Note the lack of comma. That’s intentional.

Because what I am going to address here is state of constant cringing apology for even being alive, and even worse, compounding the crime of my existence by being generally hapless, clueless, clumsy, and incompetent.

A walking disaster. A constant embarrassment. A disgusting display. And a total failure as a human being who makes people flinch with contempt when they think about him.^[1]

You know. All that bullshit.

What it all totals up to is a feeling like I am a net liability to the world. That the little bits of good I contribute to the world from my bunker come nowhere near to canceling out all the ill I do just by being alive and stinking up the joint.

Note that this worldview puts a lot of weight on negative about myself that are nebulous to the point of being existential.

Like, how, exactly, does being myself make the world worse off? Do I give off some kind of Lovecraftian radiation that warps and twists time and space into unleashing non-Euclidian horrors upon the unsuspecting world?

Actually, that would be kind of cool. But only if they obey me.

All of this negatively is delusional, of course. As I recently established, I am in fact a pretty amazing dude. And not just for my abilities. I’m also very sweet and kind and compassionate and empathetic. I truly care about people and want them to be happy.

And I am funny and interesting and a great conversationalist. And gosh darn cute.

So what if I am kind of pathetic when it comes to life skills and physical things and am quite a spaz in general, to the point of having trouble doing even fairly simple things?

There are worse things in life than needing help with the basics. Whatever strain that puts on those who love me is minor compared to all the good I do them by being my merry magical self.

Because that’s the thing. I’m a magical creature, rare and special and amazing. There aren’t a lot of people out there like me and I make people happy in ways that other people cannot. I love to spread sunshine, and I have gotten pretty good at it.

There’s nobody else like me out there. And I should treasure that.

My disabilities and inabilities don’t cancel out all my positives any more than the late Stephen Hawking’s quadriplegia canceled out his. Lots of famous, important, and beloved people were not very good at life and needed help with basic things.

And nobody cares. It’s not like anyone is saying “Sure, George Clooney is an amazing actor, activist, and philanthropist, but none of that matters because he can’t make a proper Bundt cake. ”

Neither can I, George. They always burn in the middle.

So I hereby let myself off the hook ^[2] for all the petty little meaningless things I usually use to justify low self esteem.

And that includes never having had a job or been in a relationship.

Because guess what? I’ve been very sick.

But now I am determined to get well.

More after the break,

---

(Too) High on life

The cereal. I smoke it. It’s fantastic.

Well the good news is that I am in a pretty good mood. Got my recently acquired heavy metal and heavy metal music pumping. Stuff like this :

God I love that song. And the video is fucking amazing too. It’s like all the coolest tattoos, graffiti, and album covers of the 90’s came to life.

And I have a bow of tasty chili, plus some veggie chips for dipping.

One little quibble with the Sav-on bulk veggie chips : while it’s all veggies, a lot of it is either not chip shaped or chip shaped but too small for dipping.

That stuff is not so much veggie chips as veggie kipple.

And I got these veggie chips specifically because I was really missing chips and the dipping thereof. Most forms of chip are carbs, of course, and I don’t eat carbs much any more. But I really missed the chip experience.

So it’s a bit annoying to be partially denied dipping opportunities.

Anyhow, I am in a good mood. Life seems pretty decent right now. Got my games and my blog and my snacks. So why sweat the rest?

What’s more, I think I might just have a handle on how to yank my head up out of the depths of despair now and then. It’s not a gentle or painless process, at least not yet, but i can grab a hank of my hair and pull now.

And that’s, ya know, big. Finally, I can get my mood up off the ground by throwing some energy into it. Finally, my boosting thrusters kind of work.

It’s more of a modest jump than takeoff at Cape Canaveral, but it’s a start.

Besides, I am done bemoaning my fate. I’m going to work on enjoying what I have instead. Not interested in bitching about how badly my life turned out right now.

But that doesn’t mean suppressing all my darkness and sadness in order to slap a patina of cheerfulness over my emotional landfill either. I will still howl out my demon’s screams and barf up my shrapnel on a regular basis.

The difference is that I’m no longer act like my mood is my reality. When I am happy I will sing a happy song full of blue skies and sunshine. When I am sad, I will sing a song so sad it makes the angels weep a sky full of rain. When I am angry, I will scream till fire falls to earth. And when I am depressed, I will spill my darkness like ink across a virgin page and drown the world in my pain.

Whatever I’ve got, I will express. And by expressing, let it pass through me, no more or less real than the shadow of a passing cloud.

I think that is the lesson of Mediterranean culture I have been looking for : no emotions are all that bad if you let yourself express them.

After all, why hold on to them? Let it go. Let it ALL go.

And some day we may be clean. Amen.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.