it’s official

It’s official – this is not really my happy place. After only a couple of weeks, my tags sound as if my next step is wacking myself or placing a load of that substance (the one that you don’t write about online so as not to get tagged by God knows which government’s governmental search engines) under an Arlington Road kind of car. Funnily enough, I’m far from being this grim anywhere else in my daily life, which probably means I really needed a let-off-some-steam kind of place. So that’s it, `here` defined itself… Which brings me to a topic I find fascinating – the balance between the need of confirmation for what you are and the wish to have enough guts to change it…

But the wheel in my head is spinning too fast. Let me go back a bit. Can you remember the last time you have been really really annoyed at someone doing something in a completely different way than yours and feeling they were in your face? Like the girl who stops to light a cigarette right outside the subway exit, in the doorway, while you are being rushed into her by a mass of people who need to come out, whereas you, in her place, would try your best to mind the routes of everyone behind you so that you shouldn’t be experienced by them as being in the way. Or like the person who, very slowly, counts eurocents at the supermarkt cash register in order to pay the exact sum, while there are still 10 people waiting behind them, whereas, in the same situation, you desperately try to pack your things and pay as efficiently as possible in order not to let anyone wait. Or the mom you meet at the kindergarden door with a load of make-up on, perfect hair in spite of the rain and all dressed up and looking down on you, while you did your best to get everyone up and running within 30 minutes in the morning and are happy you managed to brush your teeth, comb your hair and find something reasonably resembling an outfit already out of the laundry hamper.

Those moments of utter annoyance represent, in retrospect, a combination of the things I dislike most about myself. Whenever I get annoyed, I pass judgment on the other person’s choice (to smoke, to stand up for the individual and care less for the group, to take their time, to care about themselves a bit more, to buy quality expensive clothes or whatever else) because it’s not my choice. Because I do things differently and I need to confirm to myself my way is more respectful of other people, less imposing, less vain, more this, less that. However, the feeling never comes without the sting of its brother – envy. I judge them because I wish I posessed myself a bit more of a particular quality or made myself a choice closer to the one that they excel in – being more assertive in front of the mass, having or making more time for myself, taking it slower, and there are certainly more examples. Examples of grapes being sour. Of disliking things because I deny them to myself. Of placing value upon me `not being a person who would…`, although some of the things I want to exclude from my personal definition I find pleasurable. Of, again, catch 22.

Because the horrible in-built thing about human beings (and all beings for that matter) is that they perceive the world egocentrically. And, basically, all the socialisation that persuades me to be a decent human being goes against that primal drive. The catch seems to be, the more value one places upon things that denote one being a decent human being, the more side-sins there are opening up. Just assuming one is trying to make what they perceive to be the humanly decent choice in their society at a given time, there is still the matter of what their reasons are for this choice and whether or not they are just an addict of everyone else’s approval, whether or not they are nice only to feel good about themselves. I’m starting to wonder whether something is fundamentally wrong with my philosophy… it resembles, at this point, that short story of Poe’s, `The imp of the perverse`…

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