Saturday, March 16, 2013

Peter Pissy Pants, Back To The Fuckers, Memories From Maggot Mountain

I don't really know what I am going to talk about in this post, I figured I would just sort of get going and see what happens. I am really good at ranting. At the moment I am just freezing in my dungeon listening to Jesu. I have grown to feel really shitty when I am here. It isn't comfortable, it is always cold and I am always aware of others being in my proximity. As always I can never seem to escape from myself or my surroundings. I believe that my life has gradually become a series of responsibilities that I don't want to be a part of and constant anxiety with brief  periods of solace. Well I guess this is growing up. Just 364 days until Mark Hoppus' birthday! My fondest memories will always be doing Blink 182 covers during the summer of 2010 and even the other 1 or 2 Wink 91 shows we did. People used to want to have fun with each other and would laugh and sing with gumdrop smiles. Boy that was dumb am I right? Way cooler to be pissants. Yeah, pissants for life. I love saying pissants. Just really simmers well.

The other day I also decided that I will always be the loser nerd, and everyone else will be a bully in my eyes. I believe that 98% of the population gains pleasure from antagonizing anyone and anything they can get away with doing so. Basically everyone is Biff from "Back To The Future." The plot is similar aside from George McFly jumping from a building at the end. And only after a posthumous examination do they realize that the fall did not kill him; he drowned mid fall choking on his own tears. Everyone is fucking mean. And their is no forgiveness left in anyone. I remember reading about an Amish community in one of my psychology books back in college. You may recall the story of a man breaking into an Amish schoolhouse and murdering 10 or 15 children and then committing suicide. The community did not seek vengeance or pity, they wished to help the wife of the murderer get through her own grief. Psychologically, it is believed that forgiveness is just as crucial, if not more essential for the person doing the forgiving than it is for the person seeking redemption for their misdeeds. Now mind you, I think a lot of this "forgiveness" was based primarily on religious dogma and the fear that an invisible man would burn them with cigarettes, but the message is still clear. I think we all need to learn when to let things go. I have fucked up a lot in the past as we all have, and I am still working on forgiving others and forgiving myself. But it's also important to know that just because you forgive someone doesn't mean all is forgotten. Some people are just not meant to be in our lives. And that is one of the hardest lessons I have had to learn. Some people are poison for us, and there is something inside ourselves that causes harm towards others whether the intention was there or not. So I try to nurture the strong relationships I have, (When not spiraling into a pit of solitude and alienation,) and I try to stomp out the ones that fuck me up in the end.

There has been way too much deep-ass shit on here lately. I think regimental living causes the section of my brain that makes poo-poo jokes shrink. Let me think, something funny...hmm...Oh wait here's something. I will regale you with a tale from my youth. It was 2006, the nation was facing the launch of Twitter and Paul McCartney turned 64 after writing "When I'm Sixty-Four" 48 years earlier. I started dating my first girlfriend ever on my 18th birthday which is December 23rd for anyone who doesn't know. I was so excited and hopeful towards the future. My dog Chance had been having some health problems and we assumed she may have had a stroke. She couldn't walk and could only lay on her side and slowly spin in circles. She had been through similar episodes but was able to recover in the past. I came home after a party I had with some friends, (back when I had those.) She had somehow crawled out of her house and was spinning in the mud and rain. I had to set some things down inside so I said aloud, "I will be right back Chance." I ran upstairs and ran back outside. I kneeled down and put my arms under her in order to lift her up and I realized she was gone. I sat in the rain with her in my arms for a moment, then wrapped her in a blanket and put her back in her house for the last time. That night the rain froze so the ground was too hard to dig. We ended up burying her Christmas morning. Wait, I just realized, this story isn't funny at all. Kind of emotionally scarring actually. One could argue all my intimacy issues are tied directly to this moment. Geez, my bad. 

No comments:

Post a Comment