Being Nice Sucks

You know what I miss – the days on YouTube where everyone was ripping the shit out of everyone else.  When someone had dumb ideas that people were all over them tearing apart their arguments piece by piece and making sport of how stupid they are for believing in that crap.  Those days were great.  Now everybody is kissing everyone else’s ass.  Everybody has to be nice.  Everybody has to be understanding.  It sucks, and drives me up the fucking wall.  What makes it worse is when you have people in real life that say something patently stupid, but you can’t take them to task for it because you have to be fucking nice to everyone.  It’s the cornerstone of professionalism, and it drives me right up the fucking wall.

Today I got into this conversation with some coworkers about anti-vaxxers.  I made a point that I think that if someone refuses to vaccinate their children, they should have their kids taken away because they are an unfit parent.  I still hold to that.  But a couple of my coworkers immediately jumped to the whole “to each their own.”  No!  Let me explain something to you – my ability to punch ends at your face.  The second my fist hurts someone else, I have violated their rights.  It is the EXACT same principle here!  If you don’t vaccinate your kids, you aren’t just hurting your kids!  You’re hurting the children who could potentially get in contact with your children and get serious diseases because you didn’t vaccinate.  Like a baby who is too young, or a kid who is immuno-compromised and get get vaccines.  That child is at risk because of your stupid-ass decisions.

Their reasoning was that some people had a reason.  For one of them, it was a family member who didn’t do that because of their faith.  Are you fucking kidding me?!  So, other children should have to be at risk because of some Bronze Age bullshit that a grown-ass adult only believes because they are indoctrinated with that crap as a kid?!  Because no RATIONAL adult believes in a magic man in the fucking sky!  That’s the crap you believe as a kid!

There’s a man with a white beard who knows what you do all the time, and he knows if you’ve been bad or good, and if you’re good he gives you presents on Christmas.

Oh, I’m sorry.  I confused Gawd with Santa Claus.  Their stories are so easily interchangeable.  And both make about as much sense when you say them out loud.

But I can’t say shit!  I can’t call them out for their stupid-ass beliefs about people who are doing real harm in the world and why we can’t just take the “to each his own” approach to this.  When we’re seeing the rates of diseases that we’ve vaccinated against on the rise in this country, and more and more children getting sick, the principle I described above most definitely applies.  But they’re my coworkers, and I have to be nice.  Even if their beliefs on this issue are fucking stupid and need to be seriously examined.

Everywhere you look, it’s just you having to suck it up and be nice to every goddamn person everywhere because otherwise you get in trouble.  It’s professional, after all.  I probably have a lot of coworkers who think this way.  People whose intelligence I reasonably respect until I hear crap like this.  Then I have to accept that they have these working parts of their brains, and the parts that they turn off for whatever personal reason.  To turn your intellect off.  The cornerstone of American society.

You can’t talk about nothing with nobody.  Everything has to be filtered through a censor with everyone.  I’d say fuck that, but my own rational brain that actually works told me to just go out for a while and come back.  Otherwise I would have torn their stupid ideas a new one, at which point I’d be in trouble.  The curse of being born with a ton of common sense.  Now here I am, wishing I could go back in time and pick that fight because their ideas are stupid on the face of it and somebody needs to fucking tell them!

Maybe that’s how common sense works.  When you accept other people’s stupid ideas and just go about your day because the alternative is worse.  And that’s why being nice sucks.  Because the only way it works is if you kiss everyone else’s ass all the fucking time.  Unless you have enough money to be able to tell people to fuck off.

Like this morning, I am waiting for the elevator to get to my job.  There is this woman there with me.  The door opens, and she just rushes inside, even though there was someone about to come out.  How fucking rude!  But I can’t say anything.  I wanted to.  Wanted to look that bitch right in the eye, with her prissy attitude and expensive clothes, shoes, and handbag, and say, “manners cost nothing, you know.”  But nope!  Just kept quiet and thought that this is why people across the world think that Americans aren’t civilized.  You know, because we’re not.

All I want is to be financially successful enough to tell people what I really think of them.  Over the weekend I told a family member what I think of her, and it felt fucking great!  She is such a bitch to me that being able to tell her off was just the best.  All she ever is is a complete cunt-rag to me.  After our parents’ die, and we get through probate, we will likely never speak again.  Fine by me!  Let our familial connection die out and we go our separate ways.  Will save me a lot of headache.

