While you were in space, we began a project to clone you...
When I go off on one of my little diatribes about certain things, I generally mean no ill-intent. At least to people I know. If I did, I’d make it private and that would be the end of it. I write my mind, my thoughts... granted it’s for all the world to see, but whatever, I cannot not be straight-forward about what I am thinking. It would go against my character. Well, out here at least.
Anyway, that being said..
I keep going off on tangents about wanting to know more people. Again not meaning that the people I do know are insufficient. But, different kinds of people. I was thinking on the way home about how a lot of people I know don’t really have the same level of ludicrous passion about things I do. Maybe because they are sane and settled in their lives. Is it wrong that I am not? That I am always wanting something more, even if I do little to achieve more? I think not.
My thoughts were all prompted by an email I got earlier. I wonder why the people I come in contact with don’t want to just be impulsive. Do something completely different. Even if just for a bit. Me. Me of all people suggesting other people take on this attitude? Why, yes I am. I guess it all comes down to my selfishness. That I want to meet people like me.
Most people I know would think it’s crazy that I’d pay $170 for a single concert ticket to sit close to the stage and see an artist or group that’s fantastic (in my own mind). I think it’s insane not to. No matter the cost. $300 making a Halloween costume? Can someone do it for that little? Wake up at the ass-crack of dawn on the weekend just to be outside before the rest of the world? Sure. Two months meticulously inputting all your CDs into iTunes, exacting them down the the exact genre, searching for years that didn’t load, making sure all the remix names are in parenthesis... it’s not obsession, it’s precision.
I can’t even really say what I am trying to say here. My examples are boring.. so I’ll let Jack Kerouac say it for me...
”...the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes ’Awww!’”
I don’t claim (in all seriousness, super-genius comments aside) to be this ravenous, living being intent on sticking his fingers in everything. I am really rather set in my ways on a lot of things. Sometimes though when I do jump on one of my new wagons it’s often met with a lot of eye rolls and push offs. I’m just ”being me”... it’s just another "phase"... etc etc etc. My mom of all people used to do it to me all the time when I was a kid. Nothing I did was believable. I’d never stick with anything. I’d be bored with {insert fade} in a week. I despised her for always putting down things I was so into.
I am not trying to blame anyone for my issues, but it’s a let down when everyone around you thinks your ideas and fanaticisms are some fleeting passing of gas in the local universe. Even the people who sometimes seem initially excited suddenly fizzle out.
The hardest thing in the world for me to do is motivate myself. Especially when I realize the vast stupidity of some of the things I try achieving. I really wouldn’t mind once in a while someone backing me up and being equally excited about something. I am not saying someone that will kiss my ass, hang on my every word and jump off a bridge if I did. But, someone with a little passion.
I don’t grab life by the balls ever. I mostly lick life’s balls. I might not even be at the balls yet, I might be somewhere farther back tonguing life’s ass. I guess then what I’d love is to meet someone who sucks life’s balls. One or two steps above me. Somebody with infectious ideas. Someone that doesn’t make my ideas seem trite or ludicrous.
A person capable of injecting me with a little life instead of accepting that I am this angry, stubborn asshole.
I pass a lot of judgment in my life. Only good could come from someone that yangs my yin and defuses some of my hostility without it being a personal attack on me. Not that I have specific instances in my head of attacks, I am just saying. It’s called conjecture.
I’ve had friendships like this in the past. They were fantastic. But, life changes. People move on. *I* have changed a lot, and not always for the better. I see that. I realize how negative I am and how incredibly tedious it is to deal with someone as negative as I am. Every negative word that comes out of my mouth piles onto my mountain of guilt and personal shame more and more. I am my own worst critic. Nothing anyone can throw at me can compare with how I berate myself in my head.
I suppose it’s just how the world goes. Someone always waits to rain on your parade. I love raining on other people’s all the time.
Karma.
Alas, I don’t know how to meet new people though. I’ve been over that a thousand times. Everyone already has some agenda. I might just be too old to make friends. Now the solitude I have loved and reveled in for the past three years has become a prison to me. My defenses, established to protect me from weak and dishonest people prevents me now from letting anyone in. I’ve probably let dozens of opportunities just like I am looking for slip through my fingers before. As if I expected it to have a different face or be more obvious.
