It’s gorgeous out there.
But not in here. Where I am.
In here, it’s always cold, and dark, and lonely.
So like the narrator of this song, I can sit and watch those children, but I can’t join them.
Warning, this song is not depressing, but it is very sad.
I often felt like that kid growing up. Except that there was nothing wrong with me physically back then. I was just very depressed, and scared.
And nobody noticed, or cared.
But that’s because I hid it well. I don’t know why. I suppose all males have an urge to hide vulnerability, or did at least.
God, I hope it’s better now.
Back then, though, in the 70’s and early 80’s, vulnerability in boys was punished, usually by other boys. We were socialized to reflexively seize upon and mock any sign of “weakness” or femininity or softness in one another and so we learn at an early age to hide that shit and front like nothing bothers us.
But it does bother us. We’re just not allowed to show it.
Not even to ourselves.
And I guess I learned that lesson along with all the other boys despite being a big fat weirdo who was socially isolated and mostly clueless.
Gee, thanks, cultural osmosis.
But like billions of other men, I have discovered the truth Bill Withers wrote about in one of my favorite songs of all time :
To wit : Please
Swallow your pride
If I have faith
You need to borrow
For
No one can meet
Those of your needs
That you won’t let show
In other words, if you aren’t getting any TLC, maybe it’s because you’re not asking for any. If you go around pretending you’re invulnerable, nobody is going to give you the love and warmth and tenderness you crave.
To this day, I don’t “act” all sad and broken and depressed. When other people are around, my slick façade is firmly in place, and I seem friendly, open, confident, and bright. Nobody would suspect that I am deeply ill on so many levels.
And I don’t know how to change that yet. Our social mask is not easily discarded. It’s almost as old as we are. We learn to mask ourselves not long after toilet training and going against that deep a level of programming takes a lot more than willpower.
Plus I don’t even think it would be worth it. What would I gain by advertising my pain? In my experience, all it would do is make people uncomfortable and put them through the effort of brushing me off.
No wonder I got so bad at Doctor Chao.
Maybe when I was a kid, I might have attracted the attention of an adult who could help me if I had been able to drop the smartass attitude and shown them my pain.
But probably not. I wasn’t human back then, nor am I now.
I’m just some gross fat guy.
Just scrape me off and wash me down the sink.
More after the break.
Love this to bits :
You should see him at Disneyland.
NDT (into bullhorn) : That is not a real mouse! Real mice are much smaller and they do NOT wear shorts. OR GLOVES.
Can’t stand him OR Bill Nye any more.
They have both become demagogues speaking only to their idolaters and spewing anti-religious hate and weaponized ignorance to the masses.
Damn do I miss Carl Sagan.
The mystery of Mustafa
Must not slip up and call him Mufasa.
Anyhow, ordered in. Donair Dude. Love their food and the price is pretty dang good too.
Our pal Skip tells me my driver will be Mustafa and he is on the way to DD. Boffo. It says my food should arrive in 30 minutes.
Works for me.
I play BG3 for a while, but quit because I mistakenly think the half hour mark since I ordered is coming up.
It had only been 13 mins. Could have kept playing. D’oh.
Oh well. I didn’t feel like loading the game up again so instead, I went to buy a month of the program I used to gank mp3’s off of YouTube.
That’s how I have done it for years now. When I want to get something, I buy a month’s subscription for like $12.
Not an option any more. Minimum buy is half a year. Well poop.
I say what the heck, toss them $35 CDN for a whole year. What the heck, I have the cashflow at the moment, and this way I don’t have to think about it for a year.
Oh. And it’s not called Music Keeper any more. Now it’s Aqua Tune, which sound to me like a toothpaste for singers. Whatever.
I get all that done and check on how Mustafa is doing with my order as the half hour mark had come and gone a while ago.
HE IS STILL ON THE WAY TO DONAIR DUDE.
What the fuck, Mustafa?
I look at the route he has taken. He passed right by Donair Dude twice!
Dude cannot find the frigging place.
I am pondering which hairs to pull out when I look at the tracker again and see that Mustafa is gone and now Francis is delivering my order.
At least in theory. Nothing has shown up yet and I ordered at 9:10 pm and it’s 10:15 PM.
Tracker says Francis is 7 minutes away. We shall see.
But I want to know what mysterious fate befell Mustafa.
I figure he fell into one of those reality glitches where you turn down a familiar road and end up in a completely unfamiliar neighborhood that you had no idea even existed, let alone how you could have missed it so many times.
I’ve had dreams like that, man. They are freaky, especially in retrospect.
Final arrival : 10:20 pm.
Whereabouts of Mustafa remain unknown.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.