In the end, I just want to be the jerk that everyone claims I’m not.  I don’t do good things because I want to!  I do them because I feel like it would be a bigger inconvenience if I didn’t!  Like when my aunt was at the hospital and stayed with her while my uncle was in surgery.  If ANYONE else had shown up, I would have left!  I hadn’t eaten dinner yet.  I was hungry and wanted to go home!  My being there at that time was a fucking accident!  And she had to pile on the fucking hero worship after that.  It pissed me off.  Just acknowledge I did something nice and move on.  Just a simple thanks, and we go about our day.  But no!  Down the road, she sees how negative I am online and gets so pissed because she took that initial interaction is what I am really like.  I was a LOT meaner than I should have been when I lost my cool about what happened that night, but it needed to be said.

Being an adult fucking sucks, and I am sick of it.  Sick of everything.  Sick of being alive.  But there’s no other option.  I don’t have the guts to take the quick way out.

Until next time, a quote,

“You gotta kiss some serious booty to get ahead in this world.  Man, that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.  See, I like to take the one-knee approach.  It puts the booty, like, right in front of the lips.” – Capt. Jimmy Wilder, Independence Day

Peace out,

Maverick

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Adulthood Sucks

Decided to do a personal post.  This is about the only place I can be honest with everyone.  In my real world interactions, I basically choose not to talk to anyone, because everywhere I fucking look, it’s people not wanting to talk to me because I’m not super positive guy.  And if you aren’t blowing sunshine up someone’s ass, you are worth talking to.  That’s my life now.  Just avoiding people because if you aren’t happy, NOBODY wants to talk to you.  Everyone avoids you.  It’s just the world we live in.  Right now, I’m getting real sick of that.  Sick of life, and all the bullshit that goes with it.

I hate adulthood.  I fucking despise it.  If I got a time machine, I would go back and tell young me to savor his youth as long as he possibly could.  Of course, my youth ended kinda fast.  See, I had this head injury when I was 14 that fucked my life forever, and I had to grow up real fast.  There’s another thing I’d change.  I’d tell me not to go riding on a bike.  Just walk places.  Stay off that road.  Don’t get into sports.  Was a bad idea to start with.  I’d do a lot of things.

My rent is about to go up.  A lot.  I thought for a while it wasn’t so bad, but now that I see my new financial situation with a vehicle in my name, it just gets worse.  All of my finances are just shit, and my ability to save in any measure is pretty much fucked.  I keep running the numbers, over and over, in my head.  There’s no escape.  None.  I’m saddled with this endless cavalcade of bullshit.  It’s sucking the life out of me right now.

Had a million fucking interviews lately for jobs that pay better.  Getting real fucking tired of it, but can I stop?  Can I rest on my laurels?  I wish I could!  I like the team I’m with now.  They are awesome people.  But no!  I have to keep at this fruitless task, because a job that pays better is a requisite.  I can hear you saying – why not get two jobs?  I work 9-5, five days a week.  So what does that mean for my working?  It means I’d have to get a job I can work on weekends.  You know what that means – retail.  Because no other kind of employer only hires people part time on weekends.  With my medical issues, a job on my feet for hours on end is out.  So yeah, that’s out.

I remember thinking that when I was an adult, I could do what I wanted.  If I wanted something, since I knew I’d be working, I could buy it myself.  Christmas and birthdays would lose some of their child-like luster, but I was more and more enjoying the idea of just spending time with family.  Yeah, my list isn’t going to get any smaller this year.  Because buying things for myself is a cute idea!  Kinda like a vacation, or going to big events, or a social life, or fucking anything!

Doesn’t help that my personal life is another cute idea that died a long time ago.  I get all the ugly shit associated with adulthood, and none of the perks.  No love life.  No sex life.  No fucking anything!  Just getting up, going to work, coming home.  That’s my entire worthless, miserable life.  But you can’t tell that to people.  Because then you get the patronizing bullshit calls or something of “are you okay?”  No!  But what are you gonna do about it?!  I can’t even afford to go long distance to the family because gas ain’t cheap either!  Fuck!

I am so fucking tired of nothing working in my favor.  I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again – where can I cash in on this fucking privilege that these SJWs claim I have in such abundance?  I have white privilege, tall privilege, male privilege, and this is really a thing, smart privilege.  I guess we should extol the virtues of being stupid.  There’s an American thought for ya.  Well tell you what, who do I have to talk to in order to get all the perks?!  I will go there right now and find the nearest minority and rub their nose in these perks!  I want my perks!  Where the fuck are they?!  I have had to fight and scratch and claw and bleed to get ANYWHERE in my life!  So where the fuck can I get these imaginary perks that people say I have?!  Please, tell me where to go.  I will go there.  Today!  Right now!

