The weather has been excellent this week. It's finally warm enough and not-yet-so-humid that I'm able to leave the windows open all day and night. Earlier, I did some major spring cleaning and felt like shit about how much junk gradually accumulated in my apartment over winter. I never let it get bad enough to be categorized as trap-house-chic but leaving dishes in the sink overnight and leaving boxes on the floor because I'm too lazy to move them is just bad. Winter has that affect on me. I guess the pros call that Seasonal Affective Disorder, but I won't because I developed an acute allergy to mental bullshit after having been stupid/desperate enough to allow myself to be examined by a psychiatrist or two who were only too quick to pigeonhole me into the most convenient DSM category and push pills on me. That's rich, huh? You go to a mental doc hoping for some understanding only to find out they're exactly the same mentality as the rest of this fucked-up, on-demand society. No fucking patience for anything. That was years ago. I haven't subjected myself to a shrink since, and have been avoiding most medical professionals except for my dentist who I respect greatly for his work ethic, even though he gives off the vibe of someone who cheats on his wife with one of the pretty dental assistants. I noticed they stopped asking me if I've been flossing ever since I have been flossing daily. I guess it shows. Ah, but I'm rambling now.
So here I found myself today, taking a pensive walk around town. I am thankfully in no need of shrinks, after many years of journeying (mostly inwards, but a bit of outwards journeying too), I know fully who I am, who I want to be and [for the most part] what I want to get from life. It's still fun to have time to think, though. So I went for a walk and I thought, and in thinking I sudden came to the realization that I have no respect for any of the friends I have left. Thinking about it, I can't imagine they ever had respect for me. I certainly didn't respect myself, which is a major part of the reason I struggled so hard to push through setbacks in the past.
What to do now? I can't very well call them my friends if I don't respect them. Well, that's alright. I'm pretty good at alienating people. I didn't spend years in corporate for nothing, now I can be as ruthless as the best of 'em. I can give you some heartwarming bullshit farewell food-for-thought complete with a smile and handshake while steering you out the door with the other hand. Most people don't even realize what happened until they're halfway across the parking lot. What a dichotomy, to abhor a society that rewards that type of behaviour, and also revel in it because it gives me the only chance I get to really fuck with the people who support the status quo by consigning themselves to wage slavery to pay debts they took on to buy shit they don't need to impress people they don't care about, blah blah blah.
There was a panhandler walking through rush hour traffic on my way home. I was in my glorious shitbox, someone next to me was in a gaudy brand-new Benz SUV. Nine times out of ten when I look over, it's some bimbo trophy wife commanding these tank-envy monstrosities. I have too much respect for smart, accomplished women to assume they would ever squander their own cash on such a thing, so trophy wife is the conclusion I reach. Either way, it was the typical $80-120k extravagance ($65k buys you the bare chassis) that people with “more money than brains” love. I guess some people feel entitled to a $100k joyride with the heated leather seat that some nerd like me was suckered into programming to give the driver a shiatsu ass massage so their bum doesn't numb along the otherwise bum-numbingly long commute to work.
Of course, I don't even have a buck to give the guy (I rarely use cash), and if he came close enough I was ready to give him the ol' “look at my car, do I look like I even have a fuck to give?” spiel. No surprise, he loitered for a good minute next to the Benz holding out his cardboard sign. Guess who doesn't give a fuck? Not me, not the Benz bimbo, and even the panhandler looked like he really couldn't care less. We're all becoming victims of apathy. I read a great quote the other day:
- Alexander Fraser Tytler, Lord Woodhouselee
I guess that guy knew what was up. We're past our best-before date and still haven't figured it out.
So here I found myself today, taking a pensive walk around town. I am thankfully in no need of shrinks, after many years of journeying (mostly inwards, but a bit of outwards journeying too), I know fully who I am, who I want to be and [for the most part] what I want to get from life. It's still fun to have time to think, though. So I went for a walk and I thought, and in thinking I sudden came to the realization that I have no respect for any of the friends I have left. Thinking about it, I can't imagine they ever had respect for me. I certainly didn't respect myself, which is a major part of the reason I struggled so hard to push through setbacks in the past.
What to do now? I can't very well call them my friends if I don't respect them. Well, that's alright. I'm pretty good at alienating people. I didn't spend years in corporate for nothing, now I can be as ruthless as the best of 'em. I can give you some heartwarming bullshit farewell food-for-thought complete with a smile and handshake while steering you out the door with the other hand. Most people don't even realize what happened until they're halfway across the parking lot. What a dichotomy, to abhor a society that rewards that type of behaviour, and also revel in it because it gives me the only chance I get to really fuck with the people who support the status quo by consigning themselves to wage slavery to pay debts they took on to buy shit they don't need to impress people they don't care about, blah blah blah.
There was a panhandler walking through rush hour traffic on my way home. I was in my glorious shitbox, someone next to me was in a gaudy brand-new Benz SUV. Nine times out of ten when I look over, it's some bimbo trophy wife commanding these tank-envy monstrosities. I have too much respect for smart, accomplished women to assume they would ever squander their own cash on such a thing, so trophy wife is the conclusion I reach. Either way, it was the typical $80-120k extravagance ($65k buys you the bare chassis) that people with “more money than brains” love. I guess some people feel entitled to a $100k joyride with the heated leather seat that some nerd like me was suckered into programming to give the driver a shiatsu ass massage so their bum doesn't numb along the otherwise bum-numbingly long commute to work.
Of course, I don't even have a buck to give the guy (I rarely use cash), and if he came close enough I was ready to give him the ol' “look at my car, do I look like I even have a fuck to give?” spiel. No surprise, he loitered for a good minute next to the Benz holding out his cardboard sign. Guess who doesn't give a fuck? Not me, not the Benz bimbo, and even the panhandler looked like he really couldn't care less. We're all becoming victims of apathy. I read a great quote the other day:
The average age of the world's greatest civilisations from the beginning of history has been about 200 years. During those 200 years, these nations always progressed through the following sequence: From bondage to spiritual faith; From spiritual faith to great courage; From courage to liberty; From liberty to abundance; From abundance to selfishness; From selfishness to complacency; From complacency to apathy; From apathy to dependence; From dependence back into bondage.
- Alexander Fraser Tytler, Lord Woodhouselee
I guess that guy knew what was up. We're past our best-before date and still haven't figured it out.
