Terrible. Right now, life feels pretty bad.
But that doesn’t mean that I am bad.
Let me make this clear : I am now, as always, a perfectly wonderful, valuable, worthy person who deserves all the good things in life and who is just as good as anyone and way better than a lot of people who just happens to feel pretty lousy right now.
Got that, universe? I’m a great person who feels crappy, not a crappy person!
My physical and emotional state has nothing to do with who I am or what I am worth. Even in the depths of the most brutal agonies. I’d still be awesome. Even when my depression makes me feel sick in the soul and the world seems sick and vile and polluted and I feel disgusted by everything, I will still be awesome. And even when my darkness and rage and frustration with life makes me want to kill the world and all things in it just to get some fucking peace and quiet, I am still one super awesome dude.
I hereby declare independence from mood. Let the chemicals in my brain fluctuate as they may, I will not be moved. No random reconfiguration of neurochemicals can have the slightest impact on my worth, value, or esteem, and that is true both logically and emotionally, as well as spiritually.
Also legally, morally, and in every other sense.
Therefore, I hereby build an impregnable temple within my soul which is impervious to all the chaos and noise of my unstable inner world. In it, I reign supreme eternally, and no foul or toxic thing can ever penetrate its brutal brick walls.
Yet still the light gets in. All the good things in life can come and go freely. All the love, praise, valuation, affirmation, affection, validation, and sheer glorious sunshine that I want and need are piped directly into my soul.
My temple might be strong, but it also has a skylight.
Because while safety is a top priority, it is not and shall never be the only priority. Happiness is, now and forever, the only game in town. Every other consideration, including and especially safety, is subsidiary to the overwhelming and overriding goal of my own personal happiness.
This town has only one industry, and happiness is it.
Because hey baby, I’m the king. This place is by, for, and about me and only me. I will never stop caring deeply about others and wanting them to be healthy and happy and free, but in this little world of mine, all that matters is my needs and my desires.
It’s my oral retentive slice of heaven and I am totally fine with that.
I am building a whole new self here, and it is going to need lots of emotional nourishment in order to survive and be born healthy and strong.
The time of emotional starvation is over and I am going to feast upon the pleasures of this buffet table called life until I am fat and sassy and gloriously clad in healthy muscle and bone once again.
I’m going to live, god damn it. Survival isn’t nearly enough.
And god have pity on whatever gets in my way.
More after the break.
My strange dislikes
File this under “Am I a fussy eater?”.
For whatever reason, lately I have been thinking about the popular foods I do not like. I suppose it’s all part of getting in touch with my true self and trying to figure out who I really am by examining things I know about myself in a new light,
Pursuant to that objective, here’s a list of well loved foods I can’t stand.
Olives. To me they are disgusting, vile things that look like alien eyeballs and taste worse. I find it hard to imagine how anyone could enjoy that flavour. Even the smell of extra virgin olive oil (guaranteed one extra virgin in every bottle), which is pretty much just generic vegetable oil with a light olive flavour, makes me wanna urf.
In terms of popular opinion, though, olives are not exactly universally beloved. A dislike of olives is relatively unlikely to leave you with nothing to eat at a fancy party.
Similarly, sweet relish/pickles. One less option for topping my hamburger or hot dog and one less side dish. Big whoop.
Maraschino cherries. Completely vile. But unless we’re having kirsch sorbet or cherries jubilee, all it costs me is a garnish.
Moving up the scale, blueberries. They taste quite gross to me. Like sour coffee. This bugs me personally because they look and seem like something I would like, but nope. There is a fundamental incompatibility there.
Same with cheesecake. Can’t stand the stuff. And unlike blueberries, cheesecake is everywhere. It is a go-to dessert in all restaurants. If a place has only one dessert offering, there is a fifty percent change it’s cheesecake.
Frozen pizza/Pizza Pops/canned pasta et al. Went into this recently, but it belongs on this list, so here we are.
Ham. The North American version, at least. The sweet kind. Can’t stand it. Doesn’t bother me if it’s in with lots of other stuff in a sub or on a pizza, but as an entrée it gaks me out, man. Tastes like it is overripe.
And this one can really mess me up because “everybody” love ham and so I might well be sans main dish at a meal where ham is the main attraction.
And finally, the biggest one of all, seafood. That’s like an entire wing of the animal kingdom I don’t eat. Particularly tough when you grow up in the Maritimes.
It’s true that I might be allergic to seafood. But I have never been tested. And it smells so bad that I have never had the guts or motivation to make myself acquire a taste, or at least try to.
And that one really bothers me. It makes me feel like such a plebe. It’s such an enormous swath of cuisine that so many people enjoy that I feel like I am trop, trop gauche for being such a pussy about it.
That’s all the ones I can think of at the moment. There’s probably more, but whatever.
I can think of a lot of things I like that others do not, but none of them are food.
I will work on it.