Bust my fucking ass, and for what?!  So I can have nobody to talk to about why things are hard right now?!  Because everyone ignores me like the fucking plague because I’m negative?!  “Lucien, nobody likes a downer.”  Well then, I guess I get to be alone for the rest of my life.  However long that ends up being.  I take stupid risks just to feel…anything.  I have no fear of death.  Hell, I welcome it.  Am I suicidal?  Damn right!  Only difference is that I have somewhere I have to get to before I can do that.  I refuse to let my life end in this miserable apartment in this miserable city in this fucking icebox state where winter takes up seven months out of the goddamn year.

Every day I do my very best to be the best at whatever I do.  Where has it gotten me?  Nowhere.  It’s gotten me failed relationships, failed friendships, and the subtle realization that one day I will wake up and I’ll be 40 and I’ll probably be in the same goddamn place doing the same goddamn thing.  This is my life!  I fucking hate adulthood.  I would give my last 30 years to be able to go back and enjoy being a kid all over again.  Because looking at the future gives me a fucking headache.  Looking at the past feels pretty alright.

Until next time, a quote,

“‘What’s your favorite childhood memory?’ Not paying bills.” – Anonymous

Peace out,

Maverick

My Bloody Nightmare

The buildings are all made of white stone.  It’s so beautiful to look at, if it wasn’t for what i had to see.  Cobbled stonework on the streets.  It’s a maze of narrow pathways which my feet are running through.  Tripping, stumbling over things, or my own two feet.  My balance has been terrible since my head injury.  Narrow roads, narrow stairs, narrow doors, all shut tight.  Star shimmering above, and a bright moonlight out.  In any other reality, this would be beautiful.  But not in this one.  Not for me.  It’s horrifying.  I’m trapped in Hell.

Tripping again, looking up, I see a girl.  A look of gut-wrenching terror on her face, with her belly torn open and her innards strewn about.  It almost looked like she was trying to put things back in.  What could have done this?  Have to get up.  Have to keep moving.  I can feel something approaching, and I don’t want to be there when it arrives.  All that matters is getting out of this place.

A maze of narrow corridors, with awning overhead that are grown over with vines.  Is there no way out of here?!  I bang on doors, try to open any of them, but they are either locked, or destroyed.  Fire is pouring out of a window.  Turn a corner, blood everywhere.  Like a person was standing there and just exploded.  Viscera leaking down the beautiful white stone.  This can’t be real.  It has to be a bad dream.  But it feels so real.

There’s the wind on my face.  It’s warm.  So warm.  Salty.  A sea breeze!  That means there’s an ocean!  I have to get there.  Follow the scent, get to the sea, then get the fuck out of here.  That presence I’ve been feeling, it’s getting closer.  I know that it is.  Something is very wrong here, and I can’t be here when it decides to come knocking.

Turning the corner again.  An open area between several buildings.  Three ways to go.  Which one is it?!  That’s when I see something.  A little boy, couldn’t be more than six or seven.  He’s ripped in half, with one half in one place, the other far away.  Did something throw the pieces of this poor kid away?  Like he was a piece of trash.  What sort of person could do this?!  But it couldn’t be a person.  I know that.  This is too violent.  Too ugly.  Some kind of beast had done this.  Claw marks all over the cobbled stone streets.  I know I’m right.  I always am.

Finally, I decide to pick a direction.  If I stop running, whatever did this will catch up.  The presence feels even closer now.  It’s gaining on me!  Everything in my body is aching.  My breath is pouring out with such excruciating pain, like the bellows.  But I can’t stop.  Tripping again.  Over a head!  A young woman, with beautiful black hair.  Eyes wide in fear, like the other.  Pushing myself up, I see a man’s body through the window.  It’s got no head, with blood leaking out of the stump facing me.  So horrible.  What kind of creature would do this?  Was I the only one left?

