Sorta kinda. In some senses. I have several attributes which can be considered somewhat magnificent and, in some lights, vaguely godlike.

Look, I’m working on it. Building a stable self-worth after so many years of unlimited self-loathing is very tricky because I have to balance on a tightrope with self-annihilating loathing on one end and raving egomania on the other.

Basically, it’s a fight between “I am toxic scum who makes the world a worse place just by being alive” and “I am the smartest person….IN THE WORLD! All should bow before me and lick my nuts in blissful gratitude for my being alive! MUA HA HA, etc.!”

Secular Messiah is in there somewhere too, as is The Ogre(he’s new), and all the other facets of my personality.

But at least I am opening the door to the positive side of things lately. I am no longer nearly as scared to open the door to the raging screaming monster orgy of my untapped id as I used to be.

Sure there’s a lot of craziness in there. That’s what happens when one’s personality becomes so dangerously unbalanced.

But I have a firm hand on the door now and I can let the pressure out a little at a time.

Even better, I am learning to harness that pressure and redirect it into something healthy that badly needs the energy.

Like supporting my mood, for instance.

I was looking up one of my astrological aspects, Moon in Sagittarius, recently, and the article talked about its irrepressible optimism, and instead of my usual eyerolling “yeah right” type reaction, I realized that it’s true.

There is a strongly optimistic side of me that has been hidden under all this useless depression for a really long time.

And this is the side of me that I want to liberate the most. This endless wellspring of positive energy that yearns to be free of the oppressive weight of the no-fun collar of corrupted reason could do wonders for my mood just via its “fuck you, I am awesome” attitude and refusal to accept unhappiness as an answer.

So fuck that bullshit “reason and logic” circuit. It has vastly overreached its legitimate powers and is now just a thin disguise for naked cowardice and a broken regulating system that was supposed to keep me sane but instead just murdered me instead.

Well fuck it. Die, you miserable machine. I hereby rip the collar from my throat and throw it on the ground then stomp it into teeny tiny pieves.

Stupid thing never fit right anyhow.

Besides, there are worse things than chaos and going crazy. At this point in my so-called life, I am perfectly willing to lose my freaking mind if it means I get to be happy.

Better happy crazy than miserably sane.

Who am I kidding? I’m crazy either way. Might as well be the happy kind of crazy.

Sounds like a lot more fun.

And more seriously, maybe the path to sanity requires passing through regions of madness from time to time.

Maybe I need to go crazy from time to time in order to become sane.

One thing is for sure : stability is worthless if your life sucks.

More after the break.

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Making reality bend

Let’s talk about objectivity and how really fucking stupid it can be, shall we?

For most of my life, I have been hardcore committed to the ultimate objective truth of everything. My mind inherently cuts through all artifice and illusion to get to the truth at the very heart of things, and lets absolutely no other considerations – least of all personal ones – get in the way of its brutal and relentless search for the truth.

I am, as Robert Anton Wilson put it, one of the tribe of people who are determined to figure out what is really going on.

More fool me.

Because human beings need mercy. They need some way to shield themselves from the harshness of reality and that means there has to be a certain amount of wiggle room in their worldview so that they can adjust said worldview for maximum comfort.

“But that’s delusion!”, says the ancient brutal truth machine that until recently had free reign in my brain. “Why, that opens the door to believing all kinds of self-serving lies and that’s the first step towards MADNESS and CHAOS!”.

Yeah right. And if we let the kids wear dungarees, the streets will run red with blood by tomorrow noon as society devolves into shrieking anarchy.

Not all slopes are slippery, Grandpa!

And besides, it’s not like this relentless investigation and analysis ever made the tiniest of dents in the rampant delusions of my depression, so what good is it?

What use is sharp-minded political analysis if I continue to think everyone hates me?

And there are worse things than being a little deluded. Objectivity, taken too far, becomes toxic, just like everything else does.

Besides, no matter how much I love the truth, it will never love me back. It can’t. It’s far too hard and inflexible and cold to so much as glance in my direction.

Only I can give myself love, and that must be unconditional, a priori to any actual justification for said love.

I’m still working on that. I have never believed in unconditional love. Perhaps I am far too judgmental for it. I have always assumed that there is always some kind of condition attached. Actions so heinous that they could break the bond of love.

But then again, true love is an attachment between people. Maybe it’s possible to keep on loving someone even after they hurt you super bad.

And maybe it’s possible for people to love me no matter what I think of myself.

I want to believe that. I really do.

And maybe some day I will. Maybe some day I will be strong enough to truly believe in the love I know is there but do not feel.

After all, no matter how dark the night, the sun never stops shining.

Even when we cannot feel its warmth at all, and dawn feels like it is a thousand hours away, and we cannot even remember what sunlight felt like.

The sun is still there, shining away, happy and warm.

