Last night we went out for Chinese food. I love fried dumplings. As I turned one over and picked it up with my chopsticks I saw that it looked JUST like the symbol for Wedjat (the Egyptian Eye of Horus).
It was cool looking. I pondered this for just about as long as it takes me to lift a dumpling from the plate to my mouth. I didn’t take a picture of it, I didn’t sell it on e-Bay, I didn’t think it was a miracle. Hell, it was barely even worth mentioning to the other people at the table.
Just who are these people that see Jesus in a piece of toast, the Virgin Mary in a blueberry muffin or Xenu in a taco? I see an ancient goddess in a dumpling and it’s cute. They see an ancient god in a road sign and it’s a miracle that changes their life!
What’s the ranking system for delusional imaging? Who rates? The Tinker Toys forming the boogyman under your bed or your old prom dress looking like a Saint protecting you from your bedroom closet. An ancient face on the surface of Mars, a Jesus-shaped oil stain in your driveway. Demonic face in the 9/11 clouds, a standing cross in the 9/11 debris field…
And imagine that, two 110 story buildings filled with straight lines and almost nothing BUT perpendicular crossbeams and somehow the symbol of the Christian cross just happened to show up in the rubble. What are the odds? Fuck that, what are the odds of it NOT happening…
There’s a Rush lyric playing through my head, “If you choose not to decide, you still have made a choice.”
Some people really want you to be happy. Some people are willing to forego their own desires in an attempt to make you happy. This can be very sweet, this can be really annoying. Especially when you get several of these people in the same room and ask for a decision. It can actually turn ugly.
When everyone wants everyone else to be happy, it can turn into a pretty miserable experience. One of constant second-guessing and hesitation. Sometimes this is the actions of the aggressive pleaser and sometimes the answer really is, “I don’t have a preference.”
So when the day gives you a late start, born of passive individuals with an insufficient agenda, it’s up to you to decide if the person is naturally passive or is really just out of ideas for the moment. And then it’s up to you to take charge, make a decision.
And when someone complains that they didn’t enjoy themselves, that they have more fun elsewhere, it’s up to you to say, “Fuck ‘em, should have spoken up when I asked. At least I enjoyed myself.”
You can not be responsible for every non-decisive person’s happiness if they won’t let you.
You know why I love you? Yes, you! The one who still reads this drivel…
I love you because we understand each other. I spout off, I say nasty things, I make wild exaggerations, gross generalizations…
I say, “Fuck all the people in the world with food allergies!” and though a single peanut could kill you, you know I don’t mean “fuck you”.
I say, “Let’s kill all the lawyers!” and though you spent years studying and just passed the bar exam, you don’t object to my outburst.
I say, “People suck!” and you agree with me that yes, some people do suck and you also know I agree with you that most people are alright.
You hear me rant and you just smile and quietly say to yourself, “Later on, he’ll calm down and realize just how silly he sounds right now.”
Thanks for knowing me better than I know myself…
You ever feel like you’re in a glass jar, floating in some kind of clear liquid, watching yourself from afar?
You ever want to sit up all night and watch yourself wake up in the morning?
Have the gods, the fates and all random actions conspired against you to keep you silent? You know they can’t right?
Where is my permanent record? The one they kept telling me they were recording and filing my every wrong move?
I am just like you. Our differences are superficial. I look different, I kiss differently, I may even smell funny to you. But we’re both floating along, unaware of how little it takes to be happy and how insignificant we are. If we truly don’t matter in the grand scheme of the universe, then why would it matter if we were happy or sad? And if it doesn’t matter… Then why choose to be sad?
Most times, it’s not as easy as just choosing to be happy.
But then sometimes it really is
just
that
easy…
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