Songs are poetry too, right?

And when you wanted me, I came to you.
And when you wanted someone else, I withdrew.
And when you asked for light, I set myself on fire.
And if I go far away, I know, you'll find another slave.


And when you wanted blood, I cut my veins.
And when you wanted love, I bled myself again.
Now that I've had my fill of you, I'll give you up forever.
And here I go, far away, I know you'll find another slave.


Then a vision came to me:
When you came along, I gave you everything...
But then you wanted more.


Now I'm free from what you want.
Now I'm free from what you need.
Now I'm free from what you are.

To douche or not to douche . . .

Why is it when you treat people like complete and utter shit things start to go in a positive manner? Life seems to actually go your way? My outlook on life always seems to be at its worst whenever I try and be nice and polite, treating people how I want to be treated, yadda yadda yadda, because everything, in a word, sucks. Everybody just runs roughshod over you when you're nice. Nice guys finish last. You'll get your just desserts, they say. All those douchebags who look happy now are going to regret in ten years when nobody likes them and they're poverty-stricken, and karma finally kicks in. Except that never seems to happen. The douchebags just keep on prospering and the nice guys get dick.

I can look back on my life and when I didn't care about whose feelings I hurt or even what I did, I got all sorts of good things handed to me: solid jobs that paid well, good grades in school, girls, friends, whatever and everything. But I swear to god, I would think I should stop being so callous. Stop being so indifferent. Start caring about others' feelings. What happened? The jobs dried up or the company went out of business, grades slipped, girls become disinterested, friends get other friends.

What the fuck?

Seriously.

This is not what I was taught by anybody while growing up by anybody. There has to be some idiotic flaw hardwired into the human psyche that tells it to latch onto whatever treats it like it's worthless.You see or hear this in the news all the time. Spousal abuse and the abused claims it's their fault and somehow they're to blame. America itself is a prime example. When we try to simper and snivel our way into the good graces of other countries they hate us, but when we say we're gonna do this regardless of what you think goddammit then people leave us the fuck alone.

Perhaps resentment bubbles to the surface when we see people acting respectful with all of man's potential. Something just gnaws at our brain that says they're not taking control of their life. Perhaps Nietzsche's Übermensch isn't such a far-fetched idea, as if treating others as equals instead of stepping stones to bettering ourselves is a hamartia of the worst kind.

Don't misunderstand me. There are always some people who seem to be appreciative of genuine goodness, but by and large, the majority stands in stark opposition to it so I wonder if it's worth it? Do I get over this god-awful guilt complex of mine and head down the road (Frost's poem is highly ironic anyway making it highly apt for this rant) which seems to bring more good things than bad? Or is it worth it to stick with what seems to only lead from one miserable failure to the next hoping in the end it actually pans out and I made the right choice? For whatever reason, a life of misery doesn't sound terribly appealing. For whatever reason.

God knows I just want to be happy and content with what I do. It's not as if I'm demanding to do something spectacular like being the mediator of world peace, or being the first man on Mars, or inventing the cure for acne or chlamydia. God knows I don't fucking know anything and I know even less about what I want in life besides those two things. I was never the highly ambitious sort. God knows I can't help but think maybe I've been mistaken all this time about how to go about my life. About how to deal with -- better yet, use -- my fellow man. But god knows I'm usually wrong so no surprise there.

I'll admit maybe I'm just looking at this from a completely jackknifed angle. I wouldn't be surprised if I'm absolutely misreading the whole situation. Yet it wouldn't surprise me if the reverse was true either. Hell, maybe things would actually start going my way again. Maybe I'd actually get some of the things I actually care about in life instead of having them slip through my fingers time and again.

Something has to give sooner or later. Or maybe it doesn't. I'm unsure how many of the cliches I've used so far actually hold true anymore, but the meek inheriting the earth seems to be more ridiculous more and more. And I swear there's no way I can be more self-loathing if I'm a dick and get what I want than I already am with myself. I can't even imagine.

You can't fault a kid for wanting to be happy, even if he has to look in places where he never thought he'd find it.

This can't be right can it? Even with all of the evidence pointing to the contrary . . . ? I have a feeling I'll be calling bullshit, whatever happens.

