WEARINESS...

     I'm weary.

     There's a certain heaviness that comes with knowing your suffering is pointless.

     Now, I want to be clear. I'm not suffering in any physical sense. My body, its organs and limbs, are doing quite well for themselves. I've managed to take good care of myself and avoid catastrophe. But my mind...my mind is weary. I don't want to do this anymore...this purposeless of being...this monotony.

     I don't like working for a living. It sucks. I never wanted my life to be defined by how I earned money. I didn't want my life defined by my job but my job most certainly defines my life. I work overnights and I've worked overnights since 2001. I thus keep odd hours and on top of that my job requires me to work weekends...all of them. My job pays me enough to survive but not enough to live. To make ends meet I cannot drive. I can't afford the car payments, the car insurance, and gas & miscellaneous expenses associated with car ownership. You can imagine how difficult this makes it to meet girls. How difficult you (didn't) ask? I went on my first date when I was 33 years old. My job is not responsible for all of that...but it is responsible for enough.

     Maybe things will get better... - something I've said for many years, but - ...I'm starting to see a girl at a time every now and again. There's definite improvement over the nearly 20 years of nothing. It's heartening to find girls who will give me a chance despite knowing the difficulties I enter in on...even if the majority of them have been one-date-wonders. Still...I'm weary.

     I don't want to work anymore. Not just my current job but any job. I wish I could just stop but the bills won't stop just because I want to. It's frustrating but it's a frustration I feel I could endure if I only had a reason to endure it. I'm not enough. My selfish will to live means less and less to me each day. The only official thing I have to look forward to is New Horizons reaching Pluto in July 2015. I do want to see what this world looks like after all these years. That date is fast approaching and then what?

    I feel like if I had a girlfriend or a wife (as I have wanted one since I was 24) and/or a child to raise, I feel I could muster the requisite strength to endure the monotony, to endure the purposeless because I would thus have a purpose. My suffering...my anguish?...it could be rationalized.

    I don't like having these fantasies but I will admit one of my darker ones today. Maybe doing so semi-publicly will prove cathartic. I'm not an immediate suicide risk and the reason for that is simple: I've been diligent in saving my money for old age though I've been able to save far less since moving out. The inheritance I received from my father was, in the beginning, less than a third of my net worth. Now it is possibly over half thanks to a rising stock market. Still, it's blood money so I don't want to spend any of it except in my old age. Killing myself would mean leaving all that money behind unused.

      What a waste...

      What I daydream about when I'm weary is cashing out my IRAs and summing it up with my savings to see what I've got. I keep detailed financial records so I know how much my life costs. Presently, it's just under $20,000 a year. I think my financial happiness would peak at around $30,000 a year take-home pay (I really could give less than a fuck about gross pay...if I don't see it, I didn't earn it so stop using my gross as a basis for aid calculation). I could be happy on the $20,000 if my rent were halved but that won't happen unless I get a girl to move in with me and just getting a girlfriend has proven ridiculously difficult.

      But that would be nice...a girlfriend who loves me enough and whom I love enough to want to live together and pool expenses in preparation for marriage. That'd be the best thing that could happen to me both as a human being and financially...someone to share the burden-of-living with. Hell, at this point I would take a fucking cat but my apartment strictly forbids pet ownership and there isn't another affordable complex within walking distance of work...additional sorrow...

      My net worth is around $200,000. I don't know what the tax penalty would be if I cashed out all the IRAs I have but even if it was half, and I highly doubt that, I'd still have a minimum of five years worth of money...and if interest rates would ever rise, up to seven.

      That's some fantasy. Five years of freedom. The only problem is when the money would run out I know I would not have the courage to kill myself at the end. I'd be a coward and run...or desperately get a job to keep alive, however miserably...but those five years...they could be good ones. Five years to do whatever the fuck I want. I'd be like one of those Inca sacrifices (except they only got one year...I'd get five).

      It bothers me because usually I can talk myself out of these fantasies within a few hours. I'm usually just cranky. But this one has lasted a full week and as far as I know will continue tomorrow. I blame my job and by extension myself for not getting out of it while I still could. Almost thirteen years I've put in there. What pisses me off is how the words don't match the deeds. For my entire tenure there I've been told what a good and dutiful employee I've been. I've been given numerous awards in recognition of that. What have I wanted in return? Full time. That's it. Full time. I've been bidding for ten years and still have not gotten it. In fact, in all my years there I have not known anyone to have gotten full time. How shitty of the store. The store doesn't give full time...that's basically what I'm told...yet they have to present bid sheets every six months (which they make a pain in the ass to get). It feels so fraudulent. If they don't give full time and only offer it to satisfy some union demand...it just feels wrong. Like holding a contest but never declaring a winner.