Going faster and faster.  The smell of the breeze is getting closer.  I can feel it now!  Hope, at last.  Just a little bit, but it’s enough.  All I need to keep moving.  More blood.  It’s everywhere.  Pieces of bodies all over the place.  Slip on an organ, but keep on my feet.  Then I see where a man’s body lies.  He is holding an ax.  Was he trying to fight the creature?  Clearly he lost.  Front ripped open from head to pelvis.  It’s like a dissection from the front.  Can’t stay here.  A little further, and a woman also on the ground.  Was that man trying to save them?  Did he try and fight to buy them time?  There’s a giant hole in her head, like from where a claw would go into, so clearly that failed.  Then the worst of it comes to light.  The body of a little girl.  Looking like she was chomped down on, with the top part missing.  From the chest up, gone.

Now my path is taking me up stairs.  Up?!  That isn’t where I want to go.  But I can’t turn around.  If I do, I’m heading closer to whatever did this, not further.  No choice but to go on this road.  A window covered in blood, from the inside.  Whoever was in there is dead now.  Old, coagulated blood.  What happened to this place?  Up and up and up, with more blood and ripped open bodies.  My body is screaming at me, 1000 promises of pain and horror.  Have to keep going!  Can’t stop!

Then I get to the top of the path, and I see that I’m on a roof.  There’s a cliff in front of me, with the water down below.  Should I jump?  No way.  That water would turn to a concrete floor by the time I land.  But there’s nowhere else to go.  I’m trapped.  Turning, I see across this white stone city.  Smoking coming up, fires burning without anyone to stop them, signs of dead bodies all over.  Was the entire city dead?!  How could a creature do this much damage?!

A noise.  Crashing, smashing, moving.  Claws on stone, slashing at everything.  It was getting close.  Coming up the stairs, faster and faster.  It knew that its quarry wasn’t far.  I could almost feel the giddiness from it, as it was going to get another meal.  Happily bounding toward me, and all I could think about was how fucked I am.  It rounds a corner, and I see hanging from it’s long, spear-like claws are bodies.  Little bodies that are torn open.  It holds its hand up to its head and bites down.  Blood drips down.

There are no words to describe this creature.  I could only see it’s silhouette.  Tall, in a way I had never seen before.  It stood like a man, with such long, gangly arms, along with gangly legs.  It was lanky.  Head, smooth, with a grotesque smile on its face.  On each hand was long, thin, bladed fingers.  Each finger had a new disgusting nightmare of flesh.  Most of it was dead.  There was one that wasn’t fully.  Writhing, trying to get away.  A young man with a look of horror on his face.  No escape for him.  Just horrifying death and pain.  I felt for him.

Now it was after me.  I could see the look in its eyes.  I was its next victim, and there was nothing I could do.  Looking back, at the sea.  The only way out.  There was literally nowhere else to go.  I could jump and die, or get ripped to pieces by that thing and die.  The choice basically made itself.  I turned back, chuckling to myself, then flipped that fucker off.  That’s when I jumped.

In a flash, it was rushing forward.  I was falling, fast.  Like a stone, headed to the floor.  It’s long, sick arm reached out for me, but as it tried to stab with one of it’s sick fingers, Lady Luck smiled upon me.  I had gone too far.  It screamed in rage as all it could do was watch.  Now I turned to face the water, coming up with speed.  This was it.  I would die.  At least not the way all these people had.

Then, as I hit the water, I wake up.

Until next time, a quote,

“Monsters don’t sleep under your bed.  They sleep inside your head.” – Anonymous

Peace out,

Maverick

My Magic Realm

In my dreams, sometimes I see a special realm that is just for me.  It doesn’t conform to the rules of this world.  This cold, unfeeling world.  It’s a special place, and I alone have access to it.  A world where all my hopes and dreams exist and I can live the life that I want to live.  Sometimes the days are pretty, sometimes they aren’t, but no matter what, that place is still warm and inviting to me.  I don’t have to be afraid of life.  Let me tell you about it.  Maybe you can understand.

In that place, I’m not afraid of my finances.  I’m not bone-dead terrified of the fact that I’m kicking 30 in the ass and I don’t have any kind of career going.  The future is a fun thing to think about, not a scary one.  Medical bills aren’t the end of the world.  They are an issue, sure, but one that I can overcome with enough planning.  I have a car I really want and it’s super awesome.  Sometimes I just go driving places that I haven’t been before, just to see what’s over that.  It’s a great time.  I can afford to eat healthier and I have a fully stocked kitchen.  My home is an actual house, not some shitty apartment in a shitty part of a shitty town.

That’s another thing – my place is on the ocean!  Each day I wake up to the sound of the waves crashing against the shore.  My amazing kitchen has a view of the ocean and I get to sit on my porch watching the sun set every night.  It’s pretty awesome.  The salty breeze telling me stories of all sorts of adventures that are yet to be had.  And I don’t have to worry about money.