Stability

"Time for the final bout.
Rows of deserted houses.
All our stable mates highway-bound.
Give us our measly sum.
Getting the air inside my lungs is heavenly.
Starting out with nothing but crippling doubt.
We'll rest easy, justified.
Suffered a swift defeat.
I'll endure countless repeats.
The gift of memory's an awful curse -- with age it just gets much worse.
I won't mind."

I'm probably crazy

There's a void in my life. I think I've known what it was for quite a while now, but I've tried to ignore it. Or scorn it. Or hide from it.

Ultimately, I have no responsibility. Id est, I'm irresponsible.

Unfortunately, my parents love me too much and are worried nigh to death about me. Thus they say nothing. Unfortunately, my brothers also seem to love me too much and have taken the older brother position a little too seriously in protecting their youngest of kin. Thus they say nothing. Unfortunately, I don't tell my friends shit about what's going on in my life, except for the overarching, yet discriminately vague my-life's-in-shambles-I-need-some-goddamn-pie-let's-hang-out. Thus they say nothing.

Why the fuck would I care what a complete stranger thinks of what I'm doing with my life? Not that I've really met anyone with whom I'm relatively unacquainted with who has told me such. Regardless, it's principle. Therefore, their opinions mean nothing to me. This leaves me with few, if any, options of sources who could potentially be helpful.

Moving on. . . there's nothing for me to work towards. Nothing hinges on me. If I do nothing at all nothing catastrophic will happen. Now, I'm not trying to say I've got a god complex or that I need to be a totalitarian in order to be satisfied with myself. I am saying, however, that I need something that is dependent on me. It doesn't need to be large scale, but, at the same time, it can't be too small either. A job won't do then. Even if it was my own company I built from the beginning. Work will come and go -- much too fleeting for my selfish demands.

Education isn't the answer. It centers too much on my intrinsic betterment, but is circular in purpose. Learning feeds on itself. You can never learn enough and be done with it. Sure, it would take up my time and take my being mind off of things while additionally being wholly dependent on me, but it still doesn't deal with the looming issue: that whole responsibility thing.

Essentially, inanimate objects aren't things to be genuinely worried about. I mean, I would love have a perfect little house with everything just right in it, and then. . . what? Acquire more possessions? More belongings? I don't want to end up hording everything like a squirrel. Animals, while cute and cuddly and mostly faithful, don't fill this gap. Maybe I'm just biased, but (sometimes) logical human beings are more important to me than some other creature. Call me crazy, but I do hold my species in higher regard than any other, even though I'm occasionally misanthropic.

So. People are important. This is good. This is a step in the right direction. Yet I'm thinking it's not so much people, but person. Going along with that, the general attitude here is to get married. Find your soulmate. While this wouldn't be a bad thing, per se, as it would thrust some responsibility upon me, it's not nearly permanent enough or a sure enough thing, I guess, seeing as how the divorce rate seems to be as high as the marriage rate now.

Hyperbole. Sue me. People get over each other. Love can fade. Friendships end. We move on. What then?

Um. There definitely appears to be people who are utterly, completely, and thoroughly dependent on someone. This answer would be a child.

Yes. A child.

True, they can be taken from their parents by child services. True, they could look after themselves if needed at a remarkably young age (as I was witness in a documentary about Romanian orphans). True, they grow up and lose this dependency and become independent, uncaring, 27-year olds who still live at home.

Dammit, nothing's perfect.

Seriously, a child is all the responsibility a person could ever dream of inflicting upon anyone. You become responsible for someone's life. You could seriously fuck them up if you don't take it seriously. It's playing god on a small scale, so maybe I do have a god complex. In my diseased mind, this makes complete and perfect sense.

Now, I'm not going to rush out and knock up some chick just to satiate this somewhat odd desire. Maybe my biological clock is ticking but I was under the impression that distinction belonged to the gender without a Y-chromosome. Furthermore, it's a flawed idea because this is such a selfish thing I want. Yes, I would hope that I raise the child well and that he/she will be happy, but it's all stemmed from wanting to remove this rancored abscess that my life has festered into and just drain it all away.

Flush it out and start over from a cleaner standpoint. Lance the wound so it can heal. I've focused on myself for long enough now, and I'm tired of being so consistently selfish. Yeah, yeah, woe is me.

I want something pure and unadulterated, untouched by the world. I want full responsibility over another life when I can't deal with my own. I want a purpose. And it scares the hell out of me.

Addendum: I love rereading at a later date how fantastically incoherent and absurd these little posts of mine are.