I was originally going to do a whole “I hate my stupid fucking life” thing today so I could get some of my negatives out, but fuck it, I am too tired after errands to do it, so I will try something a little more mellow instead.
It’s true that I seriously hate my stupid fucking life. Nothing in it is good enough. Nothing in it is right.
Here I am, brain the size of a planet, absurdly gifted, and a heck of a nice guy to boot (and oh so modest) rotting away in a filthy bedroom in an apartment full of garbage and random crap, playing video games all day while life passes me by with a vengeance.
And all because I am locked in a cage by my mental fucking illness.
No sex life. No work life. If it wasn’t for my friends, I would have no social life either.
So thank God for my friends. Without them I would be far more insane.
But it’s not enough, There is so much of live that I want to experience but my mental illness and its ball and chain of fear and depression hold me back.
Dammit. My mind keeps wandering. Sure, add that to my day, why the fuck not.
I am so tired of this dead-end existence of mine. I deserve so much better than this. I should be out there making mad cash with my extraordinary talents, with my own place that is nice and clean and full of beautiful things that make me happy when I look at them and all kinds of creature comforts like a really good bed with really soft and cozy bedding, a sweet-ass computer with a sweet-ass computer desk and like the world’s most ergonomic chair to sit in, top notch room to room audio, and so on and so forth,
And I should have a stable and loving boyfriend who thinks I am brilliant and wonderful and who pampers me while I dote on him and who lets me shower him with the exuberant affection that is my nature while giving me the kind of quiet, calm, steadying love I need when my demons are screaming and trying to fly away with me so I need someone to anchor me and hold me tight.
And I deserve an exciting and rewarding career where I make fantastic, out of this world, top quality art with a fantastic group of talented, fun, creative people and jump out of bed at the start of every day because I am so happy to get back to making the magic with my extended family of collaborators.
And what the hell. I deserve an eclectic collection of critters to look after and dote on. Probably mostly cats, admittedly, but other critters as well.
I would love to have a neat little micro-farm, with a few cows, a couple of goats, a horse or two, a couple of scruffy country dogs, and enough land for them to all be happy in my tiny slice of bucolic heaven.
I’m not sure about chicken. Fresh eggs are amazingly good but chickens are not pleasant animals and I am not sure if I would want them around.
Well, somehow, this turned into Fru’s Perfect Life. Kind of the opposite of the angry rant about how my life sucks I had planned.
And yet, kind of the same thing as well.
More after the break.
Another thing about my ideal living space : NO CLUTTER. None! Nothing would ever be left just lying around, whether I have to put it away myself or I can afford servants to do it for me. Everything would be put away.
I am so sick of crap everywhere that I am totally willing to submit to the very “a place for everything and everything in its place” mentality that I have always found icky before.
Beats the hell out of feeling like I live at the bottom of a pile of rubble.
I might have items like throw pillows, cushions, and other comfy things around in a clutter-ish fashion – I am still not sure how to keep a place neat and tidy without making it feel blank and barren and antiseptic.
But the point is, things would not make me sad or mad when I look at them.
There is a strong desire for order and tidiness buried under my usual timid laziness and I am determined to excavate it, god damn it.
And there will be cats. Plural. The best toy for a cat is another cat, and in this fantasy life of mine I might not be home a lot, so I would want at least two cats so they could keep themselves amused while I am away.
I can’t imagine my going full on crazy cat person, as I would be too worried about the cats’ health and welfare to let things get out of hand.
But I might become a person with a crazy amount of cats. But they would be healthy cats living in a clean and healthy environment.
Right now, in my head, the place I am describing is a modest two bedroom apartment someplace fun, like the Commercial Drive area.
I wouldn’t want a big place. Not if I am there all alone. I could be quite happy in a two bedroom place, with the extra bedroom used as an office or library or whatnot.
Heck, I would be happy with a one bedroom place if it was nice enough.
And to be honest, it would be nice to start over somewhere new. Abandon my white elephant of a king sized bed [1] and all the rest of the crap I have been moving to place to place without ever using and just take my computer, my books, and my clothes, and start over in a clean new apartment, and KEEP IT THAT WAY.
From there forward, I could choose each thing that enters my home based on how much it pleases me. Nothing ugly or disharmonious would be allowed in.
I could build myself quite the little nest if I started over somewhere.
But I would have to leave my current life behind first.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.