The Shidas Touch
Here’s my situation.
I just scratched the shit out of a truck that isn’t mine. Got a couple quotes from auto body shops. The total damages will run anywhere from three grand to just under 9 thousand.
My last paycheck was $228.37.
#winning.
This weeks paycheck will be in the double-digit range. Hooray.
Add that to the credit card debt and the other third-party debt and I am really living life to the fullest.
This is when the hate and self-loathing comes in.
I understand that there are those who scoff at those numbers. I am not one of them. I only remember one time in my life when my bank account had 5 figures in it. Only because of a US Treasury check which I really didn’t deserve. I spent that cash on being dumb (Drugs, Alcohol, and feeling good) which paired nicely with me falling asleep at the wheel and breaking two of the five metacarpals in my hand on the center divider of the freeway.
Bye bye money.
It is so easy to lie to yourself. To think your shit doesn’t stink. Conversely, it is easy to think that everything you touch gets reduced to a fraction of its former glory. I call that the Shidas touch. It’s like the story of King Midas, but instead of gold everything you touch turns to poo. I guess the differences between shit and gold is the smell, one gets you sick, and an indicator of how well you are doing.
Fuck I haven’t done this in a while.
Whatever.
You keep swinging as long as you are at the plate. I stepped away from the plate for too long. Here I am again.
I like sleeping.
Why?
Cause when I sleep I dream and get away from whatever existence I call this life of mine.
Then I wake up and see the sun.
Searing the reality that my dreams are just dreams. There are other people, and the only person they care about is themselves.
If I was a teacher, I would have a class, where we on the first day of class I would introduce myself to the students and then sit down and be quiet for the remaining 90 minutes. We would meet three times a week, attendance isn’t mandatory, and there would only be a final exam. Which would be a blank sheet of paper.
The message I am trying to convey is when there is no structured format it is difficult to utilize your time creatively and effectively, much like life.
I crossed the podium shook hands with the dean, and then wondered what the fuck I should do next. Unfortunately, that was three years ago this last April. As my initial remarks show I am really crushing this thing called life.
I don’t know why I do the things I do.
What are the things I do?
I go to the gym, with no real goal in mind. I destroy my body on Friday and Saturday nights because fuck that’s what is “Popular.” I play in a band. I try to use my smartphone to get smarter (Podcasts, language learning). I write because I like to believe I have something of value to say, but it is all just whining.
Let’s just say that 2017 as a whole can fuck right off.
I’ve kept the demons of depression far away with the proper doses of THC and inebriation.
Those demons didn’t go anywhere, they were just numbed until the pot or the money ran out.
Guess it is time to face the music now.
Since before my dad died, I would wake and bake, pretty consistently.
If you’ve followed my writings you know when I would write stoned, trying to rhyme like a fool.
Today was different.
I thought about it, and before I grabbed the green I asked myself “What happens if you don’t do this?”
The jagged edges of reality dug deep into my skin. It feels good to be alive, I guess.
The depression, just below the surface reared its ugly head.
It would be super nice if something good would happen to me.
Yet, if it did I probably would take it for granted. Cause I got the Shidas touch.
The good is always earned never given.
“Talk is an illness, action is the cure.”- Henry Rollins.
As I close this entry, I want to ask.
Why do fun and futility both start with “FU?”
Well, it is almost the end of the year and maybe just maybe next year will be better.
Good things come to those who work for it.
Maybe next year I will be above water.
Live Creatively,
Hang Tough,
Be Bold.
