“It’s Not An Adventure.”

Drunk ramblings.
(That’s right, the alcoholic has figured out how to walk right up to that line and still get by in public. There’s no way THAT will go wrong, right? ….but I digress. That’s not today’s topic.)

Watching an Opportunity Rover video.

I am not made for this. I am made to find new things. See new places that no one has seen before. That’s just barely still possible on earth. That kind of adventure…..that’s what I am made for. Where can I find it?

I keep coming back to this:

Here’s the text (but you really should listen to Susan Sarandon’s delivery in the video. That’s right. Susan-fucking-Sarandon is Dr. Wong.):

Rick, the only connection between your unquestionable intelligence and the sickness destroying your family is that everyone in your family, you included, use intelligence to justify sickness.

You seem to alternate between viewing your own mind as an unstoppable force and as an inescapable curse. And I think it’s because the only truly unapproachable concept for you is that it’s your mind within your control. You chose to come here, you chose to talk -to belittle my vocation- just as you chose to become a pickle.

You are the master of your universe, and yet you are dripping with rat blood and feces. Your enormous mind literally vegetating by your own hand.

I have no doubt that you would be bored senseless by therapy, the same way I’m bored when I brush my teeth and wipe my ass. Because the thing about repairing, maintaining, and cleaning is it’s not an adventure. There’s no way to do it so wrong you might die. It’s just work. And the bottom line is, some people are okay going to work, and some people well, some people would rather die.

Each of us gets to choose.

Each of us gets to choose. — That’s a hell of a phrase.

It feels like this is important. It feels like this explains something, like I should have some kind of revelation in this. I’m just not sure what that is. But it feels unbearably True.

I think I am one of those latter people.

“…some people are okay going to work, and some people well, some people would rather die.”

I’m one of those who would rather die. I’ve said it before, but at some point I used the flippant phrase, “I would rather die” and I meant it in ways that most people never do. And that’s a choice, to MEAN that. It’s a choice to take such a position. I don’t see how I can make another choice, but it’s a choice none-the-less.

I DO think of my mind as both “an unstoppable force and an inescapable curse.” I am the Master of my own Universe, and yet I find myself “damaged”, “useless”, “homeless”, “worthless”. It’s tempting to think that I simply haven’t found my “place” but that’s just bullshit too. It’s a prevarication that doesn’t actually help or further the situation at all. I am IN this situation by my own choices; by my own actions and influence. I am here because of my own decisions. I really don’t blame anyone else. My unstoppable mind has put me here.

So what does that mean? Does that MEAN anything?

And the idea of “Adventure”….challenge, quest, story…

“…the thing about repairing, maintaining, and cleaning is it’s not an adventure.”

The only way I’ve been able to limp-along for THIS long is by trying to frame difficulties as “adventures”. And I’m not sure that can last forever. I think, eventually, the mundane “work” of life is going to demand attention, more than it already does — more than the laundry, or the grocery store, or the post office — and it will be too much for me. Eventually, I will be destroyed by those mundanitie.

And I think I WANT to be destroyed by them. I want to be done. I want a half-way decent reason to be done.

Broken Windows, Broken Person

They broke in. It was probably just a matter of time.

I was inside the restaurant getting some food and using the internet. My Jeep was in the parking lot. I could’ve seen it out the window, if I’d been looking. But I was working through a tutorial, trying to learn something, trying to do better.

I came outside, ready to go try and find a place to sleep… There was glass everywhere. There was glass in my bedding and on my pillow. Both passenger side windows destroyed. Several of my bags taken. Hard drives, irreplaceable data stores, more huge chunks of my life, some books and papers, …They took my gym bag with my daily-use stuff in it. …The stole my toothbrush. Why does that hurt so much?

Now what do I do? I filed a police report online, because the police told me to do it that way and wouldn’t even come out to help me. They can’t do anything about this.

