The case for zipping through life

If my blog has any sort of theme, it would be the struggle against a world defined by it's oppressive conformity and lack of inspiration. I know a lot of people feel this way, but I'm obsessed with it. Partly, because I'm a loner and prefer not to spend a lot of time in public, partly because I'm homesick and am probably exhibiting an exaggerated reaction to the monotonous drone of daily existence but mostly because the world really is severely lacking inspiration.

As a kid, I used to imagine working for a big company in a bigger city, drinking in the culture and nightlife like some kind of nectar. I got what I wanted, as I always do. Almost immediately, I went off it, as I always do, also. The problem is when I look deeply at anything, it's flaws become magnified and I can't focus on anything else.

Another way of putting that is that I'm a negative fuck with a debilitating allergy to any form of happiness.

I spend a big portion of my weekdays and weekends, wishing I could fast forward through the boring, insipid parts of life. Since I'm more jaded than a vase in a Ming dynasty palace, a big portion of my day seems composed of just such boring, insipid moments. I could put my time to better use, of course, and avoid boredom, apathy and ennui, but the simple answer is that I can't. I'm not able to. I can't see the joy in avoidance.

-The last time I had sex was March. Before that, it was October.
-The last movie I went to the movies was January: Block Party.
-The last time I looked deep into a girl's eyes and thought I was happy was late 2002. Though I probably didn't realise it, at the time.
-The last time I slept well was over a year ago. On time, restfully, woke up feeling refreshed.
-The last time I was excited to go somewhere was over two years ago. I took a trip to California, over the 4th of July weekend to meet a girl. She was nice but there was no chemistry.
-The last time I heard news that got me so excited I felt my heart was going to leap from my chest, was July 7, 1998: I got a letter from the State Department telling me I'd been selected to move to the US under their Diversity Immigrant Program.

I get everything I ask for, which has placed me in a curious position. Sometimes, I pray and when I do, I ask for things. Lately, I've been having trouble verbalising my requests. I know what I want but I'm afraid to ask for it. In case I get it and it disappoints. Or, is fraught with unseen complications. Or, a harbringer of even more complications.

If you work hard, and you're smart, and you have enough desire (or as the English call it "Bottle"), anything you set a course to, you'll get. Hard work and blind luck combine to reward the person who shows up (and 90% of success, as Woody Allen says, is showing up), so the danger isn't in missing out on what you want. Nope, it's in not working hard enough or smart enough or wanting it badly enough. Worse, it's in getting it and realising that it wasn't what you wanted. That's the danger. Then, you become despondent because you know it will take you several more months before you can identify something else you can spend months coveting.

Last night, I was out smoking in front of my house. My hot neighbor walked out, on her way to the gym. She threw a throwaway hello in my direction (presumably one of the duller ones, she had no intention of keeping). A pallid hello, dull, disiniterested and uninspired. A hello which sounds like it was inspired by looking at me and getting a whiff of my questionable energy.

I don't have the balls to approach this girl, straight up and invite her out for a cup of coffee. Because, I'm not convinced of my own case, in terms of dating her. And if I can't convince myself, I won't convince her. I know I'm capable of better (read: I have it in me) but I also know I've lost the ability to tap into my strengths and use them to dazzle the brunette who lives in 3R and make her want to be a part of my vibe. Maybe I'll reclaim it but drastic changes are needed.

After she left, my mind drifted again towards the thought of fast-forwarding life, until I get to a more interesting period: maybe a time when I've jogged for 3 months straight and the only love handle I have left is the one between my legs. Maybe a few weeks down the line when I have a positive balance in my checking account. Maybe it's as simple as fast forwarding to a time when Brain Chemical A mixes with Hormone B and gives me back an elixir that can tap into my due abilities and my undue confidence. If I could count on my moods not to swing or my mania not to get depressed, I'd trust my own abilities more. Because they wouldn't be obscured at random, based on who-knows-what as they are now.

I keep getting side-tracked. As I sat there, I saw a firefly and I'd never seen one before. Every few seconds, it lit up into a green neon flame. I always thought fireflies would light up in a white flame, so this was new to me. My point is, if I had been Plato, this is the kind of story that would have inspired me and convinced me of all the wondrous things you could miss if you fast forward. But I'm not Plato. I'm me. I understand what I thought, I understood the message being delivered..but I just don't buy it.