Got another set of labs back, looked at them for five minutes, cursed and left the house.
It was me and Johnny walking with no destination in mind but a thought that I would go until I dropped.
Lightning flew across the night, fitting for the music and mood. I was fed up with people who fail to hold up their end of the deal and furious about other things.
We call it the joy of reliving teen life at a hair short of 50.
Much of it was frustration about things I cannot control and that which I can. Or more accurately frustration with a failure to hit a standard.
The thing is if you tried to speak to me with the sort of edge in my internal monologue I might rip off both of your arms and alternate beating you silly.
But I can’t do that to myself so I had to just accept my own tongue lashing.
Sometimes you have to draw a line in your own sandbox and do what is required not to cross it.
Wipe My Memory Banks Clean
People like to say they would never live their life differently and that it was all worth it because they wouldn’t be who they are if they didn’t.
Most of the time I just nod my head and smile when people say it because it serves no purpose to shake my head and disagree…but I often do.
I haven’t many regrets but those I do are big and there are moments where I wonder if it would be easier and smarter to wipe my memory banks clean.
Just wipe it all out and start fresh.
Why do I need to remember those moments and those people.
What purpose is served by saying that I survived every bad day and that odds are I will survive the next.
Isn’t that how we rationalize our not having pulled ourselves out of the stupid choices and decisions we have made.
Doesn’t it provide us with an excuse to say the hell we put ourselves through wasn’t so bad because we learned from it.
Do I really have to stick my arm in the fire until it shrivels up to know that fire burns.
It might explain why so many fools still pretend that Dumb Donnie Divisive isn’t really bad.
They like to pretend that his policies aren’t destructive to many and self serving to few by suggesting criticism is fake or that some actions aren’t deserving of outrage.
Well, if I get into the habit of cutting myself with a razor I hope to admit that I am doing it because I want to and not because I am trying to spite others who proved me wrong.
There are people on Facebook who are Facebook friends who never engage or interact with me in any way.
Once upon a time we worked or went to school together but those days are long ago.
Now we are just digital blips on a screen that occasionally pass each other, Facebook ghosts. Sometimes I wonder if they ever think or notice the lack of engagement between us.
Do they care? Does it matter that there is nothing? If I died would they notice and how long would it take before they realized I was gone?
Sometimes I think about unfriending them just to see if they ever reach out to ask why or what happened.
I suppose it is tied into my being a guy who tests his limits and presses buttons.
Part of me wonders if I would notice if they were gone.
Maybe it is because when dad got real sick I started hearing from lots of people.
When he died a bunch stopped what they were doing and were very active in checking on me so it made it very noticeable who spoke up and who didn’t.
Maybe this is natural irritation and anger or maybe it is grief.
I expected better and I am disappointed.
But then again I received some very pleasant surprises from people too.
Guess I ought to stop the jibber-jabber and try to get prepared for bed.
Apparently I am going to have to make a more significant effort to stop the ship from hitting the rocks. I’ll make it happen but damn if it isn’t part of why I am spitting blood.