I covered the empty windows with packing tape… Because that’s what the internet suggested. I’m such a nerd that I have to Google how to cover broken vehicle windows. It’ll never hold up with the rain in the approaching forecast.

Now what do I do? I filed an insurance claim through the stupid app. I’ll call them tomorrow so I can talk to a real fucking person and get the details straight. I’ll have to get it inspected, find a place to do repairs, hope they can get it done in one day because I have no where to go and this is my home. If it takes longer, where do I go? Can I live in a tiny rental-mobile? Oh, and it’s a $500 deductible…so there’s that which I cannot afford. (Eventually the credit card will fill up. It will. It really will.)

Now what do I do? Another piece of my fragile sense of security and capability is torn away. How can I ever let my Jeep out of my sight again? I have to defend it. I have to kill anyone who touches it. …But I’ll have to. I’ll still have to park it and go inside places.

It doesn’t stop. There’s no end of pain in all the world. There’s no end of horrible, shitty people. There’s no way out. There never was. What the fuck an I even doing? Why the fuck am I even still here? Fuck the whole world.

Expensive Day

A day of terrible failure.

I awoke in the parking lot of some hotel and I casually went inside to enjoy a continental breakfast that no one at all suspected I had no right to. As I walked into the courtyard to take advantage of a badly secured door, I noticed two police-like vehicles not 5 spaces from me. And on the way out again, I actually passed the officers with my best “I Belong Here” greeting. they didn’t have a clue. That’s the part of the day that went right.

But then I started my Jeep, and the engine light came on immediately. I only had a short drive to the gym, so I went there and got some good work done. I came out and… the engine light was still on. Panic. Absolute fear. Not my baby. My faithful steed can’t fail. It can’t. I will be utterly lost if that happens.

I found a PepBoys and had them look at it. It turned out to be very minor, but the diagnostics for that took hours and cost far, far too much. Oh, and I need new tires. That’s not going to happen today. During that time I could only walk, and there wasn’t much nearby. I walked almost all day. I found a buffet that I could stay in for a while. Of course that cost much more than I was ready to spend as well.

And I got nothing done all day. No electronics charged. No applications submitted. So here, at the end, after going to 5 different places, I find a TGIFridays that has internet and will let me plug in for a little while. I can’t just sit here though. I have to order something. More money I can’t afford. And not near enough time. I can’t get any work done because the server is swinging by, “interacting” every three minutes. And it’s so loud. It’s a damn sports-bar restaurant on a Friday, of course it’s loud. And, while it’s not full-crowded this early on a Friday, I AM still taking up her table and I am conscious of that. I’ll need to tip her well…. again, with money I can’t afford.

In the end, this day cost too damn much. I’m hemorrhaging currency. I need a tourniquet. I should have been more strict. I shouldn’t have indulged. The vehicle care would still have been the bulk of it, but I might not feel like such a complete failure for “indulging”. I can’t even enjoy the food—more than I’ve had for weeks—because it’s just weakness that I should have resisted.

I have to get out of here. My power packs are mostly charged, my phone too. I can’t sit here and nurse a water any longer. What an ass I am. Twilight is coming on, I can go find a hiding spot. Good times Friday night. Maybe I can watch a movie on my laptop… if I can hide the flickering screen well enough.

Ain’t Nobody Got Time For This…

Ya know what? You’re right.

It’s all just a broken record. Same shit. Same empty, repeating day. Everyone get’s fed-up with this litany eventually. Including me. Especially me. You all have the option though. Scroll past. Unsub. Unfollow. Delete forever. I’ll sink back into the interwebs. Go do it, it’s for the best. You don’t need this crap. You can get away from the bullshit. You have a way out.

I don’t.
Or maybe I just stop writing again for another year or two.
It’s apparently not helping at all. It’s just twisted masochism.
But there’s no getting away. Not really.

