Tag Archives: life

No, The Opposite

A co-worker was saying after the unexpected passing of another one of our co-workers that life is too short and not to be petty. I know death effects people in different ways, but the lesson I learn from life’s too short is not to be a better person. On the contrary, every fiber of my being tells me, why are you not going balls out? I shouldn’t be disingenuous and walk on eggshells for people that are assholes, I should be calling them out on their bullshit.

I understand that you can’t say everything that you want to express, but fuck it, if life should be valued, shouldn’t I be able to live it as I see fit? Why should I stifle myself for these horrid swines?

And let me tell you, I’m at my boiling point, so my work peers should brace themselves because there is a good chance that I could see a dismissal in my future for my less then cordial declarations.

A bigger part of me says going down in a blaze of glory would be well worth it.

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I had a very interesting conversation with my friend yesterday about his Thanksgiving week. After the call, I realized that I have a very boring life and his is thrilling, whether it be good or bad, he always has something brewing.

I just went to Jamaica and I have no stories, this man tries to drive up a portion of the East Coast and  it’s like he’s O. Henry. Granted the man is a bit of a maniac, but the tales he has are unbelievable unless you know him and then they seem like they make perfect sense.

I know I’m a snooze because I was trying to think of any tales of debauchery and they all date back to almost a decade ago, none of which come close to any of his stories.

All I can say is that my favorite part of his tale was when he said, “I did you a courtesy by not shooting you.”

I don’t believe that sentence would be used in any of my stories for the remainder of my days.

God Bless this stupid fool and his fantastic antics.



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If This Isn’t a Metaphor for My Life

Image result for sand bucket

I was at the beach the other day. There was a boy who was about the age of ten. He was extremely overweight. He was digging a hole in the sand. I was watching him work away while his single mother slept on the beach. I was obsessed with this fat, little boy digging a huge hole.

There were four girls who were about the age of twelve or so. I noticed girls now roam in packs of four, a la Mean Girls. These girls were cute and turned out to be cheerleaders. They were right in front of the boy doing back flips and throwing each other up in the air. It was very impressive.

The boy paid no mind to these cute little girls flipping in front of him. He was preoccupied with his monster hole. He couldn’t care less about these girls.

The boy finished his project and sat in the hole he made for himself and buried himself in it. By this juncture his unaware mother finally noticed him and helped bury him in the sand.

The cute cheerleaders roamed away.

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My birthday is in precisely four months. I am taking stock of my life and as usual, not finding much to be impressed with.

It’s interesting to me when people don’t believe that I’m boring. Every Monday, the people at work ask me if I did anything over the weekend in true Corporate America fashion. I always respond with no, which is true, unless you find laundry and other chores and errands to be something. They think I’m lying about my dull lifestyle. I’m not, who would make themselves out to be so unexciting? To be fair, even if I did do something, I wouldn’t tell them because It’s not their business to begin with.

I really have to get it together. I am not much of an accomplisher. It seems as if my life is rather featureless.

However, the problem is that I’m not a very motivated person. I don’t have that drive. I prefer to just sort of float.

Example: I wrote a novella. It’s done, just needs some edits, it’s half posted on WattPad, but not published.

I don’t think it’s anything exceptional, but shouldn’t I at this point just finish it up?

It’s hard though because I’d rather eat a ridiculously large bowl of ice cream while watching Turner Classic Movies than actually tie up the loose ends of the novella that I’ve worked on for quite some time.

I’m doing something I never do, giving myself a goal.

I give myself four months to publish it, lets hope TCM isn’t showing anything good in the interim.

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What Is Life?


So here’s the million dollar question that I suppose we all ask ourselves at the very least at one point in our lives, what’s the point to life? It drives me up a wall because I feel like with anything what’s the point in doing something if there’s no purpose to it. So why are we all just moving through this world and not questioning what it is that we are really accomplishing the end of the day? Some people believe that this life is about finding love and happiness through marriage and family. To them I rebut what about all the divorces, broken homes, not properly parented children, financial stresses and more stress in general from figuring out how to properly provide for your family in every aspect. It seems to me you receive more negative facets with this scenario than positive returns. People who believe this is the reason for life are usually co-dependent and fear being alone. Unfortunately, being surrounded by people is not a cure for loneliness.

Others believe that being industrious in their careers and making money is what makes this life worth living. I have been surrounded by the extremely affluent as well as those of very meager means and I’ve learned an important thing money doesn’t mean shit, it just makes certain parts of life easier to deal with and it’s one less concern. I do believe that there is something very gratifying from working hard and feeling a sense of accomplishment but this is not the case for most. Most people work very diligently at thankless jobs and never experience any gratification. Let’s say you get your dream careers, then what? It means nothing in the bigger picture. Twenty years from now nobody will remember you were the CEO.

This brings me to my next point which is fame. Some people believe this life is about be recognized, known and established. What good is that? Take a huge star like Britney Spears, everybody knows her name, do you believe fifty years from now people will give a shit? They may know the name but it doesn’t mean shit to them. I know who Veronica Lake is but that name doesn’t mean much to most people and she was a big-time movie starlet. It doesn’t matter what you do in this life, you will be easily forgotten, out of sight, out of mind.

Now, some people believe that being selfless and helping the less fortunate is what life is about. I think it may be a rewarding feeling but unfortunately most people just pretend to give a fuck. Like all those twats who posted links to the Joseph Kony campaign a few months ago. You think posting a link to your Facebook makes you look socially aware, not it makes you look like a pretentious cunt. I bet the majority of these people did nothing else to help that cause nor do they think about it today. The worst part is the people who really do believe in helping the downtrodden are overlooked and don’t receive much aid in their causes. I just think that as much as people engage in philanthropic acts that when push comes to shove it is pointless because there’s way too much suffering and pain in this sad world, you can barely make a dent into fixing things.

I just don’t know what we’re all doing here. Maybe it’s just a big time kill. I don’t fault people who commit suicide. I get it. This world is more sad than happy so what’s the big deal about staying in it. It makes sense to me why some people would rather feel nothing. Don’t worry I’m not suicidal or anything, I would not kill myself, well at least not at this juncture in my life. Why? Because my suicide would make too many people happy and I want to stay alive just to spite them. Maybe that’s the answer to my question, maybe the point of my life is to be here just to spite those that dislike me, and every breath I take is sticking it to those individuals. I guess I could get on board with that, the point to my life is spreading dickishness, like a Bizzaro Mother Teresa.

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