Serious Business

Reality

So last night I prefaced my hastily written blog post with a disclaimer that read: “I am drunk.” While for some, this may seem a deterrent or a sign that says “don’t take this seriously,” from my own experience I’m inclined to believe the contrary. Alcohol removes inhibition. Lack of inhibition doesn’t make you say shit that you don’t mean; rather it makes you more liable to say things that you wouldn’t otherwise say for some fucked up, ethereal reason (fear of how you’re perceived, fear of being called a “bitch” or a “fag” or the like). Alcohol doesn’t turn anyone into any kind of monster. Reality is what turns people into monsters. Alcohol is just a catalyst for honesty. Whether inebriation causes people to not think about how their statements can be perceived, or just takes away their ability to give a fuck about it is beyond me. Things that may seem outwardly obvious when a person is sober are usually attempts to maintain appearances. It’s not until you’ve had a conversation with a person at “that” point that you really know who they are. Everything up to that point is just speculation. Every so often there’s that rare person that really truly just doesn’t give a fuck, and I’d be willing to bet that if polled, that number would be skewed higher than it really should be (denial is something that is certainly rampant in humanity). I, clearly, am not one of those people. (Sidenote: This is not to say that people are wildly different when they’re drunk or when they’re sober. This more speaks to the fact that what people choose to say out loud can have wildly different interpretations based on the interpreter. My thoughts are more or less the same. However, a thought that can have personality implications doesn’t really have meaning until it can be perceived by others.) 

Everyone has their demons. Rum is the key to Pandora’s box.  

Does the nice guy really finish last?

DISCLAIMER: I am drunk.

This debate has been one that I’ve agonized over for some time now. Is my quest to lead an (almost, obviously) completely morally sound life one that will ultimately result in disappointment? Or worse: my undoing? Does the nice guy really finish last? Is it really worth it to ever put another before yourself?

This can be looked at from two different angles. On the one hand, in the frame of your own life, you are, essentially, the only person who really truly matters (credit where credit is due…). However a miserable, downhearted existence that may appear, it does have its own merit. After all, a human’s principle value (at least, in my opinion) is self preservation. So that being the case, why even have a semblance of concern for anyone else? You live, you die; who is it that’s there the whole time? (answer: you) However, I (usually) tend to believe that this ideal is destructive. The common good may seem like a myth, but I can’t help but feel like people who only give a shit about themselves can accomplish nothing as a unit. There’s a reason that they say “a house divided against itself cannot stand.” It takes some degree of cohesiveness to maintain a society, and it takes some degree of society to maintain a civilization. After all, what do we have without civilization?

On the other hand: there’s the way that I normally lead my life. Except in the most primal of situations (which, thankfully, I’ve yet to encounter) I tend to put the needs of others before my own. What is it  exactly that really comes of this? I’ve often found that, whether or not it’s because of the way I was raised, I tend to have a hypersensitive situational awareness. I’m not sure why, but I frequently go out of my way to accomodate others. Why? Because I’m as sympathetic to the needs of others as I expect others to be of mine. In a perfect world, that would be the case. However, this is not a perfect world.; far from it, actually. This world is actually full of terrible people; terrible, terrible shitheads. I don’t know why I expect people to give as much of a shit as I give, but from experience, I can tell you that any situation involved with that usually ends in disappointment.

So given these two conflicting viewpoints, I’m clearly starting to side with one of them. I understand that maintaining a well functioning society requires some degree of solidarity. But if nobody else is going to put as much effort in as I am, why should I constantly labor over the needs of others? Especially if there is literally no tangible return involved? So, given these facts, I’m starting to wonder whether the path that I’m on is really the one that will be most beneficial in the long run. If I really am the only constant in my life, why waste my time and energy catering to the needs of others when it really yields nothing but some kind of mildly rewarding sense of accomplishment?

In conclusion: it seems like, in most situations, that the nice guy really does finish last (barring “false sense of accomplishment” contests). Seeing as most people that I’ve ever gone out of my way to assist have vanished from my life, never to be seen again, it seems that my efforts have been, for the most part, for naught.

Context is everything.

(via tnads)

Day 4!

Day 3.

Day 2.

I’m doing this thing where I post songs that I think you need to hear before you die (according to me, obviously.) They’re in no particular order. Here’s the first one.