Take right now, for example. I HATE being out in public right now. I hate being seen. I can’t bear the insistent exposure to all of these people. And there’s nowhere else to go. I’m only allowed to be HERE because I bought a cup of coffee. I could go to a public park, more people. I could go to a Walmart, or a mall, endless streaming people. I could go to a library, still people. I have already been to the gym, but I suppose I could go again… people, and shitty music, and people. There’s people walking past the windows outside, people talking on phones, people filling the roads, endless seas of humanity. All of them with a PLACE, and I resent every single one of them.

I’m thinking of going to just find a place to park for the night. It’s WAY too early for that, only mid-afternoon. I have to kill several more hours, at least until it starts to get dark. Setting up this early means I risk being noticed and thrown-out/harassed/run-off, but that’s all I’ve got. I just want to curl-up in a ball and die. I have to kill my brain, make it stop yammering at me. — Oh, but alcohol is out of the question. For one, can’t afford it. But more importantly, I have to stay paranoid and aware. I have to be ready to defend myself if someone messes with me, or ready to drive away and find a new place to park if I get rousted. I live in a kind of war-zone right now. So no drinking. …and that’s it’s own problem.

I actually thought about getting a real hotel room for the night. Live like a normal person, just for a few hours? Ha! That is absolutely not going to happen.

There, look at that: tearing up in a public coffee-shop. Completely unacceptable. I look out the window as if there’s something terrifically interesting in the parking lot. Quick eye movements to try and disperse the useless flood. There they are, the sidelong glances of people suddenly uncomfortable with unexpected displays of public distress. Now I have to endure, not just their eyes, but their THOUGHTS on me too.

I’m in the middle of a city… several cities… and no place of my own. So much space! And nothing except the inside of my jeep, my ever-faithful, endlessly loyal jeep. Every time I park where I’m really not supposed to “live”, I worry about it. I will do murder to protect it.

Neither of us has much of an option at this time.

Oh, but you do. Just skip this shit.
Ain’t nobody got time for this bullshit.

New Perspective

I’m sitting in a Panera Bread restaurant. It’s rainy outside and I can sit here most of the day to use the internet. I can also buy one coffee and just get refills all day. Wonderful place, Panera Bread. The food is a touch pricey, so I really only allow myself one sandwich per week. I just can’t justify it otherwise.

One table over, an obese business man ordered a sandwich. The item arrived and he took a bite. But then he get’s up, and complains that the sandwich isn’t quite what he ordered. A server comes out, checks the receipt and confirms that a mistake has been made. As the server starts to take the plate away, the man says “Well, I already took a bite out of it. What are you gonna do with it now? …But I ordered [XYZ] so I need to get that from you.” The server walks away, probably to ask his manager what to do, and then comes back to leave the offending order on the table for the man, who proceeds to eat it anyway, despite being so unacceptable. A few minutes later the server brings out a second plate with the correct sandwich on it. The man finishes stuffing his face with the first, and then immediately wolfs down the second.

I haven’t eaten today. Well, mostly. I hit the gym this morning so I had a protein shake and I’ve been going through the coffee here at the shop. (Protip: Caffeine is great for suppressing appetite.) I was just looking at the menu up there, debating, and I ultimately decided that I couldn’t afford what was up there. I’ve already had my one splurge-meal over the weekend last. I have a little bit of peanut butter left in the vehicle. I’ll eat that for dinner a bit later.

And you know what? He didn’t do anything wrong. He doesn’t know me or my situation anymore than he does the other people in here. He’s just kindof an asshole. Being an asshole isn’t illegal. In fact, he got two-for-the-price-of-one on fairly expensive sandwiches! That’s just smart business, right? That’s why he’s the CEO-type and I’m the vagabond.

I watched him walk to his Prius, and in my minds-eye I vividly saw myself follow him, and crush his skull with a tire iron. The only difference between me and a psychopath is one of follow-through and conviction.

The point is this: If nothing else, I am getting a little bit of a new perspective out of this. And it’s really only lowering my opinion of general, everyday-humanity. Maybe the next time you see a person on the street-corner, get ’em a taco or something.