Quick note: I'm feeling more like myself than I did when I wrote the "Whatever" post. Thank you to all who asked.
This short (6 min) film is a moving depiction of how the other side lives.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Monday, April 06, 2009
Power of Whatever (indifferent case of logorrhea)
Life-long activist's biggest enemy: apathy. Today, I am the embodiment of that enemy. Fruitless, pointless, lifeless. Not gray or dark, but white. Simple lack. Not negative. Not depressed. Not feeling. Do my homework: fruitless. Reject this life completely and start over: Whatever. Live as a farmer: pointless. Devote life to others Mother Teresa-style: moral masturbation. Seclude myself and become a "monkette": too many rules, goals--too much to reject. Spend life on a beach: boring. Life is what I make of it? Eh. Life is what it is. This.
Not sad, angry, or rejected. I'm the indifferent rejector.
No explanation. No desire to find one or accurately articulate. Amorphous and convoluted: preferable. Words' precision would solidify; thus altering, defining, and shattering. Simple nothingness. No harmony. No peace. No violence. No destruction. Indifferent rejection, simultaneous blanket acceptance. I'm entertained by the backwardness. The opposite-ness to who I am most days. Curious. Interesting. This is the "abnormal" phase. To be overcome. To say "wiser" or "more real" elevates this condition and undoes it.
Sitting in the cushy chair of Starbucks watching passersby thinking they have some place to be or that they're enjoying the day. Aimless. Pointless.
I'm restless, energetic, antsy, passive, directionless. A smile. I'm enjoying my antithetical condition. I know my normal, happy, well-adjusted self would be displeased with my current disposition--in a non-judgemental way, of course.
Whatever. Not trying to rebel or deliberately reject--implies purpose, intent. I'm without.
I'm the anti-Nicole. Nothing pleases. Nothing displeases. Personification of "whatever."
I see bright sunshine, and like the pressed button of a laugh track, I produce a canned response, "the sun's nice." Most days I'd mean it. Today, I'm just glad it's not cloudy. The dreariness would have likely corrupted my non-ness into something gloomy. The sun purifies my apathy.
An observer. Disengaged. Uninvolved.
Should try to snap out of it. Don't care. Kind of like it here. New and different... in it's cliched indifference.
Last night I changed the banner on my phone--a message to see every time I flip open my "communicator"--to something that might spark inspiration or motivation: "why not?" Conversely, today the overwhelming question is "why?"
I search the street for something to engage me. Bright red hair... ! I'll dye my hair, pierce a facial feature, get a tattoo. I'm interested. Piqued. A feeling. Should I? The irony of my "cure" being rebellious, superficial alterations amuses me. Do it to be ironic? No one would get my joke. Who cares if they would. Too much effort. Pointless. I'm over it.
... I'll jump in the Aloha Tower Harbor. I'll walk down the street with no pants. Too much attention. Nothing to rebel against. No statements. No point.
I'm wearing a fuzzy gray Muppet-fur poncho around my neck; it's soft. I like it. Oh, I like something. Over it.
I'm spent. I am aware that my vain attempt to describe my thoughts today has somewhat defiled their purity. Oh well. To any (unfortunate) readers who've happened upon this anomalous entry (read: Mom), please be assured that I'm fine and have probably "recovered" by the time you've finished reading this. (Luckily, my moods are also transient.) I thought the sheer uniqueness of this post added diversity to the normally more poignant blog; thus making it worthy of sharing. However, I am fully aware that it likely came across as nonsensical drivel. And I'm ok with that. Remember? I don't care.
Not sad, angry, or rejected. I'm the indifferent rejector.
No explanation. No desire to find one or accurately articulate. Amorphous and convoluted: preferable. Words' precision would solidify; thus altering, defining, and shattering. Simple nothingness. No harmony. No peace. No violence. No destruction. Indifferent rejection, simultaneous blanket acceptance. I'm entertained by the backwardness. The opposite-ness to who I am most days. Curious. Interesting. This is the "abnormal" phase. To be overcome. To say "wiser" or "more real" elevates this condition and undoes it.
Sitting in the cushy chair of Starbucks watching passersby thinking they have some place to be or that they're enjoying the day. Aimless. Pointless.
I'm restless, energetic, antsy, passive, directionless. A smile. I'm enjoying my antithetical condition. I know my normal, happy, well-adjusted self would be displeased with my current disposition--in a non-judgemental way, of course.
Whatever. Not trying to rebel or deliberately reject--implies purpose, intent. I'm without.
I'm the anti-Nicole. Nothing pleases. Nothing displeases. Personification of "whatever."
I see bright sunshine, and like the pressed button of a laugh track, I produce a canned response, "the sun's nice." Most days I'd mean it. Today, I'm just glad it's not cloudy. The dreariness would have likely corrupted my non-ness into something gloomy. The sun purifies my apathy.
An observer. Disengaged. Uninvolved.
Should try to snap out of it. Don't care. Kind of like it here. New and different... in it's cliched indifference.
Last night I changed the banner on my phone--a message to see every time I flip open my "communicator"--to something that might spark inspiration or motivation: "why not?" Conversely, today the overwhelming question is "why?"
I search the street for something to engage me. Bright red hair... ! I'll dye my hair, pierce a facial feature, get a tattoo. I'm interested. Piqued. A feeling. Should I? The irony of my "cure" being rebellious, superficial alterations amuses me. Do it to be ironic? No one would get my joke. Who cares if they would. Too much effort. Pointless. I'm over it.
... I'll jump in the Aloha Tower Harbor. I'll walk down the street with no pants. Too much attention. Nothing to rebel against. No statements. No point.
I'm wearing a fuzzy gray Muppet-fur poncho around my neck; it's soft. I like it. Oh, I like something. Over it.
I'm spent. I am aware that my vain attempt to describe my thoughts today has somewhat defiled their purity. Oh well. To any (unfortunate) readers who've happened upon this anomalous entry (read: Mom), please be assured that I'm fine and have probably "recovered" by the time you've finished reading this. (Luckily, my moods are also transient.) I thought the sheer uniqueness of this post added diversity to the normally more poignant blog; thus making it worthy of sharing. However, I am fully aware that it likely came across as nonsensical drivel. And I'm ok with that. Remember? I don't care.
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