May 7, 2020

Bleak Outlook

It’s a bit surreal to go from my mildly optimistic post from yesterday to the one I am about to write now. It’s quite the emotional swing but I can’t take it anymore. Truly. I am over this world and the selfish ways of everyone else. It’s always about “me, me, me, me, me.” (And at times, I am just as guilty. I did a rant video about not getting my refund for a hotel I had booked pre-covid. I have since received it.) But the way others are responding over this virus is insane.

The constant barrage of horrific news, coupled with a brief conversation with my boss’s wife (who breezed through the conspiracy theory bullshit) just put me over the edge. I’m done caring. Why care about other people who don’t give a fuck about themselves? It’s pointless. We step up to the plate to limit the human cost of this virus and all these infants do is bitch and moan and groan that they can’t get a fucking haircut. Or that they have to wear a mask. What was it for?! They obviously don’t care. Nope. It was just a “political ploy” to make some orange fuck face look bad. Even though he does that quite well on his own. The only one who doesn’t see it are the people lapping up the kool-aid he passes out.

Honestly, let’s just go back to the way it was before. Fuck any precautions. Let’s just throw caution to the fuckin wind! I’m ready to watch all of it burn down. I’m done fighting. Just done. People are fucking idiots. And death is inevitable. So I might as well have fun while I can and pray this virus takes out a few of these fuckfaces. Nothing would please me more.

I’m done caring. Done.

PS my mind will probably return to its regularly schedule optimism at a later date…

May 6, 2020

Misery Loves Company

It occurred to me the other day that I have missed an opportunity with my blog to chronicle the entire expanse of my “Covid-19 Journey.” I could have begun with a post about how I was impressed/astounded/terrified of how quickly we went into lock-down, followed up by my hatred for working from home (and my subsequent desire to murder my spouse.) But in reality, what could I have added to the dialogue that wasn’t already being said by every mouth across the globe? There isn’t. We were all thinking and feeling the same thing, some more extreme than others (it would appear.)

I would like to say that I used this time to work on my novel, to finally get a polished draft to submit to agents, however in true “josh fashion” I became inexplicably obsessed with a video game that consumed all of my free time. To which I added two additional versions of said game (aka Animal Crossing) to my rotation. When I ran out of things to do in one variation I would jump to the other and so on. It’s been quite interesting. I can say with certainty that the original does still hold up, even though it lacks so many of the features that the most recent iteration possesses.

Even that aspect of the lock-down, was shared by so many of the gays on twitter. There was nothing exceptional or standout I experienced that warranted any sort of sharing on my part. And while I find that upsetting (my voice pitched at the level of everyone else) it also brought me some sort of joy.

Up until I wrote this post it didn’t even occur to me that for once in a great long while, all of us shared identical experiences. Well, identical might be a tad overstated, we did however have similar ones, and in that is a certain kind of magic. I think we get so caught up in this idea of the “self” that we can’t possibly imagine that we are never alone in our experiences. Yet, that isn’t true. It is why blog posts, articles, human interest pieces of people struggling with something do well, because it shows the world that we are connected somehow. Despite the fact that we are also so unique.

Just like everyone else, I ended up spending most of my time angry at the state of leadership; how it turned into a full on adventure just to go to the store for something as trivial as TOILET PAPER; being consumed with rage at having to work from home and the ever looming failure of technology to a remote computer; gaining a million pounds because working from home also allows for easy access to snacks; being obsessed over a televisions show or video game to take my mind off of the reality I am currently submerged; terrified I’m not going to be able to have enough funds to weather a lengthening of the shelter-in-place; and missing my usual haunts because they’re closed due to the possibility of contracting a very deadly disease.

Without a doubt in my heart, every person in this world shared, at least, one of those events.

This post was entirely too optimistic in the wake of the reality that so many people have died, and will continue to die, all because some fucked up politicians wanted to make a virus a partisan issue. It is humbling that I was one of the lucky who haven’t had any sort of agony accompanying my mild inconveniences. And the thing I find so frustrating is people protesting against wearing a mask or keeping themselves safe. Yet… even that is a shared experience. It’s just their “response” to these drastic/abrupt changes in normal life were VERY different than mine. (I comprehend the reality that my actions have consequences to people other than myself.)

