I just want to write angry. I want to write listening to a Miley Cyrus song about cussing out an ex with texting acronyms. Sometimes when things get shitty, you just have to violently unzip your laptop case and type out something, anything, until you realize you’re mashing the keys way too hard and your sentences are barely coherent. So then you edite edit and start typing again.
The song that just came on was acoustic. Skip. Miley Cyrus, again. I’m not sure why it feels so right to listen to Miley when I’m typing angry, but damn it, it does.
There are some days where things just aren’t going to work for you, and more often than not (at least in my case), things go well for a significant period of time, then the Earth says, “oh, hey there, been a while”, and (I apologize for the vulgarity) decides to drop massive amounts of excretion on you and everything that you touch. The dryers don’t work properly, Mr. Prius is failing me, and the wifi is faulty as ever. Things just aren’t working well for me right now, but the thing that I find myself thinking is that I should definitely be angrier about what’s happening, but my initial anger has already almost faded into nothing.
I’m not sure if I actually think my situation is funny, or I’m laughing out of frustration, but I sure have been laughing in the last hour, and that’s sure as hell better than not laughing. Sure, I wish that things worked out a tad more in my favor, but one: life will continue on, two: the way that I dealt with my problems was pretty entertaining because my own antics constantly surprise me (ex. the sprinkler pipe is now my clothes dryer). I started this post intending for it to come off a lot angrier, but the things that happened to me are so un-horrible in the scheme of things that it would feel quite silly to actually sulk about it. If you take your situation and turn it around a little, maybe flip it once or twice, you might find that it’ll be alright soon enough, and if you laugh excessively like me, you’ll probably giggle a little in the process.
Life happens seven days a week. I feel like some people forget that. It seems that way too often people get caught up in the idea that it’s fine to just turn the autopilot on for the chunk of the days that they don’t exactly enjoy (i.e. school, job), as if life pauses for those seven or eight hours a day. You don’t necessarily have to be productive, you just have to be there. Being present should not be a conditional phrase.
Existence does not pause. The Earth is a practically a living entity in itself, never ceasing it’s processes deep within its core, up to the surface that we inhabit. If the Earth paused, if the Earth stopped rotating, if convection cells stopped moving, if the core stopped heating, slowly, the inhabitants of the planet would begin to die off. There would be catastrophic consequences if the Earth decided to simply be present one day, but productivity wasn’t necessary.
We are our own planets. We sustain something that is greater than us. Effort from humans is imperative from individual to global scale. We have a minute period of time that we, in the truest form of you and me to today, will exist on this Earth, and to wish your hours away is a sad condition that needs to be changed. Every second, every minute, every hour is precious, which might sound hackneyed, but it is so incredibly true.
There is always something you can make better about yourself and the world around you. If you live in a way where you are finding the good in the world, and putting more of it into the universe, no time will ever be wasted. Don’t judge your use of time on numbers, numbers are a concept that humans created for scientific/selfish means. Be present.
When I was younger, I used to do this exercise where I would try to think as far into the future as I possibly could until I would get bored thinking myself into oblivion. I remember very clearly how I thought life would turn out for me in high school and college when I was young.
It didn’t turn out the way that I thought it would.
It took me so long to grasp the idea that I wouldn’t ever be able to predict the future. I was so sure that one day I would dream the major events that would occur in my life, or that one day something would seize my body and force me to start painting the event where I would have to save a bus load of people, then I would have to decipher the date and fulfill my fate. Oddly enough, I never did acquire the ability to see into the future, consciously or otherwise. I think I finally started to get the idea of the permanent unpredictability of life when I arrived at college. College was so little how I expected it to be, and so little how I expected to react to it, that it was kind of jarring. The first week of my college career was the biggest reality check I have ever had smack me in the face. I fell into a routine. Things became more normal, but then not at all. Around he third month of college I began actively dissuading myself from trying to look into my faulty crystal ball.
About 10 times a day, this would be what would happen in my brain:
“This is probably going to ha-, No, Oona. It very well might not. You do not have super powers, nor will you ever.”
That sounds like I was being harsh to my brain, but when your brain acts like a small child, you have to treat it like a small child.
After 2 months or so of constantly chastising my brain, I started to fantasize less and focus on future plans rather than how things would pan out. The amount of benefit trying to envision how exactly your relationships and ventures will turn out is exactly zero, maybe in the negatives. Making solid plans for the future is how you progress because they are concrete, rather than being built on maybe’s. Delusion is a slippery slope, where if you slip, it becomes very easy to lose hope, and increasingly difficult to climb back up again.
Make solid plans. Live in the present for the present, and the future will come.
God, it’s so easy to backspace. Writing is like a hiatus from real life.
If I want to, I can make whatever I type exactly the way I want to. Sometimes, emotions get in the way of being excessively meticulous, but the option for (relative) perfection is always present in writing.
God, it is so easy to screw up.
You can always try to go back and fix whatever mistake you made, but you’re going to have to overlap letters. The first letter will always be there. But you can always try to remedy mistakes, and that’s certainly better than never trying.
It’s easy to get lost in yourself if you obsess over the possibility that you’ll make a mistake. Sometimes you just have to throw yourself into the fire, and hope that you’ll come out with 1st degree burns instead of 3rd, and I don’t mean that in a pessimistic way.
Taking chances means accepting the possibility that you might make a mistake, that someone else might, that you might get hurt.
There’s no happiness in always living safe. That’s what the progression of society has taught you is the ultimate goal- safety.
The trap will certainly keep you from any major burns, but you will perish long before your physical body will.