Monday, December 15, 2008

When Your Day Sucks Before It Begins

Did you ever have one of those days where your very first thought in the morning was something along the lines of "I'm going to hate every last millisecond of this day!" Some of you are thinking you have but I mean my very first thought, was not "I'm still tired" or "I hate the sound of my alarm," there was no other thought in front of my hating the day. It's actually as though I woke up part way through a more complete thought which caused me to only catch that final part in my waking moment. The shitty part about this is that my waking thought has held 100% true thus far and I see no letting up any time soon. Was this just the way my day was fated to be or is it a self-fulfilling prophecy that I'm too pessimistic to break out of? I'm pretty sure it's actually the latter but I don't give a shit. I semi-consciously want to be miserable today, it seems necessary.

Why the hell would anybody want to be miserable some of you may being thinking. It's my personality, it's my comfort zone, it's my fucking security blanket. I can't explain it but in a way I take comfort in discomfort. My discomfort this particular Monday can easily be attributed to my weekend. Most of the time my life is really not that exciting and is really just more like purgatory of sorts where I'm here and I'm waiting for something but I haven't a clue what that might be. This particular weekend I took a sort of mini vacation to see somebody. I say somebody because I don't have a title for this individual.

But that doesn't make any sense? Surely there's some way to define this person you're probably thinking. I'm sure there is but I can't do it. This person has a name but I won't put that name here because this is about me, not her, and I don't want to drag her into it so you'll have to deal with that. Now, like I was sort of saying, I could define this person one of several ways but I'm not sure which is appropriate at this point in time. The only way I can describe any of it is the most promising mess I've ever gotten myself into. Anyhow, that's enough of that, draw your own conclusions.

The point I was getting at is that I spent the weekend away, rather far away, in another state with a person of undefined relationship. I took the day off on Friday to drive down and stayed until Sunday. I've probably had good weekends before but I don't seem to be able to recall any of significance up until this particular one. I'm not going to describe the details or the events of the weekend as they were, that's not really the point of this either. The weekend is the reason for the way I feel today and that's why I brought it up. From about 3:00 Friday evening until approximately 4:00 Sunday afternoon I was completely 100% content. I'm never completely content, I don't know if I have ever been 100% satisfied with anything in life up until this weekend. During that time frame there was nothing else of significance happening in the world, no worries, no problems, nothing wrong at all in the past, present, or future. Unsettling, it really is... a very good kind of unsettling but all of this has shot some very significant holes in my shoddily constructed reality which it would seem is now sinking under me at an alarming rate of speed with all hands on board.

At the end of my weekend which I'll call 5:00 on Sunday I began my drive home and at first, maybe 10 to 15 minutes, I left the radio off so that I could hear my gps. It wasn't until somewhere between 1.5 and 2 hours into the drive that I realized my radio still wasn't on. There was no sound in my car at all except the road and I hadn't noticed. That requires a lot of distraction for me to not realize and therefore I felt it noteworthy.

I'm going to skip ahead now to the point that I intended to make to begin with and I have no idea what the hell that was so I'm just going to type some shit and see how it works out.

I woke up this morning and my first thought was "I am going to hate this fucking day more than any other day ever!" A bit dramatic though it may have been at the time it is proving to be true. It was unseasonably warm this morning and when I went outside with my heavy winter coat on expecting to freeze I was instead too warm and this angers me for reasons I cannot grasp. I had to take my gloves off because it was too warm for them and my hands wanted gloves this morning so this angered me as well. I couldn't turn on the defrosters in my car to reasonable levels because then it was too hot but if I left them off it was just cool enough to fog my windows. That pisses me off beyond belief.

I had to follow a fucking Golden atrocity of a Ford Taurus and a shitty 3-tone pickup truck at 35 mph in a 45 zone for 5 miles and this makes me nearly homicidal. Finally the piece of shit truck turned off and went back to hell where he belongs I hope. That still left the shitty golden egg taurus who really wasn't in much more of a hurry. I had no reason to be in a hurry either because I wasn't running late. I'm just always in a hurry no matter where I'm going and the shitty driving of others grates on my nerves. This is yet another reason why the complete stopage of time or so it seemed for the majority of the weekend was totally, amazingly relaxing.

I listened to an audio version of "Killing Yourself to Live: 85% of a True Story" by Chuck Klosterman on my way to work since it's an hour drive. I listen to a lot of audio books. I tell people I read a lot of books when actually half of them are the audio version since I drive so much. I look at it like this: I still am getting the exact information in the book, it's just entering my ears instead of my eyes. If you don't think this counts as the same thing I don't care and I don't like you anyhow so fuck off.

I'm pretty sure that the listening to Klosterman and all his highly detailed ramblings which tend to be assembled in an only slightly orderly manner had something to do with my keen awareness of every shitty detail this morning, some of which I've left out do to time constraints. I finally got to the town that I work in and that's when it really hit me. Holy fucking christ is this place depressing. I hate this town more than anything that I have ever hated before, I want it to blow up, and then be erased from all maps ever created and all history books ever written. It always snows here, there are 9 fucking foot high snow drifts and it's not even fucking cold. How the hell does his occur? This town is proof there is no god because if there were he would flood it or crack the earth and swallow it into the abyss of hell where it belongs. There's never any sun here either, I think that's proof to the contrary of my previous statement. There is a god and he fucking hates this place too and everybody in it and so he wants them to suffer for all of their soulless existence in mind numbing gloom.