Because I have a cool job that I really like.  A job where I get to analyze information and share the conclusions I come to and the predictive models of that info with people.  It’s hard work, but at the end of the day I get to go home and really feel like I accomplished something.  I get to show off my intellect that I have worked so hard to refine after I nearly lost everything because of a head injury all those years ago.

Speaking of, in my magical realm, my head injury hasn’t left me a glass human being, one knock to the skull away from losing it all.  My neck isn’t fused and I can feel my feet.  I get to walk through the grass at my place.  One of my favorite things is to mow that.  Back at my parent’s place, one of my favorite activities was being on the riding mower and just losing myself to the act of mowing grass.  That was loads of fun.  It doesn’t sound like it, but it is.

In my realm, there are tons of people who come over and who ask me how I am.  People don’t see my depression as something to avoid.  They accept who I am and do their best to have a good time because they know that I will do all I can to make sure they have fun.  I love to make tasty food and show off.  I’m a damn good cook.  You have no idea.  Got probably one of the few real friends I have left who comes over for dinner every now and again, and I fucking kick ass every time.  I keep joking that if I fuck it up, we’ll have pizza and be sad, but I never do.  Lady Luck decides not to fuck with me on those nights.  It’s pretty great stuff.  People have abandoned me en masse.

Coming home every day, I don’t just have my empty fridge.  There’s a couple awesome kitties who I get to greet.  They’s super sweet.  One of them is white and orange, with this big fluffy tail.  It loves to swim.  The second one is grey with black stripes and spots.  I’ve known her all my life, and in that place she’s still there.

In that place, I have a person that I am seeing.  It’s been going on for a while, and I’m thinking about asking her to marry me.  She’s this really cool girl I’ve known for most of my life.  We grew up together, and when I told her how I felt, she was really surprised, but then came back to me later and said she thought it was worth exploring.  The rest has been really exciting history.  Thinking about one day having a kid with her.

It’s a magical place.  Too bad it isn’t real.  Waking up on those nights fucking sucks, because all reality does is trample down on me.  I hate my life.  Not a fan of being alive, but since there’s nothing after you die, I’m kind of stuck in this game.  But who knows.  Maybe one day I’ll wake up and I can be that other person.  That person in that place, who isn’t me.  Who is some other guy.  Someone that people can like and get along with.

It’s a nice thought.

Until next time, a quote,

“I…I hate myself.” – Anna Sasaki, When Marnie Was There

Peace out,

Maverick

Santa Fe Shooting, a Turning Point in America

Another school shooting.  Let the usual fluff and bullshit begin.  The conservatives yelling about how the insane ease of access to firearms in this country has nothing to do with anything and “don’t take our guns!” becoming another bullshit mantra.  There will be the conservative retards screaming about how we need to arm teachers, because in their delusional world everyone is Dirty Harry.  We can have the left and right maligning video games again, because that’s always fun.  Nobody will ever see that all of this is diversionary tactics to get it so that nobody will talk about actually doing anything.  Because if that precious NRA money doesn’t flow into Congress, how can the corrupt leaders of this nation keep hoodwinking the stupid-ass public?

In the end, nothing will happen.  Because by the time people mobilize to take action and those who actually give a shit about the loss of human life are able to get into action, people will have moved on to the next stupid thing.  Royal wedding coming up.  I’m sure that’s important to talk about.  Right?  Or maybe we can move on to the next mass shooting.  They happen with such regularity in this country that it starts to almost look like a pattern.

I’ve come to realize something about this country.  It breaks my fucking heart, but it’s true.  We don’t care about this shit anymore.  Not even a little.  We’ve gotten to the point that mass shootings and tons of people getting killed doesn’t phase us anymore.  It doesn’t matter how many people die, how many schools and streets and places that people should feel safe are splattered in blood.  We, as a society, have decided to stop caring about the violence that we see every day.  Because now it’s just become the flavor of the week.  It’s become the thing that we all just live with.

That breaks my fucking heart.  It really does.  To think that a land that used to be seen as a place of peace and prosperity now gets to be known for the killings, with nothing being done, and the sides of the political spectrum doing everything they can to make it about their bullshit topic.  You have the conservatives who go through the motions of saying “look at how violent this other country is!  Violence is going down!  All of this gun violence stuff is so overblown!”  Then you have the left where people are like “why can’t you talk more about brown people?!  This is diverting people’s attention from cops killing black people!”  With both sides calling the other snowflakes (a term that neither side has ANY right to use).

