of it rather than its degradation, I am a healthy growth.  I will note, though, that I have had to engage in some unhealthy events in order to correct my trajectory lest I block another’s sunlight.

To be fair, however, I am an exotic growth too.  There are two things when acting within my native environments that I love most, those two that drive my curiosity and passion for life.  They are holding up a proverbial mirror to show everyone what they look like from “here”, and purposely demonstrating anti-normal behavior to gauge reactions and examine the rationales behind them.  I’m highly limited in performing either function well, but it’s largely due to fear.  Some of that fear comes from instances where I caused another pain, however intentionally, and hated it.  Some of it comes from instances where another person incorrectly interpreted an action or statement (or simply lashed out unfairly from causes not mine), and spun the whole thing poisonous.

Pardon this dead horse’s carcass and my beating upon it, but it is frightening to assert your private self, but part of why it is so frightening is because our private self is so chaotic, and nobody talks about it, perpetuating the taboo.  Our innermost thoughts are likely referred to as such in reference to that very sense of a dark, chaotic mystery running behind all of our perceptible world’s events.  Sometimes our thoughts seem to come from nowhere, or are loud and provocative.  Sometimes, when spinning in idle, our minds seem to get bored and throw out something so bizarre it makes us look around to see if anyone else could tell what we were thinking.

Less tangentially, no matter how refined in behavior and social graces we become, we can expect to always experience nervousness or fear when acting in an uncontrolled environment, and this is because deep down we are all afraid of seeming wrong, unhealthy, or  weed-like.  Calling someone a leech is a delicately forceful insult because it gets to this same concern.  In order to sustain life and flourish, we must respect a natural balance between exploration and infrastructure, between strong communities and free radicals, between production, consumption and innovation.  A lot of us manage to accomplish this in maturity, and I suppose that is why reasonable adults tend to get a little quieter and more focused with age.

However, a lot of us do not manage this, and this creates a lot of room for misunderstanding.  This room for misunderstanding comes from fear of disproportionate reactions to ones actions.  Some of us are wired to leap out from the boxes we’re placed in, and in the coding of life this is to our benefit, because even when these leaps come in the form of deranged serial killers, these experiences help us to solidify certain moral principles across an array of life perspectives.

So, what is keeping me inside of my box right now is a fear of being labeled a heretic and being wildly misunderstood as an irreverent narcissist who does good now for the sake of a fan club later.  The box I’m wishing I could leap out of?  It’s the politically inactive introvert who gives public speeches in his head all day box.  I want desperately to come out yet holding the lid down myself.


get a job loser!

If your current take on the economic downturn and people who are having a hard time finding a job is that those people are simply not trying hard enough or being too picky… you are half right.

The half where you’re wrong, however, is a potentially devastating and supremely ugly half.  Mine goes like this:

For starters, I don’t like life.  It’s not that I think the cosmic miracle of it all is unimpressive, but that I have already done mental gymnastics around the entire affair and have come up with very little.  There are few things that make participation in a world gone so wrong tolerable.  For me, they are my wife, my future child(ren), and fighting for some semblance of goodness.  What makes these things more difficult to enjoy are all things that I had no say in.  It wasn’t my fucking idea to impose monetary value and structures of commerce on goods and services.  History has proved that this is unnecessary and I LOATHE that in order to maintain a relatively happy life with a family, one must either succumb to the whims of the Circus, or have the resources to start your own, or live in one of the few insane asylums referred to as communes.

Before I reached the age of 30, suicide was kept on hold, sometimes more successfully than others, as a viable opt-out.  Now I am married and have been repressing that option and trying to skew it into the ‘prohibited’ category of actions.  Things that typically led me to desire the assumed final peace of ending my life were hard to quantify at the time, but now I can see that they were seemingly insurmountable frustrations with the notion that I could not exist on the merits of my existence without money, a plan for more money, and a plan for a stash of money so that when I need 30 drugs to stay mobile at the age of 70 I can still go play a game of bingo or what have you.  What a fucking life, right?  The frustrations aren’t as simple as mere facts of love and money.  Frustrations in love can almost always be overcome with the right philosophical toolbox, but frustrations in money and practicality can only be overcome by money, and in my mind that is unacceptable.

Many of my friends have shown great aptitude for swallowing this particular pill.  I haven’t.  Each time in the past when faced with the options of either getting a job or killing myself, the latter seemed MUCH more appealing (turn off your sympathy generators please… I don’t think of suicide as a terrible travesty, even if it is sad for those who stay behind, those who may have loved you, I see it as a choice).  I know there are some of you who can relate, and to those of you who cannot, I am sorry, but there is likely no way of my conveying to you the truth of this matter with words.  If you haven’t lived in the crevices of humankind’s paradoxical enlightenment… you don’t understand how dire this feels.

I am writing this out right now because I am not sure of anything, including my own thoughts and feelings, and want to try and find some sort of workable middle road for myself whereby I can exist in this world and my own at the same time.  Maybe I am a fool for thinking this, but I have already made it further than others before me, and don’t plan on shirking what responsibility I now feel for staying alive and continuing the bonded relationships I have forged over the years.

An unexpected act of charity was just (minutes ago) bestowed on one of my house mates that completely flattened this post for now.

So I will summarize.  These things (jobs, money, capitalism, politics) are easy for most people.  Not me.  You may not care.  Goodnight.

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November 2010
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