Who really knows what I am saying. (That was rhetorical, hence it not ending in a question mark). Life goes on.
Anyway, that being said..
I keep going off on tangents about wanting to know more people. Again not meaning that the people I do know are insufficient. But, different kinds of people. I was thinking on the way home about how a lot of people I know don’t really have the same level of ludicrous passion about things I do. Maybe because they are sane and settled in their lives. Is it wrong that I am not? That I am always wanting something more, even if I do little to achieve more? I think not.
My thoughts were all prompted by an email I got earlier. I wonder why the people I come in contact with don’t want to just be impulsive. Do something completely different. Even if just for a bit. Me. Me of all people suggesting other people take on this attitude? Why, yes I am. I guess it all comes down to my selfishness. That I want to meet people like me.
Most people I know would think it’s crazy that I’d pay $170 for a single concert ticket to sit close to the stage and see an artist or group that’s fantastic (in my own mind). I think it’s insane not to. No matter the cost. $300 making a Halloween costume? Can someone do it for that little? Wake up at the ass-crack of dawn on the weekend just to be outside before the rest of the world? Sure. Two months meticulously inputting all your CDs into iTunes, exacting them down the the exact genre, searching for years that didn’t load, making sure all the remix names are in parenthesis... it’s not obsession, it’s precision.
I can’t even really say what I am trying to say here. My examples are boring.. so I’ll let Jack Kerouac say it for me...
”...the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes ’Awww!’”
I don’t claim (in all seriousness, super-genius comments aside) to be this ravenous, living being intent on sticking his fingers in everything. I am really rather set in my ways on a lot of things. Sometimes though when I do jump on one of my new wagons it’s often met with a lot of eye rolls and push offs. I’m just ”being me”... it’s just another "phase"... etc etc etc. My mom of all people used to do it to me all the time when I was a kid. Nothing I did was believable. I’d never stick with anything. I’d be bored with {insert fade} in a week. I despised her for always putting down things I was so into.
I am not trying to blame anyone for my issues, but it’s a let down when everyone around you thinks your ideas and fanaticisms are some fleeting passing of gas in the local universe. Even the people who sometimes seem initially excited suddenly fizzle out.
The hardest thing in the world for me to do is motivate myself. Especially when I realize the vast stupidity of some of the things I try achieving. I really wouldn’t mind once in a while someone backing me up and being equally excited about something. I am not saying someone that will kiss my ass, hang on my every word and jump off a bridge if I did. But, someone with a little passion.
I don’t grab life by the balls ever. I mostly lick life’s balls. I might not even be at the balls yet, I might be somewhere farther back tonguing life’s ass. I guess then what I’d love is to meet someone who sucks life’s balls. One or two steps above me. Somebody with infectious ideas. Someone that doesn’t make my ideas seem trite or ludicrous.
A person capable of injecting me with a little life instead of accepting that I am this angry, stubborn asshole.
I pass a lot of judgment in my life. Only good could come from someone that yangs my yin and defuses some of my hostility without it being a personal attack on me. Not that I have specific instances in my head of attacks, I am just saying. It’s called conjecture.
I’ve had friendships like this in the past. They were fantastic. But, life changes. People move on. *I* have changed a lot, and not always for the better. I see that. I realize how negative I am and how incredibly tedious it is to deal with someone as negative as I am. Every negative word that comes out of my mouth piles onto my mountain of guilt and personal shame more and more. I am my own worst critic. Nothing anyone can throw at me can compare with how I berate myself in my head.
I suppose it’s just how the world goes. Someone always waits to rain on your parade. I love raining on other people’s all the time.
Karma.
Alas, I don’t know how to meet new people though. I’ve been over that a thousand times. Everyone already has some agenda. I might just be too old to make friends. Now the solitude I have loved and reveled in for the past three years has become a prison to me. My defenses, established to protect me from weak and dishonest people prevents me now from letting anyone in. I’ve probably let dozens of opportunities just like I am looking for slip through my fingers before. As if I expected it to have a different face or be more obvious.
Who really knows what I am saying. (That was rhetorical, hence it not ending in a question mark). Life goes on.