Oh, and let’s not forget how we need more Jesus!  Yeah, because his almighty ass sure is doing a lot of save people in this country that supposedly he fucking loves.  “But Lucien, he’s not allowed in schools anymore!”  Fuck you, you retard!  He can’t be mandated in public schools.  Teachers aren’t allowed to lead schools in prayer.  If students want to pray, they can do that all they want.  They can even start religious clubs.  There was one at my high school.  There is nothing stopping any kids from being as religious as they want.  So where the fuck is he?!  Where the fuck is your bullshit “all-loving” God now?!  No-fucking-where, that’s where.  Because he isn’t real.  He’s a myth that people cloak themselves in because death is scary and the idea that things happen that are awful for no reason hurts to think about.  So fucking sick of all the religious retards I see having to sing the blues about how they are so oppressed and Jesus is so hurting in a nation that is 80% Christian.  Yeah, you all are so under-represented.  How many of those morons call the other side “snowflakes?”

The song and dance never changes.  Nothing gets better.  Nothing ever well.  We’ve stopped caring as a country.  Everybody will just say stupid shit like “nothing you can do to stop it anyway.”  Yeah, that’s said in a nation where this shit happens all the time.  But maybe those people do have a point.  After all, any efforts to do anything of merit would have the NRA dropping millions of dollars to lobby against it.  And since they are an immensely powerful lobby, money talks.  Money is all the talk.

It’s the reason why the drug war keeps going even though there is no measurable amount of success it has ever had.  It’s why this country is slavishly dependent on oil (I live in a big oil state that is seeing the oil dry up, so I am seeing the end result of this first-hand) when green energy is getting bigger and bigger everywhere else.  China is leaving us in the dust in terms of being environmentally friendly.  Granted, it’s because they have no choice.  Pollution there is out of control.  But hey, at least they fucking learn from their mistakes!  When the fuck does America do that?!

There are so many days where I get so fucking tired of reading the news.  In my home state it’s story after story of violence.  My state is the second most violent state to live in, from a study I found the other day.  There are so many shootings in my city that I don’t count them as a weekly thing.  I see something in the papers almost daily.  But nobody cares.  It’s just the flavor of the week.  Parents weep for dead children.  Spouses week for lost teachers and people just trying to help save lives.  Siblings weep for family they will never talk to again.  But what the fuck does this nation that cares do?!  NOTHING!  Fucking Nothing!

While Trump can spew all of his bullshit about “Make America Great Again,” I am watching this nation bleed to death.  I knew all of that shit was a con from the start, but can the people who supported the orange monkey finally admit it too?  Can they admit that the fucker is a corporate tool?  We all know he won’t do shit. Last time he actually said he sent thoughts and prayers to them.  Well thanks for that, you useless lump of shit!  I’m sure the families there are so comforted.  Fuck!

Does this have a bottom to it?  Is there a point where it ever ends?  I don’t fucking know.  I wish I did.  Truly, I wish I knew where all of this bullshit ended.  Because I’m getting tired of a friend who is becoming a teacher being afraid that she is going to have a gun in the room with little children and be expected to use it when she is a naturally very fearful person who doesn’t like conflict.

You don’t fucking care, America.  I just want you fuckers to admit it.

Until next time, a quote,

“It’s not the violence of the few that scares me.  It’s the silence of the many.” – Rev. Martin Luther King Jr

Peace out,

Maverick

A Sad Dream

I had a dream the other night.

