And I will not be your tragedy's fulcrum
I will not be your Sisyphus' stone
This is between you, your god and the mountain
You can just leave me the fuck alone
This is an excellent song to contemplate suicide with. With which to contemplate suicide. Pardon my grammar.
I'm not saying I'm suicidal, or that I've ever been. But I've had to face the very real aspect of this depression thing that I'm taking a break from school for. For which I'm taking a break from school. I can't really procrastinate or sit on it any longer; I need to find a counselor to talk to. With whom to talk. *sigh*
I've been thinking about OLP lyrics and enlightenment and spirituality and meditation. The Zen student strives to be the master. The master strives to be the fool. The fool never strives.
I think I will buy the Osho Zen Tarot deck, just for another way to look at my problems. I'm sure it won't help till I learn to prioritize and do things that need to be done. Like all this laundry. I'm going to try to get up early enough to do a few loads (the secret is that the laundry room is actually open ~10 min before it's supposed to be) and still have time to cut my hair before I catch the 1:05 train to New Haven. I'm leaving early because the concert's been cancelled (postponed, actually, but they said cancelled) and will instead be on July 27th. So you're like, WTF?!! So why are you going earlier? I am going to try to catch an early movie with Val and some of her friends. It's the weekend before my birthday; I need to get out of town. I miss Michelle dearly, but I can't rely on her to make me feel good all the time. So I'm just going to do what I always do; go somewhere else, somewhere quiet, somewhere where there are either no people or people who love me (yay, Val) and kind of have quiet time. Unstructured time.
It doesn't make sense to me; I see myself as lazy, but I'm really something of a workaholic. My world right now is work and Michelle; just like it used to be school and school. And that's the reason I needed to leave school; it was all that was really going on for me (with some very rare exceptions). Right now, I've got a similar situation with work; I am putting a lot into it and I am only hearing from them when I've done something wrong. There are no rewards for success; only chastisement for failure. It's become unrewarding (don't even mention the piss money
The band will not be offended if you skip a track on the CD.
The subject line to this post is adapted from a line in Our Lady Peace's Julia. I like changing lyrics to suit my purpose. I did the same thing with a line from Talking Heads' "Psycho Killer." When I have nothing to say, my lips are sealed. Say nothing once, why say it again? A lot of people talk and don't say it again. I get criticized for not being the kind to make small talk. But that's because I try not to say nothing once, if I can avoid it. Likewise, I think the worst thing you can do when offered advice is to take it; not unless you carefully consider that advice first. Maybe if I write Raine and the boys, they will change it by the JULY 27TH CONCERT DATE. Hell, I'll be back from Sacramento by then. Of course, if I take the time off without being granted it, I might not be coming back to a job, or at least, the same job, but hey. I said I was going to do this, and I'm going to do it. The job is just a means to an end. I don't need it. Not the way it needs me. Go ahead, find another Ivy League student willing to smile for peanuts and who genuinely cares about your shit job. Some people make me wonder. I mean, if I'm doing something wrong, tell me. But also tell me WHY so I don't keep doing it. I am not questioning your orders or your authority when I "talk back" (also known as replying); I am requesting more information to improve my performance. So fuck you. If I'm doing something right, ALSO TELL ME. I always tell people on the job "thanks" or "good job." Maybe I sound fake, but I mean it. Hell, I thank nice salespeople at other stores because they are my colleagues. They deal with this shit too.
I never understood/liked the idea of "talking back." My mother would get VERY angry when she would tell me to not "talk back" and then I would not speak in response to anything she said for the rest of the day. Like I was telling Michelle the other night; I treat adults like adults until they act like children. If you don't want to explain why I should do something, then I won't do it. I don't really care. I am doing YOU a favor.
I also realize that me not caring is a factor in me getting steamrolled so often. It's not that I'm a pushover, I just don't care about stuff too much. But I'm also a slow thinker; I come up with the perfect retort after I've left the room. So I've taken to slowing people down to my speed. The answer is usually evident to me; the objective view on the subject, but not immediately. Maybe I need to master "right thinking" or whatever.
Boss (she talks really fast; answers the phone like "StrMagk": ...Andyouhavetocutupthoseboxes.
Me: I have to cut up boxes? Why didn't you tell me?
Me: No... he didn't.
Me: Did you hear me say I heard him?
Me: That doesn't mean I heard him.
All the while I was sweeping; it's not like work came to a standstill. That would have been counterproductive; arguing about work and not working. And yes, I am a wiseguy. It's a defense mechanism. So I went downstairs, couldn't even find the damn boxes (they were in the OTHER room), and then cut them up. I was in no hurry. I left at 8, right when I was scheduled to (right to wheFUCK IT). SHE was the one who didn't get to leave early to go clubbing. HA. Me, I had to return a defective CD downtown, so I knew I'd be out for awhile.
I hope Michelle got the package I sent her today. Maybe she's out right now, driving, and listening to the tapes I mixed her. I hope wherever she is, she just thought of me and smiled, like I did.