Today's Thought

Not being rich isn't always the problem. Lusting after things that cost too much money is the problem.

Lord Of The Polka

I never did feel right calling Al Yankovic "Weird Al". I know it's the name everyone has always known him by, but it never felt appropriate to me. I don't think of Al as being "weird". I always just thought of him as someone I could relate to. Genius... clever... extremely talented... but not so weird. He's just a cool guy with a great sense of humor. And he's a hero of mine.

People continuing to obsess over the daily routines of British royals and the talentless Kardashians? Now that's fucking weird.

Ghost

I am a fraud. I'm not the person you think I am.

I'm not even the person I think I am. I'm something else. I just hope I can figure out what that is, because so far, there's a black hole where my heart should be. It's trying to destroy everything.

Today's Quote

"If you're paralyzed by a voice in your head, it's the standing still that should be scaring you instead."

--- Ben Folds

Living Outside Societal Tradition

Feeling lost; feeling somehow like I'm not alive. It's clear and all too obvious that there's something wrong with me; that I need a therapist as soon as possible. I've checked into it... Still no luck. I have no clue where to start or who to see. If I'm not being put on a waiting list of "unknown" length, I'm busy worrying whether or not someone will even accept my insurance. Or will I have to drain my tiny savings account again just to try and find someone who might be able to show me a path to a place where I can finally escape my torment?

I've wasted my life trying to not let people down. I've thrown it all away trying to live up to their expectations; and because I have a fucked-up need for everyone to like me... or at least not think I'm a dick.

I've become as cold and dead on the inside as I've felt on the outside for decades. More and more, I'm fed up with the idea of birthdays. It's too much for me to try and remember anymore. I can't keep up. I've always felt cards are bullshit; more insincere than ignoring the day completely. At least my forgetfulness is sincere. The lame, generic words written by some failed novelist are not. And gifts? What the fuck kind of twisted, egomaniacal person actually expects gifts from others? Isn't just being alive to see another year gift enough? If there's something you want that badly, just open up your wallet and pay for it yourself, you materialistic douche. Let the people you claim to care about do things more productive in their lives. Birthdays mean nothing. Old is a state of mind.

Another thing that's been pissing me off... What is this need people have to post notes on Facebook about their anniversaries? It's their passive-aggressive way to plead for comments of: "Oh, you're such a beautiful couple!", etc, etc, etc... It's just a desperate cry for attention. Plus, they want others to be envious. They honestly do. Especially the people who have no one. This is who these posts hurt the most. But they will never care... Not as long as they get a couple of "likes".

Oh, and I don't care about your kids. There, I said it. And for the record, yes, I do feel better. You might as well have posted pictures of random people you met on the street that day. I'd hold the same level of interest. "Oh, you don't have kids. When you do, you'll understand.", they'd say. I say I will never have kids, so this conversation is pointless. ... And I still don't care about your precious offspring. Not until they do something worth caring about.

I know, there's something wrong with my brain. I don't know why, or when it was damaged. I only know that it was. And I suppose this is my desperate cry.

The truth is, I'm losing touch with knowing the person I actually am. I can be many people in the course of a day, and I don't know who the real one is anymore. Then again, I often feel like none of them are real at all; that I only continue pretending my way through life, day after day. Perhaps someday I can finally discover who I am. This is my hope. Until then, it only means that nobody else in this world can ever know.

Today's Thought

Talking is pointless in a world where no one listens.

Solitary

Feeling broken; alone; useless. It's hard to feel anything but, at times. It didn't always used to be this way. Or maybe it did. I just don't know anymore. In my youth, I was never needed. I'd walk home from school - where I would spend the vast majority of my day talking to no one - and catch a couple of reruns of some random show... maybe "Who's The Boss?"... maybe "Star Trek: The Next Generation". At just after five, Mom and Dad would get home. Mom would be in a horrible mood every day, without fail, and spend the next hour or so in the kitchen preparing dinner for all of us. Dad would immediately retreat to the TV room every evening after work to play his guitar. It was never admitted, but I'm convinced a big part of this is because he just wanted to avoid Mom's I-haven't-eaten-all-day-and-now-I'm-pissed-at-the-whole-world wrath. He'd just hole-up in the TV room and crank whichever part of whichever song he was learning how to play that day. And since he was practicing, he'd usually put the song part on loop, playing it over and over... sometimes for hours at a time. This, of course, not only annoyed me, but also sent Mom into a deeper fury night after night. She'd stomp angrily down the hall, swing open the TV room door and yell at him to turn the music down... or off altogether. Then she'd huff and stomp back upstairs in a foul mood. This was routinely followed by Dad mumbling something like "bitch" to himself and continuing to play his music... if not louder now.

To avoid this embarrassing circus of a family life, I would spend as much time as I could in the peace of my own room. My room being next to the TV room with all of the music, it wasn't always quiet, but at least it was mine. I mostly just tried to lose myself in video games. They seemed to take me away from all of the drama I wanted nothing to do with. This domestic dynamic seemed to happen nightly. For years. It was like clockwork. And this is what was put into my head. This is what I assumed marriage was; two people who clearly made each other miserable and couldn't stand being around each other. Somehow, I had been relegated to a bargaining chip; a common ground between two factions at war. It might have been easier with the understanding and support of a sibling, but of course that was never in the cards for me. Instead, I would have to deal with the guilt of being the burden of both parties alone. If not for me, they could have just split and easily both gone on to find other partners who actually made them happy. But there I would continue to be... fucking up everything as usual.

Skip ahead a couple of decades...

Here I still am. Continuing to feel like a complete fuck-up. Continuing to feel like everything is my fault. I still feel alone. I still feel like I'm not needed. I still feel like I'm just in the way.

Sometimes I wonder if these are the only things I can feel anymore.