My life has gotten a bit more enjoyable lately, and it's all because I said "I do...not give a fuck". If you know 3DAJ or you've been hanging around here for a while, you know that mentality ain't exactly a new concept where it concerns things that are within my control but beyond my concern, but due to recent and future events, I've been somewhat limited in that which I could apply my adult version of "Hakuna Matata" cuz...you know, everything mattered.
Honestly, it was a tough time...reconciling my tumultous inner state with the continuing and increasing demands of the outside world like faking a socially acceptable amount of happiness at a life-altering event, writing a book at work, trying to look like I wasn't writing a book at work while faking a socially acceptable amount of happiness at a life-altering event, and keeping the entire thing from my parents (hey, they just found out about umf less than 3 months ago, so you can imagine how much like mushrooms I treated those two, keeping them in the dark with a bunch of bullshit since high school...oh well) was a lot of work.
I wasn't sure what I should say and how much I should say about it...how it was cool to feel about everything, what was okay to share, how much of my ass to show the world...it was a powerfully confusing time. I barely knew what to do with my feelings without confusing others with poorly structured, overly long and darkly humorous posts about them (plus I didn't feel all that entertaining...if you wanted to hear some emo-lite dude wax sensitive about girl-related issues, you could always buy a Drake album)...so I kinda shut the fuck up about it.
Of course, you know it's not really me to shut the fuck up...I mean, look how long you've been reading this one post. Then again, I wasn't really feeling like myself. The sense of humor that functions as an atmosphere that the asteroids of life can burn up in before making earth-shattering impact on the surface of my existence just wasn't dense enough for this particular rock of my world. Everything felt heavier (including my de facto girlfriend) and I even let my day job start getting under my skin. It was just too damn much for my life (and that's why it's all going in the next book, because it's just enough for everyone else's).
Somewhere along the line, relatively recently...maybe even today...I realized my problem...I was forgetting the words that have always been so effective in resolving the majority of situations: "fuck it". A simple mantra, yes...but one with many applications. For example, I have a kid now...hey, fuck it...at least she's a good partner, didn't make him funny-looking, changes most of the diapers and probably won't hit me up for child support (and won't bitch too much about being a guinea pig for my book research). Sure, I'm not happy about being put in this position...but would anybody? From a certain viewpoint, I'm trapped, stuck, doing 18 years to life...but fuck it. As many situations of this kind (usually involving some hoodrat) are much, much worse, I might not be the free man I once was but I ain't "Locked Up Abroad", so that's something.
This is the mindstate I found myself in as I sat and chatted to a co-worker about blatantly non-work-related things this afternoon. For months, I had been a brooding shell of my former self, but in the last few weeks I'd noticed a familiar feeling of selective disregard wrapping itself around me like a security blanket with a middle finger printed on it. My mind was clearer. My comebacks came quicker. I began to feel whole. Of course, that's when my asshole extraordinare boss came over and attempted to reprimand me for wasting time like every other American employee after 12 on a Friday.
In months past, I might have let this affect me, carrying my bad feelings around like a neck yoke, bowing my shoulders to external influence and scurrying off to appear busy no nobody put the final straw on my emotionally beaten back while on the clock. Now, I had made peace with myself and pieces with everyone who didn't like it. I calmly informed him that I was doing about as much work as anyone else, and went off to outdo them by pushing a cart full of files around to a few offices. His stunned silence might as well have been a round of applause...I strutted away with the trolling face and continued my day.
Of course, thinking these things, rationalizing in this manner, living this way and being so damn proud of it will never make me the most popular. Some people might think I'm too off-the-wall, a malcontent, a sociopath...and hell, from in their shoes, they're probably right. I could see where people whould get that...thing is, I also know where they can stick it. It's all good...at some point, I divorced myself from all the bullshit (for a reason, cite the title.) Feels good, man.
Honestly, it was a tough time...reconciling my tumultous inner state with the continuing and increasing demands of the outside world like faking a socially acceptable amount of happiness at a life-altering event, writing a book at work, trying to look like I wasn't writing a book at work while faking a socially acceptable amount of happiness at a life-altering event, and keeping the entire thing from my parents (hey, they just found out about umf less than 3 months ago, so you can imagine how much like mushrooms I treated those two, keeping them in the dark with a bunch of bullshit since high school...oh well) was a lot of work.
I wasn't sure what I should say and how much I should say about it...how it was cool to feel about everything, what was okay to share, how much of my ass to show the world...it was a powerfully confusing time. I barely knew what to do with my feelings without confusing others with poorly structured, overly long and darkly humorous posts about them (plus I didn't feel all that entertaining...if you wanted to hear some emo-lite dude wax sensitive about girl-related issues, you could always buy a Drake album)...so I kinda shut the fuck up about it.
Of course, you know it's not really me to shut the fuck up...I mean, look how long you've been reading this one post. Then again, I wasn't really feeling like myself. The sense of humor that functions as an atmosphere that the asteroids of life can burn up in before making earth-shattering impact on the surface of my existence just wasn't dense enough for this particular rock of my world. Everything felt heavier (including my de facto girlfriend) and I even let my day job start getting under my skin. It was just too damn much for my life (and that's why it's all going in the next book, because it's just enough for everyone else's).
Somewhere along the line, relatively recently...maybe even today...I realized my problem...I was forgetting the words that have always been so effective in resolving the majority of situations: "fuck it". A simple mantra, yes...but one with many applications. For example, I have a kid now...hey, fuck it...at least she's a good partner, didn't make him funny-looking, changes most of the diapers and probably won't hit me up for child support (and won't bitch too much about being a guinea pig for my book research). Sure, I'm not happy about being put in this position...but would anybody? From a certain viewpoint, I'm trapped, stuck, doing 18 years to life...but fuck it. As many situations of this kind (usually involving some hoodrat) are much, much worse, I might not be the free man I once was but I ain't "Locked Up Abroad", so that's something.
This is the mindstate I found myself in as I sat and chatted to a co-worker about blatantly non-work-related things this afternoon. For months, I had been a brooding shell of my former self, but in the last few weeks I'd noticed a familiar feeling of selective disregard wrapping itself around me like a security blanket with a middle finger printed on it. My mind was clearer. My comebacks came quicker. I began to feel whole. Of course, that's when my asshole extraordinare boss came over and attempted to reprimand me for wasting time like every other American employee after 12 on a Friday.
In months past, I might have let this affect me, carrying my bad feelings around like a neck yoke, bowing my shoulders to external influence and scurrying off to appear busy no nobody put the final straw on my emotionally beaten back while on the clock. Now, I had made peace with myself and pieces with everyone who didn't like it. I calmly informed him that I was doing about as much work as anyone else, and went off to outdo them by pushing a cart full of files around to a few offices. His stunned silence might as well have been a round of applause...I strutted away with the trolling face and continued my day.
Of course, thinking these things, rationalizing in this manner, living this way and being so damn proud of it will never make me the most popular. Some people might think I'm too off-the-wall, a malcontent, a sociopath...and hell, from in their shoes, they're probably right. I could see where people whould get that...thing is, I also know where they can stick it. It's all good...at some point, I divorced myself from all the bullshit (for a reason, cite the title.) Feels good, man.
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