And we will feel it again when it rises.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.

Whiny, reluctant teen voice : “Well, I guess I should express some rage now. “

So yesterday, I ordered a bunch of stuff from the Ironwood Sav-On. Stuff that has that precious vitamin B12 in it.

And I knew there would be fuckery because the website has been redesigned. Uh oh.

That’s a rather touchy subject with me because Facebook’s last redesign made it so that I can’t see Notifications, can’t add a comment to stuff I post on my timeline, and can’t caption photos I upload.

Do you any idea how much it pisses me off to have my self-expression curtailed?

The first bit of fuckery : I got my order all together, went to check out, and only then realized I had somehow selected “pickup” instead of “delivery”.

Well that would have been pretty fucking useless. Thank Dog I caught it.

And whaddaya know, there is literally no way to change that at this point in the process so I have to start a brand new order and do all that shopping AGAIN.

The next number in our cavalcade of incompetence is the phone call from the store telling me my pickup order will be delayed.

My what now? I am positive I never finished that earlier order. Oh well, at least that gave me a chance to cancel it. at least.

Then comes the delivery, and the dude calls me to tell me he will be there soon (they always do that) and happens to mentioned that there have been some…substitutions.

(SFX : Dramatic sting, spooky thunderbolt)

And I am like….

The driver tells me they substituted regular Orange Crush for my Diet Orange Crush (clearly totally unacceptable)….

And had substituted regular Scotch mints for my sugar free kind.

This, despite the fact that in the “note to personal shopper” section of the order I wrote “Diabetic. Do not substitute sugary items for sugar free items. ”

I mean, what else could I do? They got rid of the “no substitutions” button in the redesign. That message was my only defense.

But again, at least I learned this before I got my order. Told the driver to cancel my order for those two things. Apparently my “personal shopper” ignored my “personal preferences”, aka medical necessities.

So my order showed up minus two things I was especially looking forward to, especially the sugar free Scotch mints.

I haven’t had my beloved Scotch mints in so long. I was so happy to find ones I could have without them killing me.

Oh, and just now, I am looking at computer monitors on Amazon.ca, and apparently there is no such thing as a normal computer monitor any more.

All they have is these “portable” monitors, all of which are SMALLER than my current monitor. Son of a bitch.

I don’t want portable! I want enormous and high res!

Maybe I should just buy a TV instead.

More after the break.

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Here we go again

What the fuck did I do to piss off the universe?

I order pizza from Pizza Hut. Big pizza (14″ Meat Lovers), little pizza (12″ Chicken Caesar…I can never resist the whole medium pizza for $5 deal), two 2L bottle of Diet Pepsi, nice and simple.

Pizza delivered. Big pizza, check. Little pizza, double check. And two 2L of… REGULAR PEPSI? What the FUCK, world?

Thus begins the saga of trying to figure out how to complain. I go all over the website looking for a “contact us” button or similar. Nuttin’.

Finally. I somehow persuade it to show me the stuff it usually shows at the bottom of the website and find the Contact Us button.

That leads me to a weirdly long form for feedback (I’ll give you some fucking feedback) which actually had the gall to ask me for my province and city TWICE (just ask the top half of the form, ya snaggle toothed cunt) so I filled the cocksucker out with my complaint and submitted it.

Jesus Herbert Christ, I’m so mad I’m going Islander.

But the online form wasn’t very satisfying. So I decide to call instead.

So I look up the number for my store, which is two blocks from here, and dial it. It rings and rings and rings and rings and then bumps me to the hotline.

I wait through some truly antique on-hold music (remember Muzak?) with the occasional voiceover that makes me feel like I am in a department store in the late Seventies (in a bad way) and then I get a nice lady on the phone who listens to my complaint then tells me she is going to transfer me to my local Pizza Hut.

Which is where I fucking started!

And what’s worse, the transfer won’t go through. Should have taken like two seconds but five minutes later and I am still listening to a warm female voice of the type used in science fiction mind control machines telling me how awesome Pizza Slut’s five different kinds of crust are.

That’s when I went “duh”, hung up, and hit redial.

This time someone answered! A guy said “Thank you for choosing Pizza Hut” and I started to relate my complaint but then it clicked into some mode where I was hearing my own voice come back to me, on a roughly 1.5 second delay.

Which is highly unnerving.

I hang up and redial – no answer. Nothing.

Because apparently, right after sending me into Solipsism Mode, the entire place returned to its home fucking dimension.

I mean, someone was there. Someone answered the phone. But then remembered that phones steal your soul, apparently.

I have redialed a half dozen times in the last hour – still nothing.

I guess our planets were only briefly aligned.

This whole day has left me feeling burly and defensive.

Like I want to go chest to chest with my gremlins and say, “Ya wanna go’er? Eh?”

Fuck this fucking fuckery.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.