Tuesday, August 29, 2006

On Barometric Pressure

It's late. I've had a long day. I have to be up in a few hours to drive to Michigan. I can't sleep. That, or I don't want to. I dunno.

Today I'm having one of my many typical existential crises which pop up from time to time like a herpes outbreak. God damn. A friend of mine blames my mood swings on barometric pressure; she says that on days when the barometric pressure is higher, peoples' brains start to tweak. All I know is that I've been on fucking edge all day. There was this inbred family of buck-tooth orangutan-looking people in front of me in line at Barnes and Noble this afternoon who spent almost $200 on Dungeons and Dragons books. Harmless, yes, and completely inconsequential to me, but these people irked me so much, I kind of seriously wanted to kill them. Violently. Involving much bloodshed. People such as this shouldn't be allowed to live. And it wasn't just the affinity for Dungeons and Dragons, it was the fact that they couldn't string together a complete sentence if there was a loaded cannon pointed at their face, it was the fact that they obviously had not bathed in probably years, it was the fact that they wore Looney Toons shirts that sucked rod even when they were popular in the mid-90's. And trucker hats. Oh, the trucker hats. Ashton Kutcher couldn't even save them.
And then I kind of realized that, in a really depressingly sick kind of way, I might be a little jealous of those hick butt munchers. Jealous because, clearly, they don't take the time out of their day to think about a single one of the things that causes me to freak out on a daily basis. They are totally cool with being ignorant, stupid, Dungeons and Dragons playing hicks who reek to high hell like bad Indian cooking, whereas I don't think I'll ever be content with anything. I overthink everything to the point where I want to shoot staples into my head. Lucky me.
Most days I curse the fact that I was born as intelligent as I was, and I wish that I could be content to let my will to live get raped by some shitty corporate desk job with a decent salary. That would be so much easier than riding the see-saw I'm on. I don't think there's a place for intelligent people on this planet anymore, honestly; we are devolving back into blathering ape mongoloids in suits and fast cars.
I'm not cut out for this shit. What utter fucking nonsense.


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