Before I forget, the latest countdown has begun. 10 more days.
And now, on with the show.
So, as I was watching a Depeche Mode concert (okay, mostly listening, but still) and reading a self-help book earlier this afternoon, Epiphany smoked me yet another in a seemingly endless line of sharp blows to my pretty little head. However, in a VERY refreshing change from the norm, this time it was totally The Good Kind.
To preface, whilst I type this, I'm pondering whether to take a nap for 3 or 4 hours, maybe get cleaned up and venture out to Burger King for some snacks, perhaps finally plug in that Nirvana DVD that came with the box set I bought sometime before xmas. Or simply do sweet fuck all. As you read this, on the other paw, you're likely at work, sneaking a few minutes to read the babbling and gibberish of someone so obviously beyond the pale it's damn near laughable. To somewhat lighten the burden of having a real job and shit. Pursuing the great consumer dream. Best of luck to you with that.
What will truly make me happy?
I'm not really sure, but I DO know that it's not what's supposed to make me happy. Nope, I've never claimed to be happy, but to achieve this state I work a great deal many hours less per week than the average drone. Will working 50 and 60 hours a week make me happier? Somehow, I kinda doubt it. My distinct unhappiness is pretty much intrinsic. I may not have as many things as some folks, but I have more than enough free time to enjoy them, were I so inclined. Given the lifestyle I've become accustomed to, pretty much alls I need is 3 hots and a cot. In fact, if it weren't for the constant threat of being raped in the shower, I could likely be happy in prison. Time to read and work out plus the aforementioned free room and board. Maybe learn a trade whilst I'm there.
Nope, I don't have a car or any real desire to ever again own one. This makes me environmentally sound, and, besides; do any of y'all REALLY want the likes of me behind the wheel of a large amount of metal, given what you've come to learn about my somewhat precarious mental state? I'm guessing not so much. Does this make me a worse person than someone that owns a fancy car? Nope. Oh, I totally AM a worse person than damn near every-fucking-body, but not because I don't drive. That's just a minor personality quirk.
Nope, I don't make as much money as most folks, but in all honesty I want for nothing material, can afford to go to my beloved Las Vegas 3 times a year and have plenty of free time. Sometimes way too much free time. Which tends to lead to me ''thinking'', which y'all know can only end badly. Or will by the time I'm through here.
Although I have actually applied for a promotion at work, in a different department, which I am qualified for but will not get because I'm SO not Joe Corporate and have no time for company picnics, politics or any of the rest of it.
As it is, I essentially get paid to work out. Which, for me, kinda beats sitting behind a desk (oddly enough, I tend to do this during my free time, anyway) all day and then shelling a bunch of money for a gym membership which I'd never use because I'd always be too damn tired. Besides, everybody knows that guys only join the gym so they can watch hot young women work out. Then they go home and either bang the shit out of their significant other whilst thinking about that hot young blonde with the aerobicized ass and the gravity-defying brestesses that they watched climbing the Stairmaster for 3 hours. Or, if single, they go home and jerk off thinking about said blonde. Brunette. Redhead. Nubian Queen. What have you.
I'm friends with quality people that I've often known for a long time and whom I can trust. This must mean that I'm either a good person (sigh) or, and this is the option I'm leaning towards: they're simply trying to improve their odds on that whole 1 in 5 folks will be stricken with a mental illness deal. Regardless, good folks deem me worthy of spending their time with. So I must be doing something right. This would be success, would it not? Maybe not the kind that we're trained from birth to yearn for, but for right now; it's a foundation upon which I can build.
Sure, I'm rationalizing things more than a smidge (c'est la vie, n'est pas?), but obviously my priorities have been a little skewed and now I'm finally starting to ask the right questions. All because of one seemingly insignificant gesture that lead to something positive. All because I didn't dwell on the hows, whys and what-ifs of the Scenario; I was simply angry enough that night that I just threw caution and, likely, good sense to the wind and fucking DID it. And, while it didn't work out as well as I might have liked; so what? I did the right thing for the right reason and something good came of it. If I were inclined to believe in such things, I'd say there's likely a lesson in there somewhere.
Anyway, the important thing is that now that I know what I have, I think I'm in a better position to know what I want. And who. Enjoy your Friday, y'all. Take care.
Or maybe this is all merely the result of the local from this morning's dentist visit finally beginning to wear off and Hurt. Who's to say?