Fragility

I’m really not looking forward to coming home to this shithole and dealing with all of the problems that come along with it. As much as it pains me to admit it, my parents aren’t going to be around to deal with the logistics of life forever, but I guess that’s just how it goes. Just gotta roll with the punches and take it as it comes, one step at a time. But even that one step can be wholly overwhelming and knock you straight on your ass. This weekend has opened my eyes to a lot of things. Honestly, the word “illuminating” doesn’t even begin to describe it. One of the dominant themes of my thoughts, after sitting in on extensive conversation with my two aunts and father (they lost their younger brother on tuesday), was/is the fragility of life, and how much we take it for granted. I’ve always known that my father had been in a near fatal motorcycle accident before I was born, but there were a few details that had been withheld (albeit unintentionally) from the story. The first being that he was only fucking 18 years old when it happened. I’m 21 now and I’ve barely had anything that can be considered even remotely close to a life experience, let alone one of that magnitude. But here’s the thing that really hit me in the gut and made my throat tight: I’ve known that it was near fatal, but I always assumed that it was because of direct cause of the accident. It turns out that it was actually due to an embolism that went to his lungs and cut off the oxygen to his brain, which was discovered shortly before he was headed to surgery. When my aunt had arrived in Chicago, she was told that there was a good chance that he wouldn’t make it and if he did, there was a very good chance that he would be catatonic. (My aunt used the “V” word in the story and I literally almost cried when I thought about it.) He was that close to death, or at the very least, death of consciousness. The man who half of my chromosomes came from, who fathered me, raised me and (along with my mother) instilled me with the morals and principles that I believe in so strongly, for whom I have a reverence that is unmatched by that of which I have for any other, nearly had his last thought as he slammed into the side of a car at ~65 mph, or at least shortly thereafter. Obviously, this story has a happy ending as I am sitting on this train, writing this blog post to you, my 15 or so followers, as on that fateful day when my dad opened his eyes and saw the Notre Dame “Fighting Irish” shirt that his family requested be taped on the ceiling above his hospital bed.

This weekend, I learned a lot about my family. Principally, I learned how lucky I am to be surrounded by all of these people. People that have been strengthened through life experiences, the likes of which I could only dream about, tempered like steel. It made me feel as if no matter what, I’ll always have a support system, and a whole group of individuals to catch me, should I fall. And let me tell you, there’s no better feeling in the world, especially coming from somebody with severe trust issues.

So the moral of the story is: never forget what you have. If you’re lucky enough to even be reading this, you’re luckier than most. And never forget that just as much as you have can be taken away from you in the blink of an eye.

The (un)Bounds of Human Stupidity

So, as you all know: people are dumb. How dumb? Really dumb. So dumb that it’s almost staggering. I’ve decided to start this column, so that I can detail accounts of human stupidity as I encounter them.

Exhibit A: I was at the ATM, getting some cash for the haircut I was about to get, when a portly old fellow with literally no expression on his face meandered in. Now you may think that he would have wondered why I was using the ATM that was farther inside the room (from what I’ve gathered, people don’t usually wonder things, as that requires some kind of thought about their surroundings), but I guess he didn’t. Anyway, the reason why I was using the less convenient machine was because I noticed that the first machine had an out of order message on the screen. While I was going through the motions, I observed the man try to insert his card into the slot. It didn’t work. At this point, MY course of action would have probably been to look at the screen, but I guess that’s just me, seeing as he tried to insert the card 2 more times to no avail. He stops. I can feel his mental processes working. He’s trying very hard. He knows there’s a problem, but he’s not sure what it is. Anyone with enough mental function to actually WALK IN to the ATM should know that usually when there’s a problem with the machine you’re trying to use, the most logical thing to do would be to look at the screen. So what does he do? He looks at his debit card. Starts scrutinizing the corners and the surface, desperately trying to ascertain why it won’t “fit” in the slot. After about 30 seconds, he stops. I notice his head turn to the screen, and, presumably, read its message. It almost happened in slow motion to me. Or maybe it did happen in slow motion. I was relieved. Maybe the world isn’t full of idiots after all! Maybe there is hope for the collective of mankind! Nope. He tried to put his card in the slot again. At this point the room started spinning and I was feeling lightheaded so I had to leave. I guess we’ll never know whether or not that man got his money. But that’s okay; he was probably going to buy lottery tickets with it anyway.