hildeguardog's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 4 AM My brain has been a mix of contradictions and paranoia. I want to be healthy, and yet I don't particularly want to be alive; I want to be smart, and yet I see much more kinship in being anti-intellectual; I maintain a diet of diverse literature and I shun television shows, and yet I have plenty of people to talk with about shows and none to talk books; I hate my job, and yet I can think of no job more suitable. And paranoia. I find myself at once completely antisocial, and hyper-social. I usually take the freight elevator or stairs to avoid human connection, and yet the cute girls in the building all have dogs and only take the freight elevator, and I'd rather avoid them over anybody else, but I don't always feel up to jogging down twelve flights of stairs. I work on the first floor of the building in which I kind of live. Things haven't yet been ironed out. Most of my clothes are at my mom's place. Libby had most of my favorite books. I've donated most of the ones I didn't absolutely want, and I've downsized a bit on furniture (mostly just a giant bookshelf). My head is often in this apartment and at my mom's place. I have a fear of making wrong decisions, especially when they seem big and impactful. I also have a fear of wasting another's time. These are at constant odds because I don't currently know the right answer. Every nice night with Lady is skewed by a night of pent-up aggression let loose--by me or her. Last weekend: we decided to go camping. Get away to Wisconsin for the night. Just the two of us. Easy, fun, secluded. Maybe she had too many beers, but the evening devolved into doubt and harsh words. I think I'm becoming my dad, but also my mom. And they are two of the most opposite white people imaginable. I guess my life boils down to this: if my entire immediate family jumped off a cliff, I would absolutely follow. No hesitation. But they're still here, and so I must bear witness to this world that makes no That's a lie. The world makes sense, almost completely. I don't know all the laws of physics or economy or... anything. I have a cursory understanding of lots and lots of things, and a deep understanding of very few things. Good People spare some change and donate some canned foods and send some cash to Africa. These actions enable unsustainable lifestyles just enough so as to keep people living them. Bad People manipulate others (well, everyone manipulates others, but we'll stick to generalities) for personal benefit. But aren't Bad People on to something? Wild animals aren't altruistic--what lion is going to share a downed gazelle with some lion outside its pride? We are all one. Yes. Totally. Biologically. But why should we help one another? Because we live in a system that's designed to fuck some people over, instead of a system where everyone has as big of a shot as their ability affords? This will be my manic, incoherent post. 7:40 p.m. - Thursday, Oct. 27, 2016 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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