What I'm asking myself

How am I going to make a living?

I do make a living of sorts. But just barely. Not in money terms: I did okay last year. But in terms of satisfaction, desire to do it, enjoyment: these are all forgotten, hopeless dreams. I have tons of ideas how I could diversify my income, but they all seem like uphill struggles, doomed to failure. This is not the voice of defeatism; I'm just not able to see how I would turn anything I could feasibly do into money -- most markets are already chockers with blaggers and bullshitters, and those are skills I've never mastered.

How can you love someone without nurturing them?

People throw the word around but if love doesn't mean "I want to give you something", what does it mean? The only people who ever love me are those who think that it means they should drain my oil, take what they need and leave me empty and gasping, up to my knees in sand. I am in a wasteland here; but what can I do? If I reach out, I am slapped back; not even slapped back -- the reaching hand is simply ignored.

I know, you think it's me. Anyone reading this will be thinking, it's you though. But it isn't. I am just who I am. If you love me, you are not loving a mirage; I don't shift and change. Maybe you do. If you are thinking this question translates into my whining "why isn't X spending time on me when I need it?" and you might be X, you are almost certainly right. I am strong but even the toughest needs caring for just occasionally.

Where can I hide?

I have acquired a whole life that I do not want and all I think about is digging a hole and hiding. I do everything from a sense of responsibility and nothing from any desire to.

When I was a teenager, I became convinced that I must be from another planet, because everyone was just fucking horrible and no one seemed to mind. I couldn't understand why they didn't mind it. No one was happy; no one was fulfilled; yet they could have been. They could have anything they wanted (if only they knew what they wanted). I wondered whether there was anywhere that I could go that wouldn't be so chockful with these aliens, who minded things that didn't matter and ignored things that did. (But when I went to the Magic Kingdom, aka London, I found that it was the same story, but with added mindlessness.)

Now I've realised. They didn't mind because minding is worse. Minding drowns you, crushes you. You don't become any happier. It's better to distract yourself by minding stuff that doesn't matter because minding what does will kill you quickly.

Should I let my children eat meat?

Zenella has become fat. She doesn't eat anything that would in a reasonable world pass as food. Mrs Zen can't cook and can't learn. (I first wrote "won't learn" but I suppose it's that she is incapable of learning more than that she wouldn't.) It's a real struggle to make a balanced diet for children who snub anything in the slightest healthy. Like all kids her age, Zenella has been seduced by Maccas. Good intentions go for nothing when other parents (including Mrs Zen) take your kids to places you don't want them taken and so they become addicted. I admit that I have been lax. I am no longer anything resembling a good father. I mostly look on in horror at my children. They have too much negativity in their lives. I do not know how to fix that. (Yes, I know. Be less negative. If it were that easy, we'd all be shiny happy whatsits, wouldn't we?)

I am thinking that I should just let Mrs Zen feed them all fish fingers. I should eat them myself. I hate food. I hate eating. I prefer crisps and sweets too. Nothing here tastes very nice. Eating out is a nightmare: anywhere that does bother with a "vegetarian option" (yes, you English types can forget the paradise of restaurants that actually have choices for veggies) doesn't bother making it edible. (Veggie stacks are not food. Aubergines are not meant to be made into pancakes. If they were, God would have arranged for chickens to lay them.)

We are all fat. It's impossible to stay thin. I live in urban sprawl so I drive. Anywhere I want to go is too far to walk. You can't just go outside. Half an hour outside and I'm sunburnt for three days.

Should I start smoking again?

I put on weight when I gave up smoking, which was bad. But what was worse was that I stopped being even close to sane. I spend my whole life on edge. I cannot calm down unless I'm doing something mindless -- so most of my life I do mindless, unproductive things.

And I'm no healthier, because I drink instead.

If I could magically restrict myself to ten a day, I'd start again tomorrow. But I know that I'd be up to thirty before a month was out.

And no, I cannot fix the underlying causes instead. I'd rather smoke than go there. Cheers.

posted by Dr Zen @ 1:01 pm