Chapter One
I’m not, like, the smartest person ever.
I mean, I don’t think I’m the dumbest person ever. I’ve certainly met people that are, objectively, dumber than me.
But if I think back to even the last few weeks of my life while writing, not even my life in it’s entirety at its current state, I have had more than one moment where someone has pointed out something to me that in hindsight was so glaringly fucking obvious, it might as well have hit me in the face with concrete boxing gloves.
How is it, that even now as I have lived quite a while now, that I still have so much to learn? And the lessons I thought I had learned relatively well, I keep learning over and over, like a well turned wheel on a cart?
And why do I have a terrible sinking feeling that it will always be like this?
I think I am so clever, popping in and out of social settings on my whims. Following my emotions, my feeling. Going with what I want. The chaos storm that is my life.
And yet...isn’t that the pattern I have always followed for some time now?
And isn’t it becoming...well I hate to say predictable, but just that? The very thing I do not want to be? Ugh, the horror. Predictable. gross. Boring. Like my dad’s mother.
Grandma, or Fini as she is known to everyone else, is very predictable in her patterns. She likes control. And when you don’t bend to her whims, she lays on the guilt trips. “why don’t you love me?” She will ask you, as the tears start to well up in her eyes (oh yes, she is quite excellent at crying on demand). If you dig your heels in or draw a stricter boundary, she will try more covert methods to get her way, or to make you feel guilty. Including, but not limited to messing with her insulin pump and making herself go into a diabetic coma.
If you are a fan of the theatrics, see me later, I will pass along her address.
Because as dramatic and exciting as it may sound to you, I have been living with that for over two decades. I can tell you which maneuvers she will utilize in various situations. It’s...boring and predictable.
And now I have become boring and predictable to myself.
Shit even Netflix knows what I want to watch. Outside of pushing every single Netflix produced show onto me. No, I do not want to watch Emily in Paris, Good Lord.
Even the mere fact that I don’t want to be boring and predictable is in itself boring and predictable. Boo. Boo that.
So how do we change? Switch it up? The opposite would be to...do what would be predictable? Or am I about to fall into some weird complex Quantum Realm/Matrix like theory here, that I can barely spell let alone understand?
Seriously, thank the gods for auto correct.
Maybe life is just always destined to be a series of patterns. That is literally what biology is anyways...just copies of DNA...so is it really our fault when the pattern just ultimately repeats itself into oblivion?
Who are we to stop what has happened for billions of years before us? I mean, the absolute massive ego we have to think we can solve everything, start and stop processes that have gone one for as long as time exists ands also assume there are no other intelligent life forms and only one TRUE GOD?
People...truly...actually believe that to be a solid straight fact, no bullshit.
