If Love Makes us Human, I Wish to be a Potato.

The majority of us will occasionally have day where we get punched in the heart. Depending on how attractive/charismatic you are (or in most cases the lack of such qualities) you may experience this on a number of occasions. I am of course referring to that oft mentioned feeling of unrequited love. If you have never felt this, then fuck you.

We’re obsessed with love and the loss of it, and the never having of it with particular persons. Just look at the history of song writing. Sorrowful love ballad after angry ‘why don’t you love me song.’ In order to understand this feeling it’s key to understand just what love is. Now the best minds throughout time have struggled with this one. It is in essence, what makes us human. There are infatuations, which can range from mild to severe, crushes, which are always mild… and there are the odd ones where you fall in love with an actress you’ll never meet and email her agent video clips of you weeping.

Then there is that feeling. The profound, inexplicable feeling that rests in your chest and drops down to your stomach and then shudders through you whole body. This is the real deal. This is love, and it’s scary and irritating and disrupts your sleep, and makes you late for work, then they say “why are you late for work?” And you say “I’m in love!” and they say “Well whatever, we’re docking your pay!”

There is no explanation from this. That is what makes it a truly human feeling. It is safe from the clinical eyes of the scientist who has a deep rooted obsession with trying to break things down into their constituent parts and give them long, sciencey sounding names. It is separate from lust. For when you get this feeling, sex is often far from your mind. In fact, you will be prepared to watch an entire season of that ‘Unbreakable Kimmy Shmidt’ sitcom with them, just to be in the same room. To give you an idea of just how profound that statement is, the ‘hit American sitcom’ is awful… it is, my flatmate watched the whole thing, and even when I wasn’t in the same room I was filled with the urge to smash some plates and use the shards to gouge out my own eyes. Words do not do this feeling justice, so to adequately describe it, I want you to start screaming. Not in a shrill way, nor a scared way an interrupted, disjointed scream that has no external cause.

Have you done it?

I’ll know if you’re lying… good.

Now there are two things you can do (technically three, but the third involves snapping and murdering everyone) when this intense feeling of love is not reciprocated by the unwitting vessel of your adoration.

  1. Act cooool it doesn’t really matter. It’s only feelings at the end of the day… nobody died (apart from you… on the inside) let’s continue with an amicable friendship. Push those feelings down, bottle them up until they mature like a fine wine.
  2. Go down fighting. List, in a reasonable way, all the reasons why loving you would be beneficial for everyone. Make sure they know just how you feel. Play them the above sound clip if needs be. Fight back against all their arguments. If they bring out the line ‘I just don’t like you in that way’ thinking that would be the end of it, grab a hold of their leg and scream “LOVE ME!” whilst oceans of tears leak from your besotted eyes.

Neither one does much to quell the potent brew of sorrow, regret and anger. Yes there is anger, anger directed at the world for being so cruel. Why give you these feelings if they will amount to nothing? Save to bolster record sales?

People will try to placate you, play down the tragedy that has befallen you.

“There’s plenty more fish in the sea.” Is what many like to say. Alas, this is an outdated phrase as, due to over fishing and pollution, our fish stocks are rapidly dwindling. The phrase should be “there ain’t many fish left! Fuck, what have we done?”

I get the point however; there are lots of people in the world (potentially incorrect use of the semi-colon there, please feel free to say so). The laws of probability dictate that no matter how unlovable you are, someone will be able to power through for the sake of killing loneliness.

When you are reeling from a shattered soul, a pulverised heart and a crushed mind this is not helpful, especially if it comes from the person you love.

There may be plenty of fish, but those stricken by love are taken by one fish. And, this phrase seems to forget the old adage: it’s quality, not quantity that matters. There is no helping at a time like this. The only course of action is to drink a lot and be alone with your self-pity.

In the weeks that follow, the outside world will become a terrible place. It’s filled with them. The happy people. The people that walk around holding hands with their significant other, desperate to show the world just how happy they are. Look! We’ve found love, isn’t that nice? They’ll parade this love before you, mocking you with it. Some will even go so far as to embrace – in public! Fuck them. They are bad people. Happy people are terrible people.

Every person you meet will somehow, unbidden, mention a boyfriend or a girlfriend. You, being bitter and twisted will enquire as to the quality. Hoping to pull at a thread that unravels their love, leaving it one ruined and smelly knitted love jumper. TAKE THAT LOVE!

