(AKA: Untitled Nutcake Post)
These days, I live separate from the regular reality. The fantasies of good health and romance are simultaneously blossoming, and I feel detached from the many weights and chains that often tether me to the cold ground. As I scrub my tired face, I cannot help but mull a thought—this is happiness, or deluded happiness?
I think such questions form flies that fall in the soup, and it’s best to enjoy it before such a thing happens. My vision for the future is blurred in this hot fog—(google docs is attempting to change fog to dog. I find that pretty funny, and now I am questioning my word choice.) Anticipating the future is made difficult by this blinding piss mist, and yet there is clarification as I inhale all of the strangeness:
The people around me are just people. Their problems are just people problems. Collectively, we are often incapable of helping one another, yet there are boundless responses to many dilemmas. I’d say most of us are looking to our own motivations for The Answer, although thorough problem solving achieves the better result.
We’re all so similar—getting frustrated at work, gazing up at the stars, wondering if any of this is worth it at all and then shaking the feeling away as you use your mobile phone to pay bills. Each of us is using muscle to hustle in our own way. Got to live to play, got to play to win. Different motivations, different answers, same rat race. You better well believe we are all in this together.
This breath of clarity offers nothing in the way of enhancing my sympathy or humanitarian skills. Truth be told, I live better immersing myself in a thoughtful personal life than spending time watching the world turn round. I see the struggle, and mine is my own. That isn’t to say I do not respond to the people’s people problems ever, but involving myself too closely with people people can start to spoil my brain.
Sometimes I like to throw shit out the window of my often private and quiet life, and it seems to most often take the form of bits of writing. If someone catches a whiff of my shit, I suppose we have made a meaningful connection. But I try not to throw my people problems out the window. I try to solve them. And then deliver my answers and motivations on a nicely-typed page of shit.
The vision of happiness, anticipations, motivations, dilemmas—it provides subtext for a life being lived, but no real explanation. For whom the bluebird sings? There is chicken and there is egg. And for why does a watched pot not boil? To me, it is utter chaos out there, but I still enjoy my own little slice of nutcake, and occasionally, sharing it.
January 19th, 2024
Written by Randa 