I think a lot about who I'm not or who I could have been. What would it have been like to not be constantly obsessed with gaming? Or comics? Or anything other than the life that I want?
What is is it like to take care of yourself?
What is it like to talk to people with an easy smile and to understand why people go to large parties and have a good time catching up with 50 people for 3 minutes at at time?
What is it like to pursue social networking with little to no anxiety? What is it like to fit in in this society and to find success on this society's terms exciting and attractive?
What is it like to be 100% straight and completely comfortable with a traditional relationship?
What is it like to be 100% gay and completely comfortable with non-traditional relationships?
What is it like to sleep comfortably in the same bed as another person?
What is it like to be conventionally attractive with all the rewards and bullshit that brings?
What is it like to bound out of bed with intention? What is it like to pursue a goal with dedication and do something meaningful as a result?
What is it like to live up to your potential? What is it like to live with an identity formed around actions performed in adulthood rather than testing performed in childhood?
What is it like to fit in without changing yourself to fit in?
What is it like to not squander opportunities and chances like you are made of chances?
What is it like to be happy in the ideology/religion you were raised in?
What is it like to not constantly be at war with yourself?
What is it like to be fully somewhere, not half-in, half-out of where you come from to wherever you're going?
What is it like to know what you want and go for it? What is it like to do the thing instead of over-thinking it?
I don't know
I don't know
I don't know
Saturday, September 28, 2019
Saturday, September 21, 2019
Snippet
"This culture is so frustrating to me," Isaac said, fiddling with his straw. "There's so much that's wrong, I don't know where to start. So I just do nothing."
Corey took a massive bite of the double patty, extra cheeze bit-a-burger hamburger special, and after chewing contemplatively for a few moments said, mouth still half full, "Well, your apathy is an understandable emotional reaction. This society uh ... does not live up to my own high standards either." He wiped the grease off of his mouth delicately. "But it's not a reasonable one."
Isaac, making an obnoxious sucking sound through his nearly empty soda, "Why not? I can't do anything about it."
Corey sat back, pushing the other half of the burger away with some regret and some relief. "Well, that attitude precludes any possibility of change. You may not overturn the system, but actions yields results and results have consequences that ripples outwards. Apathy tells you that it is better to do nothing than to try and it's a lie that your feelings made up about your situation."
"I hate that," said Isaac, standing up to throw away his garbage, forehead wrinkled in irritation.
"That's an understandable emotional response," said Corey, that faint, infuriating smile back on his smug little face. "But apathy is a bet against yourself and your ability to change both yourself and your situation. It assumes you are so inconsequential that doing nothing is the exactly same as doing something." He paused, and melodramatically placed his hand on Issac's shoulder, looking him steadily in the eye, "This is a bet I would never make for you or anyone."
Isaac paused, thinking it over. "... I hate that less," he finally said.
Corey opened the door, and for a moment the forced cartoon cheerfulness of the Bit-a-Burger contrasted sharply with the bleak streets of Storm City. "As do I!" he said.
They walked out together, thinking new thoughts.
Corey took a massive bite of the double patty, extra cheeze bit-a-burger hamburger special, and after chewing contemplatively for a few moments said, mouth still half full, "Well, your apathy is an understandable emotional reaction. This society uh ... does not live up to my own high standards either." He wiped the grease off of his mouth delicately. "But it's not a reasonable one."
Isaac, making an obnoxious sucking sound through his nearly empty soda, "Why not? I can't do anything about it."
Corey sat back, pushing the other half of the burger away with some regret and some relief. "Well, that attitude precludes any possibility of change. You may not overturn the system, but actions yields results and results have consequences that ripples outwards. Apathy tells you that it is better to do nothing than to try and it's a lie that your feelings made up about your situation."
"I hate that," said Isaac, standing up to throw away his garbage, forehead wrinkled in irritation.
"That's an understandable emotional response," said Corey, that faint, infuriating smile back on his smug little face. "But apathy is a bet against yourself and your ability to change both yourself and your situation. It assumes you are so inconsequential that doing nothing is the exactly same as doing something." He paused, and melodramatically placed his hand on Issac's shoulder, looking him steadily in the eye, "This is a bet I would never make for you or anyone."
Isaac paused, thinking it over. "... I hate that less," he finally said.
