That was what I screamed in my head this morning when I put a full 1.8 L glass of tap water on my desk, turned my computer chair so I could sit in it, and in doing so caused the back of the chair to smack into said glass of water and spill it all over my desk.
This kind of thing happens to me all the time. And it’s incredibly frustrating and dispiriting. I try to be careful with my movements and to think through the chain of events that I might be about to set off, but inevitably my mind wanders and disaster strikes and I once more feel like an idiot who lives in a boobytrapped world in which he has been designated the head booby.
And I know my own part in this slapstick farce of a life of mine. I know that the fact that I never clean anything and that therefore there’s always dirt and clutter everywhere sets me up for these awkward and potentially very dangerous events.
But that’s not the whole story, because I have been a total slob for decades and only started having mishaps at the current elevated rate recently.
As in, since I got back from the hospital last August.
And it seems to be getting worse over time and that worries me greatly. Clearly something is going wrong with me neurologically that makes these things happen and that is following a degenerative pathology.
Not that the medical world cares. I am clearly going to have to take matters into my own hands and become a very, very squeaky wheel indeed.
Anyhow, the whole thing makes me wanna scream and then move into some kind of facility for the life-threateningly klutz where everything is covered in foam rubber and bubble wrap and made by Nerf.
Or not. That might be more humiliating than having to get a nurse or assistant to do things for me instead.
At least then I could feel like I was still in control.
I’ve always thought I would make a better executive than a worker anyhow.
I am he who writes the specs, not he who follows them.
Feeling reasonably good physically. No more surprise poops, knock on wood.
Psychologically, things are superficially calm but down below there is turmoil and upheaval as I hack away at the thick, gnarled roots of my mental illness in an attempt not just to understand what the hell is going on with my mutant mentation but to actively unseat the malignant growth and get it the hell out of me,
Or at least to clear the way to route around the damage.
I feel like as I root around down there, the true face of mu illness is slowly revealing itself and once I can see it fully and clearly, I will be able to bring the full power of my incredible rational mind to bear on it, and it will fade away like frost at dawn.
That’s the plan, anyhow.
More after the break.
We’re knocking on heaven’s door
But not like this :
..but like this :
It’s funny how age peels back the layers of bullshit we use to protect ourselves.
Way back when Almost Paradise was making its way up the charts and becoming the song of the summer, I sneered at it.
After all, it was just more pop love song garbage meant to manipulate the emotions of the sheeple who listen to all that top 40 crap.right?
I certainly don’t need to actually listen to it to know this. I can tell what kind of song it is, and that’s enough, because after all, they’re all the same.
Mind that phrase because it is the truest and most reliable hallmark of prejudice there is. All forms ot bigotry essentially boil down to treating a subset of the population like a monolithic whole of which individuals are merely identical instances.
In other words, treating them like they are all the same.
Viewed from another angle. prejudice can be seen as false knowledge. The bigot thinks they know a lot about a person simply because that person belongs to one of the groups against which they are bigoted.
A black person is “probably” a criminal. A man “probably” beats or assaults women. A corporate executive “probably” has done terrible things in the name of profit. A Jewish person “probably” had money stashed in one of the banks they own. And so on.
Now to a certain extent, this kind of reduction of people to their subgroups is inevitable because we are simply not built to handle thinking of and treating the thousands of people we see in media and encounter in our lives as individuals.
One popular bit of research showed that we have room in our heads for between 100 and 150 individuals and everyone else is just “them”.
They belong to that amorphous entity called “people” or “humanity” or “kids these days” or whatever else we come up with so that we can pretend we know enough about all those other naked beach apes all around us to feel safe around them.
And in a very real sense, we do. We can be reasonably sure that 99.999 percent of our fellow democratic citizens are very unlikely to suddenly bop us on the head and take our stuff, for instance. Or pull us out of our car and steal it a la Grand Theft Auto.
That sense of safety is vital to the functioning of any modern democratic society, even though it requires us, on an abstract level, to pretend people are “all the same”.
A sentiment inimical to the actual core values of our modern individualistic societies.
God as my witness, I have no idea where the hell I was going with all of this.
Maybe nowhere. I often follow branches of reasoning all the way to the outer limits of human consciousness then suddenly look around and say, “Wait, where the hell am I?”
Someone get me an Uber.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.