Please excuse my brain; it’s a mess

Good morning, good evening, good afternoon. I find it hard to complain when everything I know, everything that is is usually under my direct control. It’s the basic principle of complacency, in a way. “You’re so sad/bored/overworked/unappreciated, do something about it.” I usually add a ‘bitch’ at the end, but that’s only when I’m angry. No. I’m just mildly fascinated at the moment.

We make friends with people so that we have someone to dump all our frustrations on so that we don’t feel alone. More monkey-mind than anything else. No man is an island, but I think we should share more with each other than troubles and woes and complaints. I think that’s why I draw to begin with.

Every time I hear someone start off a conversation like that, my eyes take a skyward turn and my stomach jostles a bit. I’s not that I can’t appreciate the pain of your suffering. It’s that I have shit of my own, on my own level, that I’d rather not try to compete with you over.

This. This is why I don’t like making friends. People just don’t know how to be. Animals can be. They can exist just fine with out this incessant ‘I’ that feels as though it needs gender and knowledge and happiness. That’s what hormones are for.

I resist. I refute. I refuse. There has to be something better. There is always something better. Then again, what is it that I’m looking for? Am I even looking in the right places. People will always be people. They will always have a want for straightening things out and making them into things that they are not. Is my thinking just a new step in this? Seeking to un-straighten everything we made flat and boring? Seeking to destroy and undermine grooming speech? Turning politeness into a nod, a look of a smile and having everyone be happy with it? (Because the world would be so much better if people would just say what they’re really thinking… )

If we smiled at each other more, it would be nice. It would be awkward at first, but I think we could get the hang of it. The bearing of teeth is an aggro thing amongst the great apes, so smiling for no reason scares us. I don’t mean huge, wide, forced smiles, no. More like small ones. Partially parted lips. Smiling at ones own transgression so that it becomes a barometer of how we feel.

Over the years, i have never smiled when I was sad. Not that I can remember. And this is good, because it might have not made any sense. I’ve done it when upset, out of confusion, but not when I am truly sad. Visual and personal signifiers just take on a whole new meaning when you stop purposefully seeking people.

Perhaps, with this thing we call an Internets, I have achieved something that no other person could have ever dreamed of grasping. I do believe I have found the me that I want reflected back onto the world. Quiet, pensive, but as still as a deep river. It’s no nirvana, but I’ll take it. Siddhartha the man went out into the world, experienced every life he could, then found a tree in the middle of the desert, meditated by it’s radiance, and became Siddhartha the Buddha, who ferries people across a river and offers his wisdom to whom he feels needs it. I did this, only my tree was probably the Central Library of Philadelphia. I seek nothing but a way to express myself without making others suffer. Or ‘suffer’, however the case my be.

Maybe I should have went for that masters in philosophy. People would certainly take me seriously if I did. Hah. Equating intelligence to the achievement of wasting 5+ years of your time to receive a paper that basically said that you wasted 5+ years of your time writing papers and giving reports. To do what with? To get a job advising some headstrong CEO about the consequences of running an ad with housewife implications during an action movie? Alright, sounds like fun.

Thank you, and have a nice day.


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