Monday, September 15, 2014
If I Should Die Before I Live...
Callie upchucked this morning. As some of us know, animals know and sense things that humans can’t. Last night, in my own horrid personal life, something happened, something unpretty. The trigger was something really stupid - I was playing music at my usual Saturday night place, and a certain person – who thinks she knows better, that she is in charge of every goddam thing I do, and who thinks that her opinion and/or beliefs are the only ones that are valid, came up and started telling me how I should do my fucking job. I don’t go down to McDonald’s and tell anybody how to cook their hamburgers, so what makes people think they should come into where I work and tell me how to play my music – especially somebody who doesn’t know the first goddam thing about music??? Anyway, as I always do, I shut my mouth – being perfectly aware of consequences of defending my own honor, or saying anything that the bullying warden does not approve of. A little while later, she says, “Tomorrow we need to have a talk”. Ok, so I know what that means – it means more threats, more smartass, more denials, more turnabout, more bullying.
Any person who has kept up with my blog here knows that I’ve spent my whole life being screwed with, lied to, exploited, taken advantage of, and bullied to beat hell. I’m not talking about the kind of bullying that we hear about in schools, I’m talking about the bullying father, the workplace bully, the road rage bugeyed lowlifes out there in the streets who tailgate, racing around endangering other people’s lives, and other such adult type punks – and they come in the shape of male and female organisms. I’m talking about people who claim to want to help, but really only want something for themselves – many times just a punching bag to take out their aggressions – aggressions that they would never direct at anyone who might be able to fight back – anybody who they don’t have something on. What does this chicken shit have on me – I’ve been out of work for 2-1/2 years – and not by my own doing. The money mongers will think I deserve what I get, while people who have any real insight on life will understand, and will be as appalled as I am – not only at my own personal plight, but at all similar B.S.
So, after the “We need to have a talk”, I got to thinking about my life – about the fact that I’m beyond sick and tired of being screwed with, of being stifled by people who, being the flaming cowards that they are, will never show their faces, while they play their little chicken shit game. I got to thinking that my life is even worse now than it was ten years ago, and twenty years ago. I fought with severe clinical depression for about ten years there, and it seemed to be dissipating somewhat, and it doesn’t feel like depression is setting in, this is just disgust and being tired. I got to thinking that I don’t see any light at the end of any tunnel, in fact, I don’t even see a tunnel, just mostly darkness and bullshit – and angry, vindictive people. All that in mind, I decided that when we had “The talk”, which was code for “I need somebody to beat up on right now, and you’re it”, that I would say my piece, maybe more, then cut the inside of my bicep open – where that big artery is, and bleed out in less than a minute. This comes from a guy who doesn’t anymore take his own life all that seriously – the biological part – where most people say it’s so valuable and should be preserved at all costs. Well, I don’t buy it, in my mind, when I’m gone, nobody will care, and in a thousand years, nobody will know about, or care about anything any person here now does. I’ve always done good things, not because I was afraid of burning in some imaginary hell, or because I thought I’d be rewarded – I do good things because I want to, because I think it’s the right thing to do – and that hasn’t changed. So, I had decided that I was done with this horrid place. After all this, the dictator decided she didn't want to have "The talk" after all. This takes me to a whole 'nother subject, which I won't get into now, but I found it bizarre and astronomically unlikely that this would have happened.
Getting back to Callie, I’ve had cats before, but I was never all that close to them, I liked them, and I cared about them, but they did their thing and I did mine – and they seemed to be ok with that. Callie is different; she was severely abused for the first year of her life, and also starved within inches of her life when she came into my world. While she hid under beds and dressers for the first 2 or 3 weeks, I would spend time talking softly to her, telling her it’s ok, and that nobody was going to hurt her. I put food as close to her as I could get. I even managed to pet her a few times. Fast forward ten months, and she’s a happy cat – loving, non aggressive, playful, never gets into anything she’s not supposed to, non demanding, and unassuming. Her favorite place to be is on my lap. She doesn’t cower or duck anymore when I reach out to pet her. She always has enough to eat, and she’s always welcome to be on or near me, and she knows that without any doubt. Last night, I told her that I loved her, and that I was so sorry that things got to the point that they were, and that I would see her soon. She stayed on my lap for the rest of the time until I went to bed – and she seemed kinda down. I would almost bet my life that the reason she lost her dinner was because she knew something bad was about to happen, that she was about to lose somebody she loved and depended on. I love this cat more than I’ve ever loved any human – and I’m so not kidding about that. I know, some might think that’s creepy, but it’s really not, I love her for being the loving, unassuming being that she is – that’s a whole lot more than I can say for any person I’ve ever known. People are so goddam angry and vindictive, and jealous, and controlling, and selfish. This cat is none of those things. If I’d met a girl who had those virtues, and who wasn’t so goddam angry, I would have happily spent my life with her, but well, that hasn’t happened, and I’m sure it’s not gonna. I’m actually ok with that, in the way that I accept it as reality, not that I like it, but it is what it is, as they say. When the time does come for me to check out of this disgusting place, I won’t really feel sorry for any person – for leaving any person here, but I will feel horrible for leaving Callie. I don’t know how she’ll do without me. Thing is, I hate this place, I always have, and I generally hate people – being that most of what I get from them is their hostility, and their shunning – a few exceptions, of course, but I’ve never really felt totally trusting with any person – and the few times I did let my guard down, three guesses….
I think Callie is afraid of most people – as she should be. I wish things were just a little different, that I could stay here for her – and let me tell you, there is nothing else I can think of that I would want to stay in this shithole of a world for. But, I’ve really had it.
I’m not going anywhere today, and probably not tomorrow, but I’m sure “The talk” will happen soon.
One thing I need to add is, anyone who might be reading this, I’m asking that you don’t step in – in the way of the law. Last time I told ONE person about my plan to end this ridiculous B.S., and next thing I know, the cops are banging at my door – to take me to the Psych Ward – where I spent two miserable weeks. I don’t need psychiatric interference, I don’t some idiot therapist showing me phony concern, telling me stories about how I should take control of my life, and how I should value life itself – because again, I don’t buy it. I should be able to check out on my own terms, and nobody has the right to dictate to me that I can’t do that – it’s MY life, and it’s up to ME what I do with it.
So, I’m happy to say that I have a little more time to be there for Callie, but I believe I’m already on borrowed time.