May is the cruelest month, or so I just found out. Nothing disastrous happened; it was just long, slow, and shitty. I’ve often said that for me, time moves slower the more fun I’m having. That’s true, but lately, the days have started to blur together. Since I don’t work a nine-to-five, Monday-through-Friday job, I have almost no reason to know when the weekend is coming and when it isn’t (besides keeping track of train schedules). I need more going on in my life, and I’m not talking about people asking me if I’m okay. I don’t need anyone’s pity. I just need them to listen. I’ll figure the rest out by myself.
I haven’t seen a movie in a while (not in theaters, anyway). I heard Godzilla was okay and that X-Men was pretty good, but there’s nothing that motivates me to rush right out to see it. It’s hard to get motivated unless you have something to look forward to*. Maybe I should see concerts more often. I haven’t been to one since They Might Be Giants back in August, and that was the first time I’d seen a band that one of my friends wasn’t in in years. The local music scene where I live is pretty good. Maybe I should look into that. Of course, I’ll be going alone, but I’m pretty used to that by now.
(Off-topic, but this article reminds me of my assistant manager. I have an obsessive need to Myers-Briggs everybody I know. Retail, by nature, tends to attract ambitious, outgoing, rational and dedicated people, so it’s rather fitting. Meanwhile, I’m just over here with my head in the clouds and some chaotically insane dreams.)
When I was in elementary school, some friends and I decided to enter a science fair. I tried to design a machine that would open doors for handicapped people, but looking back, I can see how ungainly and impractical it was. Instead, we built bottle rockets, then filled them up with varying amounts of water to determine what air-to-propellant ratio would produce the most lift. (Our results: 25% water, 75% air.) It was fun. What’s the adult version of that?
My fifth grade teacher was the kind of guy who was perfectly fine with people thinking outside the box and being creative so long as he got to have final say. At one point, he called into a local radio station and asked them to play a country song he liked just because he wanted us to hear it. Then we turned on the radio and heard ourselves greeting the host, followed by the song. I have to admit that’s pretty cool. But more than once, he and I butted heads because I did something unexpected (but not expressly forbidden) that he considered cheating. I’m sorry, but that’s just fucking lazy. I followed the rules, more or less. It’s not my fault that I found a loophole. In some cases, it didn’t even occur to me that what I was doing would be considered out of bounds, anyway, as I was still technically doing what had been asked of me. But in his eyes, I was using the letter of the law to defeat the spirit, and that justified a whole lot of self-righteousness and condescension. His praise on my report card, however, was effusive.
I find myself slipping more and more into existential negativity these days. I hate that feeling. You know, the whole “We’re all going to die anyway, so what’s the point?” kind of thinking that is totally unproductive, but impossible to stop yourself from doing. Funny thing is, death doesn’t scare me as much as you might think. I don’t relish the thought of getting hit by a bus or wasting away in a hospital bed surrounded by friends and family, but as far as I’m concerned, the atheistic idea that it’s nothing more than an eternity of nothingness seems almost simplistic. I am not a believer. Organized religion, in whatever form, has always struck me as little more than a fairy tale. I’m not an agnostic either, because I really don’t see the point in just saying “I don’t know” and leaving it at that. Consciousness is besides the point (and not really an either/or thing to begin with). You can have an idea of God that is as vague and generalized as you like (“God is love”, “God is the universe”), just don’t act as if the only thing that gives this life meaning is the thought of an afterlife. There is so much more to the universe than that.
A lot of the stuff I write on this blog is stuff that’s been floating around for a while. The titles in particular frequently have little to nothing to do with the content. It’s just a combination of words I heard somewhere that I liked, usually. This is a blog, after all. It doesn’t have to make sense.
It helps to have a bit of levity.
*Okay, so the advance reviews for Edge of Tomorrow are pretty positive. We’ll see how that one turns out.