But they’ll disappoint you ‘we love each other!’ of course they do, or worse – they’ll be in that content stage of a relationship, where they are effectively one person, their love doesn’t need to be spoken, it’s evident in the fact that they have week long arguments about washing powder. People who don’t love one another don’t waste time with such conflict.

Love is painful. It’s very very painful.

If love is what makes us human, I wish to be a potato.

TheFuzzyRambler.

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Do what you love and you’ll never have to work a day in your life – apart from on weekdays

Do what you love and you’ll never have to work a day in your life.

This statement, like all things happy-go-lucky and optimistic, annoys me to no end. It sounds all well and good, until you realise the job market is becoming increasingly slim and competitive that you’ll probably have to get a job in a coffee shop, or temping in an office whilst you do what you love on the side. Which makes for more of a cumbersome statement.

I love hiding in wardrobes. No one is willing to pay me to do that, and my rent is extortionate. The idea of everyone doing what they love is not feasible. The economy would plummet. The world’s population would be made up of musicians, painters, writers and people hiding in wardrobes. If we’re going to adopt this view, we’d best hope that a lot of people love the idea of working in Tesco, otherwise we’ll never get our groceries.

Perhaps, I am taking the statement far too literally – I do operate at that end of the spectrum where I take most things at face value. Maybe what is meant is – whatever you are doing, do your best to try and love it. Focus on the plus points, on the bonuses and the people, even if you hate them. That sounds good doesn’t it? So if you work in sewage treatment, you could focus on the knowledge that you’ll get a lot of money and the job market in your chosen field will never get too competitive. Or my personal favourite perk of that job: you can get a certain level of satisfaction knowing that you literally have to wade through and sort out everyone’s faecal matter rather than just metaphorically. It makes for a good conversation starter.

Wherever you work and in whatever field, find ways to make it satisfying. Find ways to make it amusing. Find ways to get through the day. I often find not wearing underpants gives me enough of a kick to get me through to lunchtime, but each to their own. It can be anything. There is that old saying ‘only boring people get bored.’ Which ironically, is usually said by incredibly dull individuals, but for the purpose of churning out more words, I will adopt its philosophy. If you find yourself bored in the office, find ways to make it entertaining. A creative type will always find ways to amuse themselves. Insert song lyrics into emails, see how many people notice. See how many coffees you can drink before you collapse in a caffeine induced fit of anxiety and despair. Become the guy who’s memorised the company handbook so you can pedantically quote it at other people to make their day slightly worse. Stand up and loudly declare ‘life is too short for this nonsense and I shall not waste another second!’ then storm out and never come back.

Maybe not. So what then?

In working life there appear to be two things of importance.

  1. A necessity to work to earn enough money not to be hungry.
  2. A personal necessity for self-fulfilment.

The trick is trying to keep the two balanced.

It’s true there are fulfilling things that don’t pay a great deal, just as there are jobs that pay enough to not be hungry, but to many are deeply unfulfilling. We seem to need both in order to live happy lives, I could get into Karl Marx’s alienation theory, but I sat through those lectures myself, and found they were incredibly boring so I shan’t.

Fulfilment may not necessarily come from occupational achievements, or doing a job you like, but from the location in which you live. If you’re not happy with this, change that first… then focus on a satisfying career… although to do so would require money, which in turn requires a job, which would directly influence where you can live. See, it’s all rather complicated. The people that live by this statement are either incredibly lucky, pretentious fuckwits with rich parents; or just find repetitive and menial tasks interesting and therefore consider themselves to be living the dream when analysing data.

I don’t really know where I’m going with this. I just really hate that quote, and I want everyone to stop using it.

 

Good Evening Fellow Human… I Appreciate Your Appearance

Hello.

Through reading these letters you are connecting yourself with me. Just by rolling your eyes over these words

Meaningless words.

you are forming a bond with me, that given the right circumstances might be stronger than that between lovers. Between the best of friends.

Or is that too deep for a Monday evening? Is that the pretentious ramblings of an alcohol fuelled fool?

I don’t know, but I have some poems for you if you’re interested. If you’re not. then what are you still doing here?

Imagine if I was a duck. How cool would that be?

I’d go…. Quack! QUACK!

But I would not quack a third time, as that would just be silly. I’d likely be shot, or disenfranchised from the duck and poultry community.

anyway, poem the first.

 

One day, far in the future,

I may look back and

think.

maybe, just maybe, at this moment

I was on the

brink.

of happiness.