     Additionally, despite my glowing reviews, I have been given a pay cut. For the past year I've consistently had about 2 hours cut from my schedule each week. It's not even something I can bump for. It's a very calculated move on my employer's part and it's costing me about $1000 in lost income over the course of a year. My income has been stagnant or falling since 2008. I don't feel like a valued employee...I feel like an unwanted expense.
 
     Word-deed mismatch. I would cry out that I feel like I've earned a little respect from the store but then I feel like I would be met with the same words Lyta Alexander got when confronting Ulkesh over the same idea..."Respect...from whom?"
 
     Hell, I'd even settle for "full-time lite". I'm old school. A full time job to me is a 40 hour workweek. Sundays are paid at time-and-a-half and Sundays are separate from regular pay. The rule for part time is less than 29 non-Sunday hours a week (5 weeks or more above 29 equals automatic full time but my store is just as diligent about preventing that as they are at denying full time status to begin with). But anyway, it's workable within the system. 28 non-Sunday hours plus 8 Sunday hours straightens out to 40 hours of pay. Full time with the status of part-time...but I can't even get that. My historical average was 27.5 + 7.5 which, quite frankly is close enough but nowadays it has been averaging 26.75 + 6.75 which hurts, albeit slowly. It's like death from a thousand small cuts. My budget is already tight as is. I already endure a cold apartment in the Winter (I keep it at 60 degrees and dress warmly...I only turn it up to 72 degrees when I know I'm having company. I have not had company in over a month) and a hot apartment in the Summer (I only turn the air conditioner on when my apartment's temperature rises above 90 degrees and I'm off work or when I have company [see Winter]. In the meantime I sweat it out sitting around in my underwear) so I've already squeezed what savings I can from my electric bill. The only room left for cuts is cable and food.

    I know cable seems like an obvious luxury to eliminate and while I have no problem with that conceptually, I am trying to date girls. It's already bad enough that I work weekends, overnights, and can't drive. Must I be without entertainment capabilities as well? How much poverty must I ask a potential girlfriend to endure? But it will go if it gets difficult since I'm already stretched thin enough as is.

     I'm sure I'll get over this but it's been a hard week. It's all psychological...it's always been psychological. I've been blessed with a healthy body but cursed with a poisoned mind...

     I don't think my problems are as big as I imagine them to be. I can't imagine there aren't throngs of people who'd happily trade their problems for mine. I hate that I even consider that. I want to be selfish at times. I want it to be about me sometimes. Stupid brain...

     I wish I were less lonely. I've never been truly alone before. There's always been someone living with me even if we largely ignored one and other. It's been just me for 2½ years now. It's soul-crushing. Someone to pass the time with...someone I could hold and who would hold me...that would be nice. It would be nice to have some of the voids in my soul filled with joy and comfort. Definitely nice...

THINGS CHANGE...

     It has come to my attention lately that the DSM-5, released just this year, has officially come to the conclusion that transgenderism (or gender dysphoria), in the light of new medical and psychological evidence, shall no longer be classified as a mental disorder.

     I like to think of myself as a scientist and one of the things that comes with being a scientist (as a philosophy since I am not employed as one in any field) is that things held true today may be overturned by new evidence in the future. This is one of those things.

     Seeing as how I am neither a doctor nor have I ever been trained as one, I readily accept this change even if it may take some time getting used to because who am I to judge the consensus of hundreds, if not thousands, of medical professionals with far greater knowledge of the subject of human psychology and development? I would think it absurd to do so.

     I would have to hand in my scientist card if I were to continue to hold a belief found to be no longer consistent with present knowledge and I shan't be doing that.

     As such, I have vocalized some opinions here on this blog that I would now, in light of this new knowledge, like to take back. I apologize for ever having held those opinions and I will take the time to educate myself as opportunity permits. Henceforth, I will stand against ignorant claims made against the transgendered to the best of my abilities. This does not mean you will see me at protests and whatnot but it does mean I will no longer stand with the "it's a mental disorder" crowd.

      I neither seek nor require the forgiveness of anyone whom I have offended with my prior stated views in this blog. I do this for myself but I choose to let the random happen upon to this blog know that the view of transgenderism being a mental disorder is no longer one I hold.

      I suspect it will take some time to clear from my head thoughts I've held in the past but that is the goal. Out with the old knowledge, in with the new!

THE PANIC OF HAPPINESS...

     I was rereading (after having been reminded of it) this Cracked article by John Cheese on the "5 Stupidest Habits You Develop Growing Up Poor" and the thought just occurred to me...I want to spend any and all happiness I acquire right goddamned now!

