Mass confusion

It is said that not understanding something leads to fearing it. Well, maybe not understanding people leads to misanthropy. I don’t get the thousands of things people do every day. I don’t get their thought processes. I don’t get them.

I don’t understand why people (usually women) are so desperate to get married that who they marry is practically irrelevant. I don’t get why anyone would spend tens of thousands of dollars on a party no one but the couple will remember in a year’s time. Yeah, I’ve been to plenty of weddings—no one remembers them (there was a woman in a white dress of some sort, right?) Why not spend that money on something worthwhile, like a house or a trip, or, hey, give it to charity. Wouldn’t it be a better use of the money to give it to those who need it, rather than stressing over flowers and table settings and the font on the invitations? If that’s the best day of your life, you’re in trouble.

I don’t comprehend people who spend their entire lives in school. Education is a good thing. Over-education is a waste of time. I’ve known people who go back for degree after degree, in the most useless subjects you can think of, and never do anything with them. Or they keep changing their areas of study, never finishing anything, but always claiming to be a student (it’s a good excuse for why they haven’t done anything else with their lives—like move out of their parents’ basement). On the other hand, I don’t get the people who refuse an education and then complain that there are no opportunities for them (they think that’s a good excuse for why they’re not doing anything with their lives).

I don’t get roller derbies, or HumVees outside of military use, or Dr. Phil. I don’t get really upscale restaurants that try to convince you to re-mortgage your house for a plate of organ meats (or the people who pay and rave about it). I don’t get those wooden cutouts of fat people bending over that people put in their gardens. I don’t get why Gen X is trying so hard to emulate the most pathetic of all generations, the Boomers. I don’t get plastic surgery that makes you look like a blow-up doll. Or girls who dress up their tiny dogs and carry them around like the latest cool accessory. Or TV networks that cancel the amazing shows after a few episodes (RIP Firefly) and let the dreck go on and on (and then turn it into movies). I don’t get yummy mummies or tanning salons or curling (the sport). I don’t get oenophiles or raw foodists or freegans.

Mostly, I don’t get how everyone else gets this stuff.

Human Nature

I am sick of feeling like my insides are being torn out after hearing stories about assholes abusing, torturing, and killing pets*. The latest involves a pair of soulless teenagers in Alberta, the neighbour’s cat, and a microwave. How broken do you have to be to feel good about torturing a helpless creature to death? How fucking pathetic are you to think tormenting something smaller than you makes you strong? These two sat through the trial, listening to what they had done and how much the cat suffered, without even showing any emotion. And you know what kind of sentence these serial-killers-in-training got? A year of probation and 100 hours community service. Yeah, that’ll learn them. I think a human-sized microwave and fifteen minutes on the clock would be more appropriate. This isn’t about animal rights, it’s about basic human decency—something that seems to be in shorter supply every day.

*I'm talking about any companion-type animal here, including the ones that don't actually belong to anyone.

Du hast mich

I had a dream about you last night. You were the way you used to be, back before you lost yourself. You were smiling like you did before you were crushed. Before you let yourself be crushed. And you looked at me like you still cared. When I woke up, I could still feel you against me. I want to find you and make things right. I want you to find your way back on your own. But you’re trapped inside what you think you should be. And I’m trapped where you left me, writing to empty air.

For a minute there, you had me worried

On the subway today, I was suddenly overcome with a feeling of great affection for all the people I saw on the platform. They all seemed fascinating, and I wanted to get to know them and hear their stories.

I got myself home and lay down until the feeling went away.

Just like a normal person

I'm sad a lot. I'm sad that Douglas Adams died young while Anne Rice lives on, like one of her effete characters. I'm sad that people I love keep dying or leaving or losing themselves. I'm sad that the animals at the zoo look so depressed, and more so that it's still probably the best place for them. I'm sad that idiots can kill endangered animals for sport (or at all). I'm sad that young women care more about their purses and shoes than anything of real value. I'm sad that young men seem to think it's okay to be useless. I'm sad that people think being a spoiled brat is something to aspire to. I'm sad that in an overpopulated world people will go to ridiculous lengths to overpopulate it even more. I'm sad that religion is used (and accepted) as an excuse for all manner of atrocities. I'm sad that the people who should be leading are more concerned with attaining and maintaining power.

But, you know, I just can't bring myself to give a shit about the real or manufactured woes of attention-seeking celebrities (it's interesting that they suddenly feel the need to "share" their stories just as their new movie/album/reality show is coming out). Can we go back to actual news now?