Anyway… Stay safe, dear reader. Remember that you are not alone in the world. Someone is going through the same thing you are.

February 25, 2020

Calming the rage machine

I feel like a broken record when I say “lately I’ve been filled with so much rage.” And that would be because I am and I have. For whatever reason it has been more than I can handle where I fly off the handle over the littlest things. It’s scary for just my mental health and my overall health. It’s interesting to look at my heart rate spiking during the day when I have crazy blow ups.

For the life of me I can’t find what’s fueling it, either because I can’t or I don’t want to. I have yet to ascertain which of the two. All I know for sure is it isn’t good and I need to work on it. Someone always in a blind rage isn’t fun to be around. And I can’t leave myself behind.

One day it came to me that I was angry because I wasn’t doing what I know I should be. And that is editing my book. So far whenever I leave my thoughts behind and delve into story structure and prose it takes me away and leaves me with a calming peace. It’s really quite extraordinary. However even that could be gasoline at times too.

The problem of being an artistic soul is that art doesn’t like criticism. And to edit is to critique and say “this isn’t good.” But over these ten years, I have learned that I have to immediately follow up that negative thought with “but I can fix it.” Then I dive right in and surprise myself by fixing what was wrong. (At least for that moment until I come back and go “why the fuck did I do that?”)

I will finish editing my book. At this point it is the thing that will get me through these moments of anger. Because it is there that I have some control, even while I have none in my mundane life.

February 17, 2020

Family? I don’t know them.

It’s sad to me how much my mother believes in the fantasy of “family.” She is of the school that “blood is thicker than water.” And at one time in her life it was true, but it has since diluted. For me it never existed, because I saw through my families bullshit and lies.

Lies may be a harsh word. I should just say empty promises. The words these people speak mean nothing to them, but unfortunately so much to my mother. She believes them, because at her core she would never say something she didn’t mean.

One of my cousin’s (I forget whom) had a problem with my mother because if you invited her to any event she will attend. That thought angers me for two very specific reasons: 1) why wouldn’t you want her there? and 2) is it such a bad thing to be able to depend on someone, no matter what?

When she was firing on all cylinders, she was the most giving woman to ever have existed. (She still is, by the way, she just lacks the capacity to do as much as she wants.) She would go absolutely out of her way if you asked her to. The only problem is she (subconsciously) expects that in return, and it’s not going to happen.

This morning my mother ruminated on how she had taken care of both my aunts when they had cancer and my father through his many ailments. Both of my aunts would eventually succumb to their illnesses (and my father on an unrelated injury tied to one of his many issues.) Before they had passed, she was there every step of the way. She would make the 2 hr drive down to see my aunts as often as she could without complaint because it was just what family did for one another.

Rewind many years and my mother was there for my cousin’s as they were growing up. I am in a weird spot in my family line, because all of my first cousin’s were having children when I was born. So I grew up with my second cousins. During the years before she met my father, she was the bad ass aunt who took her nieces and nephews to every southern california theme park, took them shopping, did whatever she could to give them a good childhood. She was the one they ran to when they “ran away from home.”

Returning to reality… Here we are as her mind is disintegrating and where are they? Where is this family that is supposed to come and help? They don’t even have to do anything, just visit. Sit there and reminisce. Chat. But they are nowhere. And in the end, for me, that’s fine. It further cements the notion that blood means fuckall. Yeah, you share a genetic code, but that doesn’t mean they give a shit about you.

The thing that does upset me with their absence, is that these ungrateful pieces of shit are hurting her. She languishes in isolation and wonders why no one visits her. It’s heartbreaking to watch and one I can’t answer for her, without sounding angry or bitter.

My mother loves to wax poetic that “your family loves you.” (Speaking to me, about me.) No, they don’t. They really don’t. They tolerate me or “accept” my existence. But love is being there for someone, no matter the cost. Love is not empty words spoken to make you look good, but carry no weight behind them.