     In the article Mr. Cheese says:

When a windfall check is dropped in your lap, you don't know how to handle it. Instead of thinking, "This will cover our rent and bills for half a year," you immediately jump to all the things you've been meaning to get, but couldn't afford on your regular income. If you don't buy it right now, you know that the money will slowly bleed away to everyday life over the course of the next few months, leaving you with nothing to show for it. Don't misunderstand me here, it's never a "greed" thing. It's a panic thing. "We have to spend this before it disappears."

     I think that's how I've come to look at my happiness too. I'm usually feeling anywhere from neutral to lonely so when a windfall opportunity for happiness gets dropped on my figurative lap, I feel the same way about it. I don't want to ration it or save it for the future because even though I know that would be a good idea and that I will surely need this happiness then, I'm afraid it will be bled out by my life's everyday circumstances before I ever get a chance to properly experience it.

     What ends up happening is my normally patient self gets overwhelmed by this desire to spend my happiness right fucking now and that usually results in that opportunity being squandered. It sucks and I really don't know how to not do that.

      I've been fortunate these past two weeks. I've met a girl at work - a customer of mine. We've been talking. We've even met up already. I want to see her, like, all the time. I want to rush through the opening stages of this potential relationship to get to the middle part already: I want the foundation already laid. That part where we already know we like each other and already know we want to be together...that part where we're building on that foundation.

       I hate being this impatient and wanting to move things along even more rapidly than I am comfortable with. I hate what it reveals about me and what it suggests about me. But I also don't want to fuck it up, so I'm being patient...

SOMETHING OVERLOOKED BY EVOLUTION...

     There are certain kinds of pains I just don't understand and by not understanding I mean, why do they hurt so much when nothing can be done about them?

     Take tooth pain for example. Pretty much any pain involving the mouth, like abscesses, is dreadfully bad. We've only had anything resembling modern dentistry for, at best, a few hundred years. But we've been anatomically human for almost 200,000 years. Why should tooth pain be quite so exquisite? What's the purpose of it? Sure, something could be done about it now...but what about then?

     And then you have other types of pain that seem to serve no purpose as nothing can be done about it like kidney stones, splinters, broken bones, and giving birth.

     Pain should have a purpose. It should be there to remind you that what you're doing is damaging or potentially so. It's good that fire feels hot because you don't want to be exposed to it. It's good that ice feels cold for the same reason. The initial pain of a splinter is fine. It teaches you to be careful but the continued pain that is felt until you or your body can push it out is just overkill.
      Broken bone pain seems unnecessary too. Yes, nowadays we have casts and splints but what about when you broke your leg back in prehistoric times? You were tiger food now and all the while you're waiting to become a meal, it hurts like fuck. Your body and mind get to have one final, totally unnecessary conversation about how you shouldn't've done what you did à la Scrambles to Chopper: (body) "I told ya! I told ya!" (mind) "I know! I KNOW!!!"...but with pain instead of words.
      And like tooth pain, I don't even know the point of the pain associated with kidney stones. Whatever causes them to form in the first place certainly doesn't happen overnight so their being painful just seems so spiteful on the part of your body, doesn't it?
      Why is childbirth painful? One would think that giving birth, being vital for the continuation of a species, would be a most pleasant experience in order to encourage females to want to do it again. But nope, dorko body here has decided to trip all its pain sensors instead.

       I guess I'm referring to two major types of stupid pain here: inexplicable and fatal. Both are senseless but the latter is especially cruel. Unfortunately evolution could never set up a system to deal with fatal pain because, well...you need survivors to pass along traits. Still, you'd think some sort of mercy would exist for cases like this. At the very minimum such a system could be present in the bones and/or the nervous system.
      Breaking a leg in prehistory pretty much meant death. It means death for any animal today to lose its primary means for locomotion. The same is true for severing an artery. Wouldn't it be much more merciful to the animal (or human) if opiates or some other feel-good chemicals could be released from bone marrow if a bone broke or from the brain if reports of pain went above a certain threshold or if blood pressure dropped below a critical point?

      Let the inevitable end for the animal feel euphoric instead of horrifying. Why shouldn't being mauled by a tiger feel fantastic?

LINGERING RACISM...

     While walking to work the other night, I saw two high school aged girls run across what is normally a very busy street to seek shelter from the rain which had only just started. I noticed that they were both rather pretty and for a moment found myself wishing I were their age again if only to continue the fantasy that if I could be given a second chance that I (somehow) wouldn't make the same mistakes over and over again.

      The thought left me when I saw the group of four guys they had been with bicycling and skateboarding across the street to meet them. Three of these teenaged boys were black and the one on the skateboard, latino. I scoffed to myself wondering what these pretty white girls were doing hanging out with these black and latino kids.