It’s late, and I’m in my old house.  The one I grew up in, for the bulk of my life when I was young.  A three story house that my old man built almost entirely by himself.  No joke, he actually did.  Took a few years, but he got it done.  Wicked impressive.  Sucks to see what’s become of the joint now.
Growing up, I always was up early.  Made the old man happy.  I greeted each day with him.  In the morning, in the summer, I remember the damp air.  Birds calling, waking up.  Mosquitoes at my screen over my window.  I remember all of that.
In the dream, I’m waking up in that house.  But I’m not little kid me.  I’m the older version.  To grown up one.  During the summer up here, the sun never really sets.  It can get super dim, but it never becomes truly night.  There is a sound.  It’s the phone ringing.  The old phone with the cord on the wall.  But it was still me as a grown-up in that place, even though that was an eternity ago.  My room was just across from the kitchen in that place.  The phone was on the wall adjoining the kitchen and dining room.
I stumble out of my room and pick it up.
“Hello?”
“Hey, you idiot.”
“C?  Babe, it’s early.”
There’s this pause.  “I know.  I’m sorry.  Just wanted to hear your voice, you know?  I don’t know if I’ll get another chance.”
I’m confused. “Another chance for what?”
“To ask you a question.”
“What question?”
The pause hangs in the air so hard, so long.
“Are you happy?”
Pain grips my heart.  I try to hide it from my voice.  “I get by.”
“That’s not an answer.”
She always had a gift at cutting through my bullshit.  “I know.  Sorry.”
“Just tell me.  I won’t be mad.  Are you happy?”
Now it’s my turn for a pregnant pause.  “No, C.  I’m not.  It’s been so hard.  I miss you every day.”
Can almost feel her sadness.  “I know.  I’m so sorry, Lu.”
Shake my head.  “Why?  It’s my fault.  If we hadn’t been fighting, you wouldn’t have left that night.”
“I don’t blame you.”
“I started that fight.”
“Yeah, but it ain’t I didn’t have it coming.  I fucked up.”
The two of us sat there, not saying anything for a while.
“Wish I could be where you are.  Apologize to you in person.”
“I know.  But you can’t.  Not now, anyway.  You gotta keep going.”
“Why?  Life sucks, C.  I’m not going anywhere.  I’m all alone here.  Everyone has ditched me.  Went off to their own fucking lives or don’t like me anymore.  Or I drove them away because I didn’t learn anything and fucked up their lives.”
“She doesn’t feel that way.  Hell, she was enabling you just as much as you were making her life more difficult.  She’s a grown-up too, and has to take responsibility for her own bad decisions.  So do I, I guess.”
“Yeah, but you won’t.  You’re not here anymore.”
“Sure.  But you don’t actually know that there’s nothing after this.”
“No reason to think there is.”
“Maybe it’s on another worldline.  Like us, right now.”
“Is that what this is?”
“Why not?  It could be.  There’s no way to know for sure.”
I smile to myself.  Takes me back to some of our old arguments.  Hours spent arguing about the nature of existence.  It’s good stuff.
“Is apologizing a waste of time?”
The pain grips me again.  “No.  I don’t think so.”
“Okay.  I’m sorry, Lucien.  I fucked up.  I drove you away.  Forgive me?”
Had to think about that.  “Sure.  I’m tired of being mad, C.”
“I know you are.  I love you.”
“Love you too.”
“Bye.”
“Wait!  C, don’t go!  Don’t hang up.”
“I have to, Lu.  You’re gonna wake up, in your worldline.”
“I don’t want to wake up there anymore.  I don’t want to go back to that dead-end job and my dead-end life.  Please don’t make me hang up.  Stay.  Please.”
“Wish I could.  I really do.  Get a chance to fix what went wrong.  What I fucked up.  Bye, Lucien.”
“C, don’t go!”
That was when I wake up.

She used to tell me about how reality is countless universes running parallel to one-another.  That each universe exists on different worldlines.  She genuinely believed that in dreams, we can occasionally see onto those worldlines.  Part of me always thought that was just silly pseudo-science.  But nights like that, I wonder.  I miss her all the time.

Until next time, a quote,

“Why are you crying, sweetheart?”
“Because you’re not real.” – Chloe Price, Life is Strange: Before the Storm

Peace out,

Maverick

My Views on Assisted Suicide, Part Deux

I’ve said in the past that I think that those who are suffering from terminal illnesses should be allowed to seek assisted suicide.  My views on this were sharpened by an episode of FRONTLINE called “The Suicide Tourist” (linked here).  The story of Craig Ewert is heart-breaking stuff.  To go from a very vibrant man to a shell of a human being, watching your body slowly decay and losing control of your faculties, I can’t imagine what that’s like.  Well, to an extent.  When I was 14 I smashed my skull open.  I died for a little bit there, when my heart stopped.  I was in a coma for a month.  Coming out of that, I could barely move, couldn’t do anything for myself.  It was the most emasculating and humiliating experience of my life.  To be 14 years old, and unable to do basic bodily functions by yourself.  It was so utterly dehumanizing to not even be able to wipe my own ass without my mother’s help.  It was there or a nurse, and my pride couldn’t take someone else doing that.  It was awful.  Granted, I did get stronger as I went along, but I can at least understand some of what Ewert was feeling.

