Forcing myself to blog right after therapy even though I really, really don’t feel like it.
Which is normal for me when I have just finished therapy. I feel very emotionally tender and vulnerable and even somewhat bruised right after therapy, and the last thing i want to do is keep on poking and prodding myself via blogging.
That’s why I have been just plain skipping it lately. On Thursdays, I don’t start blogging until 7 pm or so. That’s been the pattern for a couple of months now.
But not today. Today, I felt the need to dig in and keep going instead. I didn’t want to slump back into the depths of solipsistic ennui and mindless distraction. I wanted to keep the catharsis and the sense of my emotions being real and present going.
The idea of watching YouTube vids as I eat lunch then going right back to sleeping and video games seem appalling to me at this moment.
Because the truth is, as vulnerable and weak and battered as I feel right now, I also feel way more alive than usual.
And I want to feel alive.
I want to be alive.
I want more life, fuckers. This somnambulist lifestyle just isn’t cutting it for me any more. I want to be awake and alive and present instead of half-asleep and half-dead and three quarters not even here right now.
I want the wind to come and chase this fog away so that I can finally feel the warmth of the sun and be healthy and whole again.
And if that wind has to come in the form of a hurricane, so be it.
Whatever it takes to bring myself back to life, I’ll do it.
Whatever needs to happen inside me in order for me to be free., I will make it happen.
Whatever the healing process needs to do in order to make me whole. let it happen.
Because I am fed up with all this bullshit and would like to finally come home.
More after the break.
Under the Dome, part 2
Ordered from The Dome again.
Good news! The fries continue to be crazy delicious. Yay! It was not a fluke.
Also got chicken fingers (chickens don’t have fingers) and a cheese quesadilla (which is redundant because the ‘quesa’ in quesadilla means cheese, so “cheese quesadilla” basically translates to “cheese cheese sandwich”).
Chicken fingers are pretty good. Breading tastes fresh and spice level is good.
I am slightly paranoid about spice level ever since a traumatic experience with fried chicken with absolutely zero spice.
My god, that was awful. Without spices, the bread just makes things grittier. Left the aftertaste of expired dry dog food.
Anyhow. my meal from The Dome is quite good. And if I hadn’t splurged on the quesadilla (I hope that was the last time I have to type the word “quesadilla”) it would have cost about the same as a meal at McD’s.
And tasted way, way better. No drink though.
I have to admit, I kind of want to see this place some day. The weirdly limited menu composed entirely of combinations of the same eight things intrigues me.
Plus the menu contains weird things like “cheese corn snacks” (clearly a basket of Cheezies) and jumbo Mr. Freezie’s.
So Cheezies and Freezies, basically. They should have a special.
Anyhow, the place is both magically delicious and substantially weird, and that makes me want to go there to see it in person.
My hope is that it’s like the mom and pop snack bars of my youth where the only cooking equipment is a deep fryer and so everything you can get from there is either deep fried or not cooked at all.
I have particularly fond memories of a little place called the Brown Derby which was just down the block from my babysitter Betty’s house.
It was a combination snack bar and corner grocery. There was an order window where you ordered hot food and a door into grocery store part.
Both were positioned so that the lady who ran the place could take food orders or ring up your groceries without moving.
And you got your fries in a greasy brown paper bag.
That sound sloppy as fuck, but it’s not that bad. The paper soaks up a lot of grease and very little makes it to the exterior of the bag.
Smart people still grip it only by the top fold, though.
Happy for no reason
Why do we need a reason to be happy?
Why can’t happy be the default state? Why can’t people be happy except for when they have a reason not to be,, and once that reason is gone, they’re happy again?
And most importantly. why would be assume that if someone is happy all the time, they must be either stupid or crazy or both?
What is the relationship between intelligence and unhappiness?
Maybe all we are really doing is making “sour grapes” assumptions that protect our sanity because if someone was super happy and smart it would drive us nuts.
So if someone is very happy, there MUST be something deeply wrong with them, just to maintain the balance.
Otherwise we would go crazy from the envy alone.
I also think that there is a lingering belief amongst us brainy types that dumb people are happier than us. We are only too aware of how being a smartypants can wreck our fun and we like to imagine that people without our problems must be happy.
But they aren’t. They might not have our problems but they have just as many problems. Problems that would be laughably easy for us to solve.
In other words, they have just as many problems as we do.
They’re just stupider problems.
The thing is, there actually are people out there who are happy by default. They have a deep wellspring of cheerfulness in their souls and not only are those people way happier than most, they live longer and stay healthy longer too.
Those lucky goddamned bastards.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.