Sunday, September 6, 2015

No way out

                                   We have no choice to come into the world, yet the only way to opt out of it is frowned upon, and usually attempts are physically thwarted. Suicide. I understand that sometimes, maybe in most cases, the thoughts of killing oneself is the product of curable or treatable mental illness... but not always. There are people who have genuinely good reasons to take that option. If someone is terminally ill, or in the case of my mother, has multiple medical conditions that slowly whittle away at their quality of life, and that of those around her. If my mother were to come to me and ask me to end her life, or help her end her own life, I would like to think I would. Yes, I would be sad, and miss her for a long time, but I'd know she's not hurting anymore.
                                For some mental illnesses with no cure, I think suicide is a viable option as well. The decision, however should not be made lightly. I have had suicidal thoughts for years now, and I fully intend to take that option at a point I find convenient, and have the means. With the various neuroses I have (you know many if you've read the other entries) I cannot be happy. I don't realistically see myself ever becoming happy in this world.
                               We are thrown into this world, then forced to take part in it, with little to no hope of ever changing anything. I understand the emotional aspect of not wanting someone you care about to go away. But isn't it selfish to force that person to continue to suffer for your benefit? They had no choice to be a part of this broken world, and likely had little to do with how they turned out. Who would choose to become an addict? Who would choose to have cancer? Let them go. If you truly love them, let them go. I know it's probably not that easy, as I am saying this with no experience losing a loved one to suicide, just as someone who has decided to do it, but I would not want a friend or family member to continue to suffer on my account.
                               If you are a family member of mine who has found my red notebook with the URL to this blog written in the cover after I'm gone, I truly am sorry if I caused you any pain by leaving. Just know I am not suffering any longer, and I wish you a long and happy life, if that's what you choose to have. If you found the URL and I'm still alive, shame on you for violating my privacy, but that's ok. Talk to me about it, and I'll try to explain if you give me a chance.

Monday, August 10, 2015

Coerced apologies are not apologies at all

I hate Donald Trump... I REALLY hate Donald Trump. However, I must admire the fact that he doesn't apologize for being a massive dillhole.
When someone makes a racist, sexist, or otherwise offensive comment, and is cause for outrage of the masses, an apology is often demanded. When given, after that, it is not a genuine apology... It's relenting to bullies. People have the right to be assholes. They are not, on the other hand, immune to criticism. If you have something you want to say, say it. If someone demands an apology, don't give one. If someone says something you don't like, respond. Don't just demand an apology, challenge them on their statement.

Wednesday, April 15, 2015

Another irrelevant story from my childhood

   When I was about nine or ten, my cousins lived about 2 hours away. I loved hanging out with them. They were like brothers to me. Still are, even though it's been years since I've seen one of them... That doesn't really matter for this story. The point is, I went to visit them for a week one summer. To get there, I had to ride alone with my uncle the whole way. To this day, I don't know why I was so scared of him. He was an awesome guy, he was like a second father to me. Anyway, on the way, we had to pick up a load of firewood and put it in the trailer he was hauling. It was a makeshift plywood and steel bed frame trailer he and my dad put together a couple years before. As we were loading the trailer, the bolts on the back of the trailer broke (or the wood broke, I don't remember, doesn't matter), leaving the trailer unevenly balanced and it was soon going to break the bolts that remain if we were to pull it as-is. He was pretty upset, he really liked that trailer. He was about to abandon it. I got the idea to unload most of the wood and leave the largest pieces of wood over the broken section to keep it in place using gravity. He called me a genius several times, and we tried it. It worked. The rest of the week he expressed how proud and thankful he was to me. No one ever had expressed that to me before.
      Before and never since have I had any real confidence in my abilities.  Every time I tried to build it, my father would crap all over my self worth. My mother tried sometimes, but all her praise always sounded hollow and meaningless.
      About 2 years ago, my uncle died. The last few years I didn't talk to him at all. Not because I was mad at him for anything, but because we lived so far apart, and we weren't all that close since they moved out of state when I was in junior high.
      I know this has nothing to do with anarchism or anti-political stuff, but I don't really care. No one reads this anyway. I don't have anything unique to say on the subject, anyway.

Sunday, March 1, 2015

Let me tell you about my parents...

Before I go off on a rant, I want to say, they never beat me, and I never went hungry. I know I was luckier than some, but other than that, my parents sucked.