There was a story a few years back of a woman who was dying of cancer, in constant pain, who also wanted to end her life.  I wrote a post in support of that.  One of my best friends, I got to watch her mother die of lung cancer.  It happened because she smoked like a chimney, and didn’t really think too hard about the consequences.  What it did to my girly-mate and I to see that was just awful.  Had she pursued that course of action, I would have totally understood.

However, there was a story in the news recently that also got my attention.  It is also very harrowing stuff, as it is about a person who is a very smart mind, forced to confront a different kind of dying and his choices about that.  The story was about an Australian scientists named David Goodall (linked here).  He’s 104 and he wants to die.  The man isn’t terminally ill.  His belief is that his quality of life has reached a point where it will never improve, which is true, and he wants to end his life.  He has flown to Switzerland, much as Ewert did, to end his life.

This got me to thinking about the idea of those who are not terminally ill, but very old and their right to die.  Got me to thinking about my grandmother on my mother’s side.  See, she also was slowly deteriorating.  More and more, she couldn’t take care of herself.  It was coming to the point that my parents were wondering if they should take her in to take care of her.  A lot like me, she couldn’t do basic functions without help.  And a lot like me, she had my mother sometimes helping her with that.  I think about what it must be like, to have your child helping you go to the bathroom.  It must be so humiliating and degrading.  All of your pride just dies away as you watch that.

I thought about if my parents ever did take her in, and if she were ever to ask me to help her end her life.  Would I have done it?  Honestly, yeah.  I’m pretty sure I would have.  Seeing how she was at the end and her quality of life, I probably would have helped her.  The truly tragic irony is that what killed her was a blind, stupid accident.  It was an ugly way to go.  Her head get stuck between the bars at the head of her special medical bed at the old folk’s home she was living at.  She was trying to get in bed.  Something happened, and her head was stuck in there.  Essentially, she was strangled to death by the bars.  Ugly way to die.  Unfortunate.

Looking at stories like David Goodall, I think about how those who reach a certain age and quality of life should be allowed to seek assisted suicide legally.  There’s no good reason why they can’t.  Now, I can hear people already saying that it would be exploited by greedy children looking to get inheritance.  I do see that potential for abuse.  Convincing people who are elderly and mentally compromised to end their lives.  But just like what is done in Switzerland, there should be a process where you verify that a person is of sound mind.  That their reasoning is solid.

I have a special relationship with death.  Having been physically dead once, I don’t view it as something to be afraid of.  It’s a constant companion.  As the telomeres decay at the end of each linear chromosome, you are aging.  Only cancer cells are immortal.  It will come for all of us, sooner or later.  If you are one of the people who is stuck in that position that your ability to live is so miserable that each day holds nothing for you, there’s no rational reason to force you to continue existing.  We allow pets whose quality of life has decayed to nothing the opportunity to die.  People should be given it too.

Every single day I take walks.  Each of my 15 minute breaks at work are spent walking.  I want to be able to have an active life.  Obesity runs in my family.  I’m overweight, but I love pizza too much to ever truly be skinny.  But I want to be active enough to have people in my life want to do something sometime (a man can dream) and to be like “sure, that sounds like fun.”  Granted, because of my nerve damage in my feet, I’m not gonna be hiking a mountain or spending all day on my feet, but I’d like to be able to go on adventures for a few hours and be able to make the most of my life.

People seem to believe that life is a sacred thing.  It must be cherished and fought for.  Some truth to that.  If life is worth nothing, why would anyone keep living?  I view my life as worth very little, but it does at least have some value.  I can watch movies, read books, play games, search for great stories.  Narratives that move my heart, make my soul take flight.  Given how little personal interaction or stimulation I have with actual human beings, fiction is about the best I’ve got.  It’s sad that I feel more kinship with fictional characters than I do real people.  These days, anyway.

That went on a tangent.  The point is – if a person’s quality of life is such that waking up each day is no longer an experience that is tolerable, filled with pain or weakness, there’s no logical reason to force that person to continue to live.  None.  I wish David Goodall a peaceful hereafter.  I wished Craig Ewert peace.  I don’t believe in God, but if there is something after all of this, hopefully their next phase isn’t as painful as the one here.

Until next time, a quote,

“I’m not tired of living.  I’m tired of the disease, but I’m not tired of living.  I’d like to keep living, but I can’t.” – Craig Ewert

Peace out,

Maverick