Technically, It’s True

Did you know that if you die, you no longer have to worry about anything anymore? On top of that, no one can come after you for anything, either. No bills, no family trouble, no debt collectors, no body aches or pains, you’re free from all of it.

Of course, conversely, you’re also dead. Currently, I’m trying to figure out a way to have the best of both worlds, and so far all I can come up with is ascending to a form of pure energy, like the Organians, who told both Kirk, Kor, the Federation, and the Klingons to fuck off with that shit or else. That would be a nice power to have: the ability to tell people to fuck off, and then to enforce it where they can’t do anything about it but obey.

I would abuse that power so quickly.

Still, back to the dead solves problems except the being dead part, it’s almost absurdly simple. We human beings get so wrapped up and involved in what we perceive as important, that we bind ourselves to those problems. It’s why when someone tells me the best way to relieve stress is to get away from the problem, I laugh, and not a pleasant laugh, but a crass, hopeless, faithless, cynical cough cackle.

It’s the kind of laugh that comes right from your diaphragm, and your stomach even hurts afterwards because of the force you put behind it. I mean, you pushed so much sarcasm into that laugh, that you physically injured yourself just to get the point across.

It never works, though. They never understand. We can’t just step away from the source of our stress, because part of the stress is due to the fact that we can’t step away from it.

I swear to fuck, if I see one more kale eating, yoga bending, chakra balancing, pasty tan faced (you know what I’m talking about), upper middle class suburban soccer mom who wears a shirt that says “Everything Happens for a Reason,” and tells me that if I’d just let go of my stress I’d feel great, I’m going to cocaughle* in their faces until the onions I had for lunch make their presence known to the nostrils of mine enemies.

I mean, technically it’s true that getting away from your source of stress will reduce stress, but that kind of advice is like saying “if you’d just get more money, you wouldn’t need to worry about not having enough money.” Well, no fucking shit. Next you’ll tell me that fire’s hot, water’s wet, and Natalie Portman is just the cutest goddamned little goddess on the face of this planet. Of course it’s true, all of it! That’s the kind of “advice” that doesn’t help.

None of my friends tell me these things, I think because they know by now that pithy sayings don’t do well with me, and also, because most of them are the same way. They would most definitely cocaughle in the face of some jackass mimicking a bumper sticker they saw in a Hot Topic. If there is anything valuable I have gained over the years of doing all of this, it’s how quickly I’ve learned my own mind, and that I no longer accept bullshit as an axiom, or as a replacement for real life experience.

There’s a special place in hell for people who tell me “good things come to those who wait.” Oh, what a delightfully face melting place in hell awaits them, because holy shit, if you want to get on my bad side really fast, you wait until I lament about being lonely, and then drop that zinger.

I don’t like empty platitudes, or contrived wisdom. Neither does me any good, does no one any good. I want the straightforward truth, and nothing less. I always offer the same to my friends. It’s wrapped in politeness, compassion, and kindness, because I love my friends, but it is always the direct truth. Anything less is just dicking people around, and I don’t have time for that, unless they’re talking about the real thing, and in that case I can most definitely make time. There’s always time for a good dicking.


*Cocaughle (ko*kaff*ul): Cough and cackle. I decided I didn’t want to have to keep typing two words. Of course, if I would have just typed the two words, I wouldn’t have needed to type an entire explanation at the bottom of this entry so you would understand I created a portmanteau in order to save time. Goddammit, I’m bad at this sometimes.


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