Well, That Escalated Quickly

Believe it or not, I've actually been writing a lot lately.  A lot.

I haven't posted anything consistent in a while, because I've also been drowning in feels for some ungodly reason.

I think that burrito I ate last - wait, nope.  What - shit, that's an emotion.

I go through these weird cycles where I contemplate life on every level imaginable.  Like, in a past life I must have been a philosopher or spoiled socialite or something, because I find myself miserably, deeply unsatisfied with the day to day grind of work, sleep, repeat.

And I know - aren't we all?

But guys, I'm really, really starting to think something's wrong with me.  I once went on a tangent where I bought every foreign language dictionary I could find because I was pissed that I couldn't effectively communicate with every. single. person.  I met.  And I don't even like people.

But, now I can say "hello, how are you" "where is the bathroom," and "there's a pen on the f*cking table, professor" in seven different languages.  That's about as far as I got, because trying to teach one's self six different languages all at the same time causes some hilariously strange linguistic cross-overs.  I'm pretty sure that I stumbled into some Klingon somewhere in there, but I have no idea if my syntax is correct because I don't know anyone who speaks Klingon that I can converse with in the language.  Fml.

Or should I say, joder mi vida, vaffanculo, vie de merde - eh, you get the point.

Oh Google image search, you just get me.

... and nothing says "first World problems" like a rambling white girl with enough spare time to try to teach herself six new languages just because she got bored.  This isn't an "I'm so smart I'm bored with my life" post, I swear.  It's more an "I'm not adult enough to adult" post.  

I mean, really.  The language thing is kind of a metaphor for my whole life.  It's like the kid who's so excited to get a puppy, but then they get a puppy, and within a couple weeks they're tired of the responsibility of feeding, walking, and poop-scooping, so the poor dog just sits in the yard looking forlorn until one of the actual grown-ups takes up the slack.  Only instead of just getting one puppy, I tried to adopt six.  Six f*cking puppies, guys.  That's a lot of poop.  I balk at loading the dishwasher - I don't have enough time to clean up that much poop.  AND I'M THE GROWN-UP.  No one's going to swoop in and out-adult me here.

I think one of the suckiest things about being an adult is that, face to face, in the real world, everyone's so afraid of offending people that they refuse to disagree.  Sure, on the internet, everyone's ready to argue just for the sake of arguing, but how often do you see an actual, intelligent debate that actually touches on important points and isn't laced with profanities and wind up sounding like a bunch of toddlers arguing over the best flavor of ice cream?

Yes, this absolutely DOES make sense.

No, in real life, people avoid topics that they know will bring conflicting viewpoints to surface, unless they are surrounded by people they know already agree with them.  Others just try to placate the person whose view opposes theirs to avoid conflict.  Still others just pick whichever side is popular at that particular moment and fake it into the fucking ground.

I can't be the only person who craves intelligent conversation and debate.  For cripes sake, I already know what I think, give me another view to look at.  Give me something that makes me think outside the box and question the assumptions I already have. I'm suffocating here, dammit, TEACH ME SOMETHING. Don't fucking humor me, put on your big person pants and be honest, or take your wishy-washy fake ass elsewhere, I'm too gaddam old to be babysitting toddlers masquerading as adults.

You know what else sucks about adulting?  Maturity.  Or rather, the expectation of it. Why the f*ck can't I giggle when someone says "duty" without people looking at me like I'm a complete idiot?  You know you want to laugh, don't be all judgey just because I don't give a shit enough about what people think to worry about which way their opinion of me is going to slide if I crack up every time one of my kids tell me that stupid knock-knock joke about the interrupting cow.  Screw you, that sh*t's funny.

Re-moooo-ve the stick from your rear end.  MOO.

Guys, why is it that none of us seem to think we're accomplishing anything in life unless we can physically feel our souls being crushed?  Work.  Relationships.  Trying to live up to other peoples' expectations.  What the fuck?  And this stupid idea that our real selves somehow aren't good enough for the world. Fuck the world. We are who we are for a reason. Who the hell thought it was a good idea to let society dictate "normal?" This is the same society that thought the Earth was flat and that it was a perfectly sound method of proof to toss suspected witches into fire and water to see if they'd survive. Witches. Society thought witches made weather destroy their crops and stole the sun when we had an eclipse. Christ on a cracker, it's not rocket science, people. Society be dumb.

If society were a person, it would be the lobotomized guy shoved away at the back of the mental hospital that's been in a coma for the last 20 years but still manages to occasionally sit up and yell random words into thin air while he hurls his own feces at the wall.

Which explains the shit out of this.

So this post has been sitting in my drafts for months, and now as I write, my Mom's sitting in a hospital battling Lymphoma and a severe case of everybody-suddenly-cares-when-shit-happens.

Edit: my Mom passed away in August. That's how long this post has been sitting in my drafts and how long I've been holding this shit in, but I'm going to publish this mostly as-is because it needs to be said.

And I'm going to get a little bit personal, because it's relevant to my whole rant. My mom had a hard fucking life. To the point of basically having to cut everyone off and live like a hermit in a house that's barely standing but was irresistible to her because it happened to be exactly just too far out of the way for anyone to bother to go see her. Not that anyone but me would have, anyway. Because see, my Mom was one of those people who spent her whole life being worried about whether people liked her or not, and got shit on as a result. I love my Mom. But I thank my lucky stars every day that I didn't inherit her inability to feel exactly zero guilt at telling someone to fuck off when they're intentionally skipping all over boundaries and being a total pain in the ass. And, in case you couldn't tell, I'm a little bitter about the fact that everyone wanted to run to her side when she got sick, but were nowhere to be found all the years that she was building up to this shitstorm.

But yes, tell me all about your fond 5 minutes you spent talking to her while she was checking you out at Walmart, and how much you miss her at a family function she never went to anyway.  Tell me how much you're hurting, while I'm single-handedly taking care of all her personal affairs and making all the arrangements, going through her personal belongings and trying to make sense of the fact that, within the time-span of just a couple weeks, I went from making plans with my Mother for when she got better, to holding her hands and looking into her eyes literally as she took her last breath. Cry on my shoulder while my sister and I are cooking for 50 people to eat, leave a mess, and leave. Go ahead, I'll wait.

Because nothing aids the grieving process like abstaining from throat-punching people exactly every second of every day.

And you know, I'm going to go even further in left field and point out that no one on this damn planet seems to have any kind of selflessness or loyalty anymore. What happened to investing in people? Like, the average human spends roughly 80 years on this planet, if they're lucky enough to make it to old age. In all those years, how many relationships do you suppose those people have that are genuine? Ones that lasted decades and didn't hinge on obligation or convenience? How close do we really even get to people anymore? I guess it's not really that far into left field, after all. We don't forge real relationships because we're scared to death someone will see the real us and run screaming for the hills, telling everyone in the path along the way what a horrible, hideous, human we are along the way.

This all escalated quickly and now I'm sure anyone who's gotten this far thinks I'm some kind of psychopath, but the point is - FUCK ALL THAT.

Fuck worrying about what people think. Fuck thinking that the only way to coexist peacefully with others is to stuff yourself into the same mold they wear or hide away completely. Fuck treating people like commodities, or letting other people treat you that way. Life's too short for that shit.  Live your life, love people, be freaking weird, take risks.

Also, avoid trying to learn more than one foreign language at a time. Unless you really want to, I guess. Then, conquer that shit. I believe in you.  You can --

MOOO!

Dammit.