Fahckmylife's Blog
Crap adult, OK human.

Cranky and moderately disapproving picture of me?

I wish I could write something.  I wish I didn’t just have to stare at this screen hoping for words to spill out in some kind of coherent way.  I wish I didn’t feel this urge to paint some sort of picture for someone.  Not that I should care.  The chance of complete fulfillment has more than likely completely passed me by by now.  And when I start thinking like this I start to wonder whether there is any point in trying to write any more.  I think maybe that I’ve been quite distracted recently and possibly that my cynicism is fading.  This bothers me immensely.  Without my cynicism I am nothing!

Is the sole purpose of life to get bored or hurt in order to express your sadness?  Is your creative success based on your ability to convey your dissatisfaction with life to others and for them to think it’s clever and identify with you?  So that we can all bond over how unhappy we are?  Yeah, sure the human condition is pretty pretentious in itself, always searching for things that it cannot handle. So much so, that the mundane and trivial, which previously would have been adequate lifestyles for other generations seem stupid and futile now.  And, unfortunately, being able to articulate your feelings, does not help you understand your frustrations or your sadness any more than if you had kept it simple.  In many ways simple would be easier.  Although, then again, there would be no art for some if there wasn’t tragedy for others, right? Also, if everything was easy and simple it would probably make you a slow person because as we all know happy people aren’t interesting.  In fact, the more fucked up someone is, the more chance that I would like them.

I always wonder about interactions as well.  At this stage I’ve come to expect the worst in people and to a certain extent this gives me an elitist approach.  I’d like to think that I only tend to surround myself with people on at least the same level as me.  I have no time to waste on fools anymore.  When I look more closely these friendships, relationships and whatever, it appears that I have become quite weary of everything.  Unless something is extremely well established its position within your life it should never be assumed or taken for granted, and even then, it still should be treasured.  People can string people beautiful sentences together or make impressive gestures but instantly its meaning can evaporate.  For example, the sentence ‘I love you’ is only meaningful as it is uttered.  The reality of this is that everything can change, even over the course of a second, and can be rendered meaningless by another thought or sentence, which in due course can continue through the very same cycle.  This leads you then to wonder about everyone’s perceptions of various words or ideologies again.  Nothing means the exact same thing to anyone.  No two people will ever conjure the exact same mental image of a chicken in their heads (let alone have any feasible way to measure this) so how can a more complex matter such as love, happiness or grief aspire to fit into some key indicator for communication between people?  Your definition of love may hold similar characteristics to that of mine but there may also be differences, both subtle and striking that make our overall perceptions completely different to each other. I’m sure this is why most people who care about each other fight.  This just leads me to question whether or not this means that two people can really truly love each other, especially if they are operating under two different definitions of ‘love’, and what is expected of them as a result.

A child’s love is unconditional until they reach adulthood.  It is still a selfish love though but none-the-less a touching one, appealing to the rational logic of instinct in most people.  The idea of being needed is for lack of better word, lovely.  The idea that someone relies on you for almost everything emotionally, physically and mentally is fantastic.  If you have never experienced that kind of love or need (which I never had until I had Oscar) it is amazing.  And then you start to need them.  Sadly as they get older they need you less and less and then your relationship is only really guaranteed in blood.  You hope you aren’t making the same mistakes that you resent your own parents for.  You find you are making your own new ones though and hope you balance being a friend and parent effectively.  You hope you mould your child into a nice little person, tolerate and friendly, arty and then you question your own stupidity.  Are you really fit to be teaching your child anything?  And then you remember the kid you saw on the bus in the morning whose mother had given it Meanies for breakfast.  Sure, you might be a bit silly and sure you get cranky sometimes when you’re tired but you aren’t that bad.  In some cases guilt still forms a major basis for relationships being maintained into adulthood.  

Forgive me.  I am pretentious.  I digress.  I’m just exercising my brain muscles.  Maybe something usable will come out soon.