This place reminds me of Silent Hill. I keep half expecting a fucking fire siren to go off and while all of the humans disappear I'll be surrounded by demonic mutations of what once were humans but are now simply the damned.




I'm telling you, one day this is going to happen to me and then you will all be sorry that you didn't listen. You're going to feel terrible when I am trapped in an alternate reality with these creatures so I want you to know I did not simply disappear, I am in Silent Hill. Is it too much to wish for Armageddon so I don't have to deal with this anymore?

The problem just gets worse when I go to Country Fair to get a breakfast sandwich. I hate country fair in general, it's a stupid convenience store and it irritates me. This particular one is even more stupid because everybody who works there is borderline retarded. They take forever to operate the cash register, they walk too goddamn slow, they think and talk even slower. All of this makes my brain run laps in anger inside my head while they fuck fuck fuck around and I just want to pay for my shit and go to work so I can get yet another day behind me in life. At the same time I enter so do three kids, I hate kids, but I hate these three kids more. I know why I hate kids in general but I don't know why I dislike these ones more. I think it's partially because they're always there when I am every morning and they're always in front of me in line taking up my valuable time. They also always buy coffee, the oldest one can't even be 15 years old. Kids don't need coffee! Kids shouldn't be allowed to have coffee! Not because I'm concerned for their health because I'm not, I don't care if it erodes their liver and they die from it. No, I just know kids are irritating enough without added caffeine or sugar and therefore, I do not want them to have it.

There are also several slack jawed hillbillies hanging out outside the place as always. They just stand here and drink coffee, they have no other purpose in life aside from coffee and uselessness. I hate them, looking all jobless and several years unshaven. They babel in some incoherent, cave-people-talk that I can't understand as they stare at me like a catholic priest would look at a little boy's ass. Everybody in this town knows everybody else and I'm an outsider so I raise their suspicions. One of these days I'm going to learn to start fires with my mind and then these guys are fucked.

I didn't comb my hair this morning! Do you know what occurs when I don't comb my hair in the morning? Nothing happens, nothing at all and I hate that! I want something to happen, I want to brush my hair and have it change shape but I can't and I don't and it doesn't! My hair brush was still in my travel bag this morning because I didn't unpack anything last night and I was too apathetic to unzip that bag and remove it... fuck it. I grabbed a pair of blue safety glasses off my stand and after running my fingers through my hair once I placed the glasses in it to hold it back and out of my face.

When I got to the office this morning there was one guy here. That annoyed me as well. Not because he was here but because he's always here. No matter what time you show up, 24 hours a day, he will be here, sitting at this desk, sound asleep. How badly must one have to hate their home or their wife or whatever, to spend all of their time at work. No matter how unhappy I may be I can always look at this guy and be thankful that I am not him. I would drive my car off a cliff at what the investigating officer would be forced to classify as "an excessively high rate of speed."

I got here 10 minutes before the rest of the people who sit in my corner of the office. We're in a small room with just three of us. I never turn on the overhead lights because I fucking hate fluorescent lighting. I'm pretty sure these lights are the anti-christ. They make my eyes hurt and give me a headache but yet my boss will still come back and say "let me turn on some lights for you." He knows I hate the lights, I grumble and make snarky comments every single time he does that. What he should say is, I know you hate lights but I want you to suffer as much ass possible so let me turn on some lights because I would like you to be in misery for the remainder of the day.

Not 5 minutes after the lights come on my coworkers arrive and it takes all of 1/100 of a second for story time to begin spinning tales of grandeur and glory. Story time is my cube neighbor and I figure that most of you can guess why I nicknamed him as I did. This guy has more stories than any 9,000 annoying old men. Most of these stories have nothing to do with anything resembling entertaining and very few of them are likely even true. He will happily interrupt anything that is going on or that others are talking about to interject something that he feels the need to say, even if it's a totally different topic. His entire life revolves around frolicking in the forest with some sort of firearm and trying desperately to murder something, anything, and as many of it as possible. When story time is done slaughtering things he comes to work and spends all day talking about it to anybody who will listen... as well as those who show no interest at all. His stories are excruciatingly long and drawn-out and make me want to stab at my eardrums with a sawn off spork as I bash my head off the wall like a retard having a fit. He doesn't even go to the cube of the person to whom he's telling the story, he just shouts it off the fucking wall and lets it bounce to and fro, until it lands in the cube of the intended recipient. These stories are maddening, I hate hunting more and more every day, this could be my downfall. One day my brain will just burst out the top of my head and shatter into glitter as it rains down on my now lifeless corpse.

I got apple juice today thinking that might help somewhat. Apple juice made me feel better as a kid. This apple juice doesn't make me feel any better. It's still raining outside on the snow drifts. I'm in this snowy redneck hell, I'm at work, I'm unable to concentrate on the things I need to concentrate on, because there's someplace I would rather be. If you watch carefully... or read carefully, you can almost visualize my mind leaving, it is packing it's shit and going away, presumably without a forwarding address.

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