Monday, October 10, 2011

antsy

What to say, what to say.  I'm banging my head against the wall.  Oh god.  I told Jeff* I was going to write a book about my life and he told me that he wants to read it.  That he knows it will be good and he finds me inspiring.

No. Fucking. Pressure.  But that's good.  I kind of like pressure.  I like pressure in the sense that I like knowing that holyfuckingshitsomeonethinksthataboutme.  It's kind of a weird thing to be told, you know?  Startling.  I feel like a festering pile of shitscum.  What the fuck do you mean I am inspiring?  Do you know how lazy I am?

That's the thing.  People who are inspirational are people with broken compasses.  They are people who are not capable of being rational.  This is both good and bad.  When you think back to those caveman-ish sorts of days... frequent adrenaline bursts were part of life.  They were mandatory.  We no longer live in that kind of world.  But as animals we haven't evolved.  Our society doesn't have good outlets right now that function in a constructive way.

I need more adrenaline in my life.  I'm not sure how to get it.

* name changed to protect the guilty innocent former coworker.

1 comment:

  1. I read something that said ADD was a survival trait, that it was something that made people different, and so likely to become outcasts... It also enabled one to focus very broadly, good for locating food and predators when you're all on your own (like if your community kicked you out), and the very fact that you weren't from a community (say the new one you stumbled across in your travels) made you MUCH more attractive to a small set of people. His assertion was that this was an effective way to disperse genes between small, insular communities.

    I suppose there's two sides to everything. :)

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