Friday morning, after my behavior, attitude and outlook had put my wife in a really bad mood, and before she left for work, something happened.
I said, “You know. It really sucks when you’re so angry and you’re about to step out the door and go directly to work. That’s the absolute worst, isn’t it?”
If looks could kill. That look made my blood run so cold it’s still not back up to room temperature yet.
Then she threw down the gauntlet.
She said, “I’m sick of your bullshit, Tom. Everyone hates their jobs. No one wants to live through that, then go read a blog about someone else hating their job, too. It might be mildly funny for a post or two, but then it just gets sad and really sucks. I have to hear you talk about it when it happens. Then you talk about it when you’re writing about it. Then I have to read about it. Then you quiz me to see if I’ve read it. Then you talk about it for a few more days.”
“This can’t continue,” she added.
I had to admit she had a point. But if I eliminate work as a topic, what then? It’s not like I can write a lot of interesting blog entries about coming home and staring hours on end at four bare walls. I don’t know. Maybe I should try that. It may very well be more interesting. Welcome to the all new Four Bare Walls Blog. Our inaugural post: “Walls are merely limited sections of infinite planes.” Ooh. That sounds exciting to me.
And so, without further ado, here is today’s post. I was already struggling for an idea while staring at those four bare walls to come up with something – anything! – for this post. Now the level of difficulty has really been ratcheted up. We all know that I’m a sucker for dares.
Have you ever sat around and thought to yourself, “I wonder if I’m insane?”
That’s usually the moment when some pompous jerk comes along and says, “If you have the ability to ask yourself that question, that probably proves you are saner than the rest of us!”
God, I hate that asshole. And how the fuck is he reading my thoughts? So I kick him in the nards. Then some other asshole comes along and tells me that the first guy never existed and my foot is now stuck in a wall.
Damn, you can’t trust anyone these days.
But, yeah, I do wonder about my sanity quite a bit. Thinking about it this morning I came to a bit of a realization. If you spend about 80% of your counting your own marbles you just might have a problem on your hands.
It’s not that I’m paranoid. I know for a fact that everyone is out to get me. So I’m naturally a bit defensive. As an atheist I enjoy feeling the forces of evolution working within me. Someone approaches from around the corner? It is safer to assume they are an enemy than a friend. And that’s pure evolution, baby. Those who tended towards optimism in those situations tended to get eaten by saber-toothed cats more often so they didn’t pass on their genes.
See? A propensity towards negativity is healthy and may even save your life.
This is kinda sorta part one. Part two, if it ever exists might come later. Or not.
Old adage: write what you know. You know suck, blow, poop. Just don’t get them in the wrong order…unless you have unlimited access to Listerine. 😉
Thanks. I suspect you are correct. I gotta be me. And I’m going to be the best me I can be.
Somehow you just wrote the words from my bottle of shampoo, too. “Suck, blow, poop. Rinse. Repeat.”
If you can wonder whether you’re insane, then you are quite sane, my friend. But don’t take my word for it, I’m crazy.
It’s hard not to write about angry topics when you are Mr. Abyss. But you can switch to the Abyss of Bliss!
I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.
I feel lucky that my imaginary friend is also insane. You might be on to something there.
The voices told me to stop wondering.
I have a bumper sticker hanging in my kitchen (where else would I put it??) that reads “Insanity takes its toll…please have exact change.”
Awesome bumper sticker. One that I’d be proud to put on my car.
I made a wee mistake with this post, methinks. I pulled back the curtain and allowed you all to see the wizard. I’ll try hard to not let that happen again.
I see your wife’s point. Writing about your job and how much it sucks should be cathartic. Get it out so you can move on type of thing. But, if you are still dwelling on it after you have written about it, then that is counter-productive. You shouldn’t dwell on it, anyway. It’s bad for your constitution. (and your marriage, as the case may be).
I’ll never expect you to be Mary Sunshine (partly because then you’d be a girl and that’s just weird), but you should find topics to write about that improve your mood so it is easier to face your soul-crushing job on a daily basis (if you can’t tell, I’m speaking from experience, here).
You may not know this about me, but I’m still dwelling about something that happened during the third grade. And it’s still ruining my life. 🙂
Topics that improve my mood? Hmm. I’ll have to think about that. I didn’t realize you guys wanted such gruesome stuff. I keed, I keed.
P.S. I don’t normally like to correct comments but I believe the word you was “catheter.” You’re welcome!
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