      It was an automatic reaction. It caught me off guard. It had been a while since I had felt such a thought in me. I don't know where it comes from or how it got rooted. Is it something my parents had taught me subtly? I don't remember either of them ever being overtly racist.
      My father would drop the N-bomb every once in a while in conversation but I would describe his use of nigger more like the Black People vs. Niggaz bit Chris Rock did all those years ago. My Dad was not wanting for black friends throughout his life so I find his use of nigger puzzling, almost like he believed blacks ought to be better than the stereotypes attributed to them. I never heard him use the word in anger nor did I ever hear him direct the word at a black person.

     Maybe it was the lack of interracial relationships in my life? I cannot think of any except on TV and whenever those relationships did appear the couples always had to justify their being together. That alone presses the idea that such relationships are unnatural and ought not be pursued. Perhaps it plays into the mind over the years?

     My personal thoughts upon seeing a pretty white girl - and it's only when it's a pretty white girl: I could care less if it were an unattractive white girl or a white boy with a black girl - my thought is that of disgust but not disgust in that I find a black guy with a white girl disgusting, but a jealous disgust that derives from my loneliness. This idea that there are plenty of white men for you to be with and you chose a black man? This idea that white girls shouldn't go for other races until all the white men in their local group have been taken.
     The jealousy is still there if the guy with the pretty white girl is white. Perhaps since jealousy comes from an ugly place, it is only natural that racism will follow when presented with the opportunity?

     It is the only racism that lingers on inside me. Personally I think I hide it well. No one I know has ever suspected it in me. It is something I intend to die with and do my damnedest not to pass along to the next generation should I actually have kids of my own.

LINE OF THE DAY, part XXXV

     This is from a recent post on Snopes. It very clearly states why nothing you do will ever make a difference in anything:

"...I tell them that I don't really believe our site (Snopes) makes much of a difference in the greater scheme of things; that the responses we get tend to indicate a good many people are determined to believe whatever they want to believe, and no collection of contradictory factual information, no matter how large or authoritative or impressive it might be, is ever going to dissuade them from their beliefs."    

You said it Homer. You sure said it.

     Remember that quote the next time you try convincing anyone of anything, especially if it's a subject dear to you, and also that you are vulnerable to it too.

9/11: WE WILL NEVER FORGET...BUT WE WILL MOVE ON

     For the twelfth time now, media has officially gone somber for the occasion. Bringing out its sad music and mourning wear, especially for its normally flirty hostesses. A day to pay homage before going back into their normal stupid shit. I'll admit, this September 11th like last year's (for me at least) just came and went without acknowledgement.

     I can't be bothered with it anymore. This "national day of mourning" I feel has long since crossed the line from a genuine expression of emotion to exploitative. It's one thing to acknowledge sadness but it's quite another to use it to drum up business or an agenda and that's what I feel the "holiday" of September 11th has become. It's officially called "Patriot Day" and while no one calls it that, I think just like the other day of infamy in this country, "Pearl Harbor Day" (December 7th), it too will just fade away but not before the big anniversaries - the 20th and 25th (and so forth) - into little blurbs in the headlines becoming less and less acknowledged with each passing year.

     But for me, it's just exploitative. There are enough survivors from that heinous attack. It's their day now, not the nation's. Leave them alone, stop reading the names of those who died that day, and quit it with the phony jingoism and easy patriotism the day affords. Stop using them as symbols to unite us in supporting wars that don't need to be fought.

      I think back to the opposite expression: the end of a trying war. V-J Day was on September 2, 1945 and we've seen the pictures...it was a hell of a celebration (for the United States at least). World War II was finally over. And I imagine there were similar, albeit smaller, parties through what remained of the 1940s on that day. But how long can one keep celebrating victory over one's enemy before it slips from a meaningful celebration over the end of a great war to what amounts to "rubbing it in"?

      And that's what brings me back to September 11th. Yes, the first anniversary was meaningful and it probably should've stopped there as we had taken our pound of flesh from Afghanistan. But before even the second anniversary it had been used as a backdrop to justify an invasion of Iraq and to maintain the growing "security" state apparatus. By the tenth anniversary, one of the big anniversaries, the failure of our "War on Terror" was more than apparent and I remember acknowledging it as such (I'm certainly using that word a lot, aren't I?) but being introspective about what we as a nation had done to others and ourselves in response to that terrorist attack was not fashionable to say the least of it. I'm not when it will ever be fashionable to criticize our responses in the mainstream.

     I'm not sure where I'm going with all this so I'll end it here. September 11th is just another day...as it should be.