I turned 40 and time hit me like a jolt on a roller coaster. It's exciting, in a way. And it makes me wanna throw up. My mind is insisting I can put it into words, but then it feels like describing a dream with pinpoint accuracy, hooked up to a lie detector and sweating bullets. It's absurd, like asking a cloud to kindly get inside this balloon I got.
But what I am capable of at the moment is rambling. I'm 40 and I'm a man, a rambling man who rambles on to compete in this year's Royal Ramble. Where I'm gonna throw 29 other ramblers over the top rope.
See, that was a ramble.
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Of all the outlooks one could have on life, I think the one that irritates me most is when someone says, "Nobody is happy." It's such a weak-ass give-up move. Which is not to say that I am living proof of happiness right now--I'm not--but I personally have known pure happiness as both a child and adult. In adulthood, it's been fleeting, yeah, and taking care of myself has been so hard that it's been very hard to sustain relationships because I also try to take care of someone else, and that's just been borderline impossible for me for the most part... But I have enjoyed pure happiness in the last five years. It lasted about five months, but hey, I'll take it. So when it comes to waving that sad little white flag and fucking tapping out and going, "Welp, no one is happy, so this is fine," fuck that. You don't get to put guaranteed misery on me. That's on you Brah.
Why do we shut our brains off to the tangible science of what is happening to our planet? Like, it makes someone a hippie or they're somehow delusional or melodramatic to be concerned about what people much smarter than the average human are calling a "climate crisis" or "existential threat"? Melting ice caps is a thing. Not a made-up thing, a thing. We need cleaner energy for fuck's sake. Big Oil sucks. Diesel is stupid. The sun and wind are awesome, undervalued because of corporate greed. To have a chance of minimizing the damage, long term, for real. This is a bad habit of humans polluting their home planet without really addressing the consequences. There are consequences. And that's why we shield our eyes from science sometimes. The damage humanity has compiled is so grim.
Memes are overrated. People identify as funny or thoughtful by showing what someone else created. I have indeed meme'd, but it's a lot more rewarding to post my own attempts at jokes and insight. I'd rather fail with my own words than see that a meme I found is doing well in the likes category. Memes are the cheapest form of art. At best, they're pennies, compared to a great film, book, record, show, painting, etc. Real art is worth a solid dollar compared to cheap-ass penny memes.
Y'all say "literally" too much. It's the most overused word on the planet. Almost everything that happens happens in a literal sense. There is no need to clarify. I know I might sound like a pretentious grammar snob on the spectrum here, but it's true. I saw a reel about cute dogs with the preface "You will literally die when you see these adorable dogs." That's poor, misleading language. You will figuratively die when you see adorable dogs. A literal death means viewing cute dogs will stop your heart from beating. Next stop, the morgue. For more about "literally" making me cringe, read the next paragraph.
"I literally went to the Kwik Trip. I was so low on gas, literally on "E." I filled up the tank until it was literally full. But then guess who I saw? It was literally my high school science teacher. My head literally exploded. I said to him, 'I haven't seen you in literally 10 years!'" If you remove a certain shitty adverb from that story, get this: It gets the exact same point across. And it's more concise and less annoying. Grrr.
^I feel like if I was more outspoken about certain things that bug me, people would like me less. I'd be lonelier, more alienated. And I already feel that way too much for comfort. So I keep a lot of it to myself, except when I write. Then I have the freedom to gripe. Ironically, I am alone when I write. And I like it that way.
^Being alone helps me enjoy silence. This world gets so noisy I can barely think or do basic things. Ever since I was a kid, when I heard a motorcycle drive through the neighborhood, my instinctive thought is pleading Please shut up! I've always been sensitive to obnoxious noises that disrupt the beautiful quiet we can experience.
At the same time, I love music. And if it's really loud, well, that's not necessarily a deal-breaker. To hell with motorcycles though. I've never been a cool guy because I can't stand them. No regrets there.
I don't want to be alone, but it keeps happening. Somehow I'm just bad at sustaining long-term relationships with women. It's been an ongoing pain and emptiness that I've struggled with for most of my adult life. I've failed with women so many times that it's hard to stay hopeful and keep trying. I had one woman in my life that I wanted to see, hear, smell, and touch everyday for as long as I lived. She dumped me after like 7 months. That was almost 4 years ago. Memories of regret still haunt me. I could have done more. I could have communicated better, been more assertive. I don't know if I'll ever feel so much emotion for anyone else. Still, the worst narrative my life could have played out would be if I never met her. I don't believe in the Eternal Sunshine solution. I would come home from work, see her curled up on the couch at midnight. I'd wake her up gently and say, "Hey, beautiful." And she'd be in an adorable fog and reply, "Hey, handsome." We'd tell each other about our days, then we'd go to bed. Every day was good for me when we had that together. Every problem was fine. Living with depression and anxiety was fine. "Hey, beautiful," "Hey, handsome" made it all OK.
I know I can be confident and charismatic, even a good leader. I think I'll get one or two more real opportunities, and I'll just have to step up. Getting out of a long slump is something one needs to work on every day. There are no shortcuts. There is no magic aside from love, and love can be heartbreaking.
If you read "Dreams about Dad," I got the perfect ending with Bill... At the same time, it's sad to realize that that means I never have to dream about him again. Best case scenario, I'll see him in the afterlife and give him a hug. Eventually we'll stop crying and get caught up on the Packers. "I know, Rodgers got to be such a diva. Great player, but full of drama. Just like Favre. Is Bart Starr up here? He seems cool." Worst case scenario is a blank screen, and I have no consciousness to be aware of it. How boring is that? I like the imagination of believing in God and Heaven, even though it's downright silly.