Corey opened the door, and for a moment the forced cartoon cheerfulness of the Bit-a-Burger contrasted sharply with the bleak streets of Storm City. "As do I!" he said.
They walked out together, thinking new thoughts.
Saturday, September 07, 2019
You can't go back and it's a shame
You can't go back and it's a shame.
I came out so late (too late!)
living a failed, phantom version of the life I should have lived,
because I was too afraid to live it.
Not great!
Not good.
So now, when I see a handsome blond man
with a nice mustache who's 25,
in a relationship,
all these middle-aged regrets come crashing down.
I'm an ongoing disaster,
but maybe
if I'd come out earlier
I could have met this nice man
at 25,
or a mustachioed man much like him,
and felt, what,
Actually Content?
Perhaps.
Perhaps.
Perhaps.
To be sure,
I might have fucked it up then too.
Probably.
Almost certainly.
So I am forced to consider
the wretched possibility
that this incarnation is,
for me personally,
this soul,
this eternal being,
learning what it feels like to fail
utterly
simply for lack of trying,
simply because
that is the choice I make
over and over,
not to mention repeatedly.
After making the same mistake,
the same,
the same,
every time,
for no good reason,
you start to suspect,
maybe,
possibly,
there might be a theme,
a rut,
a scratch in the groove of your life record
that keeps skipping
and skipping
and skipping
on the same note,
the same thought,
the same bad habit
and it really makes you think
just before the record skips again
in the same damn spot.
Jesus Christ,
why?
But also, what, who, how.
When?
Now.
Again and again and again.
But still.
Record skips and bad choices,
ongoing and robust,
aside, well to the side,
but still making all that racket,
I think about that mustachioed man
I hope to one day meet
before the bittersweet heat death of the universe,
and somewhat more pointedly,
before the last quiet gasp
of the pragmatically unified organs
and systems
I have, somewhat fondly,
come to think of as me,
and not fucking it up
for lack of trying.
Because you can't go back,
and it's a shame.
I came out so late (too late!)
living a failed, phantom version of the life I should have lived,
because I was too afraid to live it.
Not great!
Not good.
So now, when I see a handsome blond man
with a nice mustache who's 25,
in a relationship,
all these middle-aged regrets come crashing down.
I'm an ongoing disaster,
but maybe
if I'd come out earlier
I could have met this nice man
at 25,
or a mustachioed man much like him,
and felt, what,
Actually Content?
Perhaps.
Perhaps.
Perhaps.
To be sure,
I might have fucked it up then too.
Probably.
Almost certainly.
So I am forced to consider
the wretched possibility
that this incarnation is,
for me personally,
this soul,
this eternal being,
learning what it feels like to fail
utterly
simply for lack of trying,
simply because
that is the choice I make
over and over,
not to mention repeatedly.
After making the same mistake,
the same,
the same,
every time,
for no good reason,
you start to suspect,
maybe,
possibly,
there might be a theme,
a rut,
a scratch in the groove of your life record
that keeps skipping
and skipping
and skipping
on the same note,
the same thought,
the same bad habit
and it really makes you think
just before the record skips again
in the same damn spot.
Jesus Christ,
why?
But also, what, who, how.
When?
Now.
Again and again and again.
But still.
Record skips and bad choices,
ongoing and robust,
aside, well to the side,
but still making all that racket,
I think about that mustachioed man
I hope to one day meet
before the bittersweet heat death of the universe,
and somewhat more pointedly,
before the last quiet gasp
of the pragmatically unified organs
and systems
I have, somewhat fondly,
come to think of as me,
and not fucking it up
for lack of trying.
Because you can't go back,
and it's a shame.
Sunday, September 01, 2019
movin'
I am moving to a cheaper apartment in a month and I am very excited.
I am less excited about cleaning up and discarding all my crap. Well, I am very excited about cleaning up/getting rid of a bunch of shit, but I have let so many things pile up the to-do list looks intimidating.
Still, fingers crossed. This could be a very good change for me.
I am less excited about cleaning up and discarding all my crap. Well, I am very excited about cleaning up/getting rid of a bunch of shit, but I have let so many things pile up the to-do list looks intimidating.
Still, fingers crossed. This could be a very good change for me.
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