Earliest memory: Every morning, I had to get myself to school. From kindergarten to first grade. Well, let me amend that... my friend's mom drove me most mornings. There were some days she couldn't, but most mornings Kim (his mom) was there for me. Looking back, she wasn't mother of the year either, one kid in diapers at 7 years old, another my age who smoked behind the parking lot wall, both from different fathers. But she was there. That counted for me.

The next year, we moved. I had to get myself to school... really, this time. I had to make my own lunches, get myself out of bed, get myself dressed, and walk to school (1/4 mile is a long way for a little kid). One morning (it may have been my first day, thinking about it) I forgot to put shoes on. I was a dumb kid. I didn't realize it until I got to the tanbark. Would not have happened if I had a mother who gave a shit.

I got a little better at taking care of myself after that.

The rest of my school years, never once did they ask to see my report card. Not once. I always gave it to them, though. Only reaction I would ever get was either "Oh, good work" (almost never happened) or "oh, you need to work on that". And nothing else. Never any offers to help with homework, and when I did ask for help, it was usually math. Only answer I remember getting was "oh, that's the new math. Sorry, I don't know anything about that.".

When it came to friends, I always had to clear everything with my mother a week beforehand. She could not handle anything last minute. Also, unless I was bringing them to our house, she would almost always say no. Even in high school. One instance that sticks out for me, was I was invited to a restaurant that was about a mile from my house to play on their foosball table. A couple friends of mine and their friends were going to have a tournament. It sounded like a great time, I really wanted to go. Problem was, it was happening that day. I knew it was a long shot, but I called home to ask, but no. No good times for me.

I had a few good friends growing up. I had some great friends. But once I got comfortable enough with them, and my mom with their parents enough to have sleepovers and such... we'd move. Constantly moving. I hated that. I went to 8 different schools and lived in 7 different homes (that I can remember off the top of my head).

I didn't know at the time, but my mother had bipolar depression the whole time. That's why she was there but not really there, and so intolerant to last minute schedule changes. I hate her, but knowing it now, I feel unjustified for it. I feel like I'm a horrible person for it.

If you have bipolar depression, either get it under control or don't have kids.

As for my dad, he worked a lot, and until recent years, I never felt all that close to him. Sure, he was there, he took me and the family camping a couple times each summer (my favorite memories). But he also would undermine my self confidence at every turn.

My dad loves and always has loved to make and fix things. All kinds of things. He's taught me a lot about that stuff. But when I was a kid (still does sometimes), when I would try to make or fix something, he'd watch me like a hawk. Which would be fine, but whenever I made the slightest error, he'd literally grab it away from me, and do it himself. The first few times I was in tears. But I got used to it for the most part. I didn't confront him about it until I was a teenager. He got a little better about it, but not completely. To this day, if I'm doing anything in font of him I screw up somehow.

Going back to the 5th grade: During recess, I loved the swings. Unfortunately, so did a lot of other kids. One day, all the swings were full up, so I decide to wander the playground, and play on whatever's available.  I get to those acrobatic bars (you know, the ones that have 3 heights? I can never remember what those are called) and decide to hang and swing my legs back and forth. Earlier that morning it was foggy, and it was a little damp. I slipped off and landed hard and awkwardly on my right wrist. It hurt real bad.

I make my way to the nurse's office (It felt like i was walking for an hour), and they send me home (mother couldn't be bothered to pick me up, so I walked). My dad (retired EMT, current orderly in a county hospital) came home and took a look at my wrist. He said it was just sprained, and put an ace wrap on it. A week goes by, and it still hurts. They finally take me to the hospital, and it's broken. I was at home in pain with a broken wrist for a week. It wasn't that they couldn't afford it, it's because my dad thought he was smarter than he was and falsely diagnosed me. A little bit of knowledge can be a dangerous thing.

I love my parents, but when I think about this stuff, I question my decision to take care of them in their later years.  My mother is now in a wheelchair most of the time, and can't do most things for herself. My dad has COPD, survived cancer, and has a weakened part of his heart (I  can't think of the name of it at the moment) that could burst, killing him within minutes, so he can't do as much as he used to, and if I left them alone, he would kill himself caring for my mother.

Now here I am. Depressed, lonely, mildly suicidal... complaining on the internet. If you've made it this far, thanks for reading my story.