 

And in my idleness I’ll discover

that ecstasy comes not just from

a lover.

it comes from another

just willing

……………………………to be.

 

With all their intricacies and

complexities, they feel completely

at ease.

just being.

 

and one day far in the future

I’ll look back

and wonder why I didn’t

just be. Why I tried so hard

not to be me just to see

if you’d still be.

 

but at least I will know

even if I didn’t show

that I was very close

……………… so close.

to being happy.

 

 

There that was nice wasn’t it? No? Everyone’s a critic these days.

 

Imagine being all alone. In the world, imagine if everyone disappeared. That’d be quite nice wouldn’t it? I could sleep all day then without people poking me with sticks and telling me to do things. I wouldn’t have to pretend to care about people and their problems, and problems and their people.

Hah, remember that time when I said imagine if I was a duck?

 

this poem is called BORED.

 

Boredboredboredboredboredbored

boredboredboredboredboredbored

I’mbored! Bored bored bored bald

hah, I just said bald, bald. imagine being bald

imagine saying bald.

baldbaldbaldbald.

sometimes you can say  words so  many times they lose all meaning.

like I Love You.

I hate you.

life….

BOReD BoReD

I’m so fucking bored.

 

There. That was some improv poetry, but there’s no way of proving that is there? Was it off the cuff poetry? or was it meticulously planned? You shall never know.

the greatest trick the Devil pulled …

….. was this really good one where he made it look like his head fell off… but it didn’t. Was pretty cool though.

 

Yours

 

FuzzyRambler.

 

The Ramblings of a Drunken Fool.

Keep hydrated, that’s the advice when you’re completely rat arsed. (That’s drunk for my international readers; see us in England have an avoidance issue when it comes to our inherent alcoholism, we have to choose words that won’t directly indicate that we have a problem.). I, about a month ago decided that blogging was a ridiculous idea and I would have no more to do with it. Yet, in my lonely, inebriated state I decided that I would talk to the ether, for there is no one else to converse with but the voices in my head, and they tend to be overly negative about everything.
I’m lonely, and I was out drinking to the point of catatonia with a number of other human beings, which would suggest that I was not alone. However, as I type, seeing a duplicate of every word, I realise that you can be lonely in a room full of people, all of whom share your love for the Lord of the Rings Trilogy. As far as loneliness goes, it doesn’t matter how many people you are with and how much you love them, they will never know what goes on that extra inch beneath your skull, and that’s a good thing too, because if they did, they’d probably refuse to go drinking with you again, and they’d send people to your house, armed with sticks, spiky ones, that hurt.
What was I talking about?
What I’m trying to say is, we’ll never understand each other. We might try, which is admirable. To willingly try to understand one another is the most righteous act anyone can undertake, and I admire anyone who tries it, but it is (in my most humble opinion) a futile experiment. For,  with all the linguistic, philosophical (and other intelligent words) understanding a human being can possess, one can never understand what is going on in another human being’s mind.
I think what I’m trying to say in my drunken way, is that we are doomed to not understand one another. And that we are all alone, and will ultimately die alone.
But is that so bad?
Fuck it I don’t know, figure it out for yourself.
Either way, it’s kind of sad that we, as a race that has managed to get to the moon and back, are all over reliant on what people think about us, even those we’ve never met. Our very being seems to be determined on what Frank the taxidermist thinks of our ability to play the piano, or express our feelings; or even write a hit novel. In a way it’s a conundrum. We are lonely because people don’t understand us, but if people did, they’d know everything about us, and subsequently judge us. If people knew us, the true us, we’d be fucked. We’d never make any friends again. I believe there is nothing after death, so if we die alone, does it really matter? It’s not as if we’ll be judged in the after-life on how many friends we had, or how good we did life, like a strange spiritual X-Factor. So we may as well not care, we may as well be the biggest dicks on the entire planet if it pleases us.
Oh… I’ve fallen into that destructive habit of thinking, something you should never attempt when sober, let alone after several glasses of Merlot, several ales and few whiskeys. I don’t know what I’m saying, I’m just rambling before I plunge into the depths of internet pornography, losing that battle against addiction for the ninth time.
I don’t know, I think what I’m trying to say is I love you all. I love you all digital entities which I have never met. I love you all for all your perfect imperfections. I love you all, because of you, I love you all because I will never understand you, and it’s our innate inability to understand one another that makes us so infatuating.
Also I’m going to regret every word of this tomorrow.

Regards.

Some Fucking Twat Who Has Drunk Too Much.