Monthly Archives: May 2013

Symbols

It’s kinda fun to sit here and wait for the downpour. Sitting here full of anticipation to write and not really know where it’s going to go feels so full of potential. Potential is such a stupid term of endearment though. I just know that it needs to go somewhere, anywhere, and it will. It just does.

A day as beautiful as today happens less occasionally than it should. Really, days as beautiful as today could be everyday given the right frame of reference. I know that, but deep down I don’t believe it. There is too much doubt in my life for that type of surrender.

Every avenue I look down at this point feels like the paramount of cliche. Who am I, what am I doing and hoping to achieve, why why why why why why off to infinity. It doesn’t matter. It does matter. Everything and nothing is important based on what I dictate. Bring on the ranty existential bullshit that makes up around 99/100 of the content of this blog, and frame it cleverly so you’ll feel like you thought about these things in a measured fashion. Be positive, be negative, just throw out the presentable fashion of you that you want to come through with your writing voice.

This isn’t a true journal and never will be. I am not free to write whatever I want because of self-imposed limitations in my belief of this being a public forum, no matter how limited that public may seem. A true journal has no filters and I come here because operating within limits is where I think true creativity blooms. I like to think that, but mostly  I just want to rant.

Apparently I want something more than this medium can provide, and I need to take some time to find it. It’s everywhere and nowhere, and I realize that honest self-reflection far outweighs a well-written piece.

Outside of my binary star, I see people desperately seeking connection and achieving it because they will it into existence. So much of it brought into reality through sheer force of will, where the stakes seem immeasurably high. I see and try to wrap my brain around ideas again and again with little to win. I see until feel numb, and can’t process anything.

I gaze on passively, and listen.

I don’t want to post here anymore.

Why Bother

I am not thrilled to be here out of spite and rage, especially since it’s been awhile since I’ve been here period. I come here to write things that have some effect on me as a person though, and that really just happens less and less. Mostly due to cynicism, I believe.

Today’s episode encapsulates the life of ideas brought out by the petty and trivial tasks of everyday life. In this case, the office breakroom. One of my co-workers sent out a ranty email about people not doing their dishes (subject line: PLEASE GET YOUR DIRTY DISHES OUT OF THE SINK-  NOW!!!).

I know this and refrigerator cleanliness are always a bone of contention in any shared space. What bugged me about this rant though is that as the last person out of here on most nights, I have been doing all said dishes, putting them away, and cleaning the breakroom before I leave. As far as I can tell my reasoning is that it takes 10 minutes, it makes me feel better about the place I work at, and nagging everyone all the time is way more work than that ten minutes.

I never really care too much about doing a little extra janitorial work, but it made me feel slighted that someone can just up and spew all this outrage without having put in any of the time. They have no entitlement to be so mad about something they do so little to help out with.

There were many moments to bring it up as the person kept talking about it throughout my shift, but I kept my mouth shut, because the deep down feeling was I really didn’t care that much.

I played out a few possible scenarios of how the talk would have gone (when you work with people awhile, this isn’t too tall of an order) and all I could see was me trying to express outrage, and at best it being deflected onto others, at worst onto me. Then the depressing core of the idea appeared before me:

You don’t care what I think as much as I don’t care what you think.

In the end there would have been some words tossed out, a few “All I’m trying to say is…”, and hammered out misunderstandings, real or imagined. And absolutely nothing would have been accomplished, besides wasting some time and some useless recognition for what i do by cleaning up a little.

There is a sense of freedom in this idea though, a sense of letting go. At the same time it’s one of the most cynical thoughts I’ve had in a long time. So many things are not worth discussing with others due to this idea, and the people you do discuss things with are just people you agree with (though I know that’s an over simplification). There is a major caveat to this idea though. I don’t respect this person. That makes all the difference.

Things can just go on as they always have. They can rail on about the injustices in our inconsequential little bubble, and I’ll just go do the dishes because I enjoy the sense of accomplishment.