Wednesday, February 18, 2015

I hate money

"We should do away with the absolutely specious notion that everybody has to earn a living. It is a fact today that one in ten thousand of us can make a technological breakthrough capable of supporting all the rest. The youth of today are absolutely right in recognizing this nonsense of earning a living. We keep inventing jobs because of this false idea that everybody has to be employed at some kind of drudgery because, according to Malthusian Darwinian theory he must justify his right to exist. So we have inspectors of inspectors and people making instruments for inspectors to inspect inspectors. The true business of people should be to go back to school and think about whatever it was they were thinking about before somebody came along and told them they had to earn a living."
~ R. Buckminster Fuller

I'll be the first to admit, I knew nothing  about Mr. Fuller until I read this and skimmed his bio on Wikipedia. But from this quote I can tell we're on the same page on at least this issue (though I should point out his possible misuse of the term "Darwinian". Darwin's theories, to my knowledge, do not reach into social structures, they only pertain to biology. He's probably referencing "Survival of the Fittest", but again, to my knowledge, that only means a species as a whole)
Money is nice to have, but if you don't, you are powerless and largely voiceless in our society.
If you don't have money, you don't have a roof over your head or a meal in your stomach. Why should that be so in today's society?
As Mr. Fuller says, not everyone NEEDS to work. Why should the woman stuck behind a desk 5 days a week be forced to do so? Why does she need to waste her precious time and effort to provide for her and her family? Money.
If money did not exist she and everyone else would be able to live their own lives free of restrictions. We could travel the world, pursue higher education, pursue our own life the way we and we alone choose.
Why can this never happen? Those who have it will never give up their power or influence to control what they can.

Friday, January 16, 2015

There's no point. Why bother?

        I gave up on something I mentioned in an earlier post. I have been eating chocolate... Hershey, Mars... whatever tastes good. My not eating it does not change the fact that it will continue to be made the same way they have been doing it for years. There's no point to my own personal boycott. I don't care anymore. Most things we encounter day to day is in some way, on some level, created involving human or animal suffering. It's unavoidable in today's world. The computer I'm using was assembled in China (probably), a place famous for it's horrible working conditions. The vegetables you ate with dinner were likely grown and/or picked by underpaid, possibly abused workers.
       We as a society thrive on others' suffering. Not always human, either. I've been purposely and willfully ignorant to the way the animals I eat are killed. I don't know the details (on purpose), but have heard that one of my favorite restaurants has a bad track record for how they raise and kill their chickens. KFC. I don't want to know how they live and die... on purpose.
        I am guilty of ignoring others' suffering. We all are. We suck as a society. I suck as a person. We all just suck. There needs to be some serious changes before we can call ourselves a good people.

Thursday, February 27, 2014

Thoughts of some guy on the internet on the verge of sleep

The other night, while I was trying to sleep, I came up with a (rough and pretty vague) way to greatly reduce corruption (but not a way to implement or enforce it) in our elected officials. Now, bear with me, and let me know if these are stupid, and not just a vague "Yu dum" or "fu fagget" or any mostly incoherent arguments ... I'd like some actual thought gone into your replies, if you have any. I love a good exchange of ideas.

   We should make being an elected official as financially unattractive as possible. To even run, you must sell/forfeit ALL interest in any companies you may have, quit any job you have, cut all professional ties with everyone. The only money you can make is from the job as the elected official. If you make so much as a penny from any other source, you will immediately lose your elected position and possibly serve jail time if the offense is great enough. In addition, after your term(s) are over, you cannot be employed directly or indirectly by any company or institution you have dealt with during your time in office.
  Do away with the 2-party system. If none of your ideas are original, or you're some puppet for a group of people, we don't need you. Democrats, republicans, screw you both. We don't need you making laws to shove your religion down our throats, and we don't need you to take away our rights to defend ourselves any way we see fit. We need people who can come up with creative solutions to complex problems.
    Also, to run, no company can donate any money or goods to the campaign. Scratch that... no traditional campaigns at all. To speak to the public, you must do it in the form of a debate. At least one opponent must be present to give their side of the issues. Cut out the tailor-made propaganda BS.
   Before voting, all candidates must fill out a questionnaire filled with questions on topics of interest, and some questions that voters submit (NO FLUFF), and answers must be brief and to the point. Answers given will be checked against previous statements made by the candidate and if there are any discrepancies, they will be cleared up. Any candidate found side-stepping the questions (or just plain lying) will be called on it, and may face forfeit of the race. Once complete, the questionnaire along with the candidate's answers will be printed, and sent out to all registered voters.
   Not all of it's bad, though. I say we do away with the limit of how many times someone is elected to the same office. If they are good enough to keep getting elected, let them stay if they can continue to do the job effectively.

May not be perfect, may not even be possible to implement. All I know is, what we have going right now isn't working. We need to make some changes, people.