The Best Kind Of Loathing

February 9, 2007 at 10:10 PM | Posted in Personal | 1 Comment
  I wanted to do some soul-searching and introspection, but I was hoping it wouldn’t turn into some sort of self-loathing diatribe and Terret’s Syndrome flailing of my psyche over past mistakes, misdeeds, and missteps.
  . . .Too little, too late, for one reason:  I have something else in mind.  For another, I may have already done that.  I don’t want to be repetitive.  Let me repeat myself:  I don’t want to repeat the past.
  But I am writing about my life, and this was a part of it.

  My initial feeling after hearing of Anna Nicole Smith’s death was, "So?"
  My residual thought afterwards was to ask, "Do you feel smarter?  Because I do.  Everyone on the planet should feel smarter, because she brought down the collective average of the human race.  If you took an IQ test last week, and then take one this week, you will probably score 10 points higher."
  But whenever someone dies of a drug related thing–and this certainly was, even if her toxology report comes back negative; her past behavior is proof, if not an idictment–it gives me pause for reflection.
  I don’t want to take away from the contempt I feel for ANS for the life she wasted, but I can see similarities to mine.  Maybe that’s why I feel the contempt.  Kindred spirits?  Ugh.  Other than the fact that during the brief periods of time when she was thin and I wanted to bang her silly, I really wanted nothing to do with her and scarcely gave her a second thought.
  Our similarities?  Other than our good looks and promiscuous attitude, you mean?
  Well, we both had something.  She had looks, and I had brains.  And we both may have been destined for something great.  She had attempts at fame, I should have done something. . . er~ ~something *great.*  Big sigh here.
  And we both had weaknesses.  We both had an addiction-craving personality, we both wanted the easy way out, and we both had little control over our addictions.
  ANS lived in a world of glamour and the rich and famous, full of decadence and deviant lifestyles and no one to tell her no.  She became a public embarrassment and spiraled, deeper and deeper.
  I lived in a fog.  I flitted along, from event to event, not really attaching myself with any real conviction to anything.  I used to think the drugs robbed me of some of my brains, my intelligence.  Now I don’t think so.
  I did just recently take a test, and it shows me to be as smart as I ever was, as smart as I think I was. . .which, without bragging too much (more to make a point,actually, so let’s just say–) I was very smart.  Maybe enough to be considered a genius, or at least near genius.
  I think the drugs robbed me of something as equally important if not more important:  Ambition.  Ambition and drive are the things that make people way less intelligent than I become way more rich and successful.  What little ambition I had got sucked right out of my body.  If ambition is your life’s blood, drugs are a vampire that eats at your soul, until yo become one of the walking dead.
  Surprisingly, I remember many of my drug-induced moments, the ones that mirror ANS’s public displays of idiocy.  I see people acting like that and I just cringe–
  I heard someone talking about the pain they are hiding behind with their drug use.  That makes them sound like a tragic, romantic figure.  Trust me, it’s not that.  I was there, and I know.  Maybe alcoholics occasionally use it to alleviate the pain in their lives that was caused by their alcoholism in the first place; if so, it’s a vicious cylce:  "My wife left me because I got drunk and beat her.  Now I miss her.  I need a drink."  Et cetera, ad infinitum, ad nauseum.
  You do the drugs because you like it.  You like the feeling.  The happiness, the euphoria, the wandering mind.  My mom liked to sleep.  I know why–she liked to dream.  She enjoyed living in the dreamworld moreso than living in the real one.  I like it to; I can hit the snooze button in perpetuity, having one 8-minute dream after another.  Drugs provide that same thing.  You’re not hiding from pain, you’re just seeking pleasure.  An easy fix.  And it is. . .addictive.
  But you have to live in the real world, the here-and-now.  Have to?  Well, you should, okay?

  I cleaned up, of my own volition and through strength from God.  Not any numerically-defined step program–I just made a decision.  And I stuck with it.  Thus, ANS and I parted ways.
  And so I lived my life, and she lived hers.  I have no idea what her live was like, barely an inkling.  And she had no idea of mine; that’s fair.  I worked, I raised a family, I made plans for the future.
  And I always wanted more.  I had no idea what I wanted, and definitely no idea how to achieve it; I floated rudderless in a sea of ADD-powered indecision and inaction.
  There were so many things I wanted to do:  Writing, drawing, designing, creating.  I wanted–
  I wanted to be Leonardo DaVinci, and be the architect of a new Renaissance.  I wanted to be Plato, and usher in new age of reason.  I wanted to be Euclid, and think about and teach math to the philosphers.  I wanted to be Ben Franklin, and have a hand in everything, but be responsible for nothing; I would be the secret vazir, wise counsel to the leaders of the world, but not involved in government directly, for I would be above that sort of thing.
  I wanted to be Bill Patterson, and draw a cartoon strip that would inspire and delight millions.  I wanted to be Thomas Edison of the computer age, and develop and build robots for household use, just like on the Jetsons, only better.
  I wanted to be Edgar Allen Poe, or Jack Kerouak, or Ernest Hemingway, and write the great American Novel.  Or I at least wanted to be be Carl Hiassen or Dave Barry, and be published.  I wanted to be Charlie Chaplan, or Henry Youngman.  Or Bill Cosby.  Or Jeff Foxworthy.
  Or Hell, even Larry the Cable Guy. . .

  So here I sit, spinning my wheels.  I think I’m starting to pull out of the mud, however.  I have some rocking action going, and I’m starting to gain some traction.  And some people have come along to help push; that’s important.  Pick something you want to do, that’s what I decided.  There is a list, a big list.  I have it.  Pick something from that list, and do it.  Work on it, make it happen.
  Like a basket of lottery numbers, I have picked out a few, and I am going to play them for a while, and see where they take me.  If it doesn’t work, I can pull out some more.  But you can’t win if you don’t play, now–am I right?
  Otherwise you just sit and watch the basket spin, and wish.


1 Comment »

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  1. I\’m really glad you\’re not any of those people.. most of them are dead.
    And I\’m glad we narrowed the list down, because there was just too much on it and it was making me dizzy. Hey! I know what you\’re thinking, so just stop it! Shush!
    love ya

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