I’ve had an odd month, it’s been one of those months when life doesn’t seem like it’s gonna give you a break any time soon. A good friend postulated that life just realized I’m turning 20 soon and decided to give me a painfully accelerated crash course which I might as well gain experience from.
It gets me thinking about how people think a baby dear surviving in the jungle all on its own is so damn tough, hah. Well, Bambi, wait till you get a whiff of this. Humans have it a lot worse, they’re handling the animal/neanderthal/intelligent beings/psychotic mutants integrated version of survival’s book. That’s numerically quadruple the work, but would amount to a lot more if the value was assigned according to the level of difficulty. We’re looking at a six figure here people. It doesn’t seem like it’s taking any coffee breaks, because it’s been surely interrupting mine.
I woke up this morning and it took me thirty minutes of all the verbal variation of ‘Everything’s gonna be just fine, I’m stronger than this shit’ to muster up the guts to get out of bed, because somehow, right there, with the lights off, doors closed, no people, no technology and no phone, absolutely no means of connection to the outside world, it felt like I could finally pause life, or at least its effect reaching me. The blanket was the cape that deflected all the warped psychic bullets coming out of everywhere.
But then I needed coffee, and it was all the way to the kitchen, passing through a vulnerable time tunnel with phones, laptops, people and news broadcast in the way. You could say that coffee got me out of bed and saved the day. And it’s not even Irish.
Work is good, I’ve voluntarily been working for almost 10 hours, and I’m not done yet. I’ve got another 8 ahead, and it’s splendid. It’s amazing in the way how it takes the guilt and all the unnecessary brain activity and turns you into a happy bot. I’ve always wondered why the natural course of life would state it logical to put our brains on overdrive while our bodies were on overdrive, but looking at it with a glass-half-full-of-coffee perspective, it now makes sense that puberty and high-school are simultaneous, much like how a drunkard’s vehicle would only revert to uniform velocity when it’s reached maximum acceleration. Either on its own would leave too much room for thinking which has a small possibility of making room for your creativity as opposed to a humongous and a more likely possibility that you’ll have enough time on your hands and ram in your head to fuck up irrevocably. Conclusion? Burnouts are in badger-less bliss.
Also, white tea is great for all-nighters, because it offers the comfort of the illusion that you might or might not get sleep some time soon, which is otherwise eliminated with a caffeinated shot up cranium in a mug of coffee or a guiltily fattening coke. It doesn’t mean you’ll sleep soon, it just means you can if you want to, and the choice is always liberating. Even in a stupid little irrelevant thing, because let’s face it, you’re more likely to hang around if you don’t really have to. It makes you look at the piles of Advanced Maths and Physics with the rejuvenated lust of a hook up rather than the grudge of a spouse.
Along the lines of all-nighters and white tea, help could come from more unexpected routes, like a med student who happened to be up at just the right time, ogling a glaucoma text with a droopy sleepless eye. A shout out to all the little tools of desperate luck coming at you from all the angles you’d have your butt towards at just the wrong time who manage to hit you in the back of the head with an annoying little hopeful blow.
Funny thing happened today, when I recounted the series of unfortunate events to one of the odd birds I call friends, I was called lucky, and it made me think about how of all the adjectives, lucky was the one to fill the designated clearing. Maybe being lucky doesn’t necessarily mean the right things happening to you at the right time, but rather the wrong things happening to you at all the wrong times just because you, of all people, were up for it. It would give off the sense that you’re a working-class underrated hero, which is yet another illusion that humans seem to find comforting. Another shout out to the old soul who said that weakness is a self-fulfilling prophecy, taking people’s word is much like looking in a reverse mirror and first impressions are a second chance at a third person perspective.
And for now, I leave you with the thought that bad things might be an indicative, though a paramount fail at a funny cosmic joke, that you’re up for great things, regardless of how little you are.
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