A Writing Exercise To See If I Am Truly Insane

(Warning: I kinda threw this in here as is.)

Every Friday night for the last five years or so it’s been the same.  I complete the work I need for the day.  I eat, bathe, decide whether or not I’m going to exercise, then I write if I have a project going.  About 8 o’clock rolls around and I’ve done all the reading and a-writing I’m going to do for the day, specifically because my terribly weak eyeballs give out.  The only options left are to go to sleep, or watch a streaming show on TV or the computer. (I realize going out to socialize is another option, but I’m an old crank and you know what?  I don’t have to explain myself to you.  I’ll get to it when I get to it.)

Then the search begins.  I pull up five, six, seven different streaming services who have bajillions of offerings.  Either I’ve seen what I want, or I don’t give a shit.  Every weekend.  All the time.  My wife finds all kinds of shit to watch from the same platforms.  Me…nothing.  At best, I’ll rewatch a movie I haven’t seen in a long time, and that’s when I force myself to choose. You can blame the unlimited offerings make it tough to choose.  I get it.  But I’m not mired by millions of choices. I don’t want any of it. 

Just pick, my brain might say.  You don’t have to love everything.  Not every choice means something.  You’re allowed to simply pass the time.  Nope.  Doesn’t work.  My record is 55 minutes on a Saturday scrolling for things to watch.  Ended up going to sleep at nine.

What the fuck do I want to do?  Honestly.  I’ve imagined a life with millions of dollars in the bank and free time coming out of my butt, and I don’t have jack shit for ideas.  A trip, I guess?  That seems to be the thing to do.  What do people do on trips?  Who friggin’ knows?  We’ve never really been on one.  You go to a new place and walk around and look at stuff, right? 

The kids are all old and now we have a little time and a little money.  The last time I had free time I think Clinton was in his first year. Of his first term.  I’m sure I wanted to go to a mall and buy a CD or rent a tape Blockbuster.  Nothing in that sentence exists anymore!  Anyone who knows me knows that back then I had no fucking idea either.

I just don’t know what to do with myself. Don't wanna be social, can't take it when they hate me, but I know there's nothing I can do.  Those were lyrics from Jack White songs.  He’s a social misfit, too, but he’s also talented, rich, and keeps himself busy.

About two years ago, I conducted an experiment.  It was quite easy.  I was stressed with adult kids in the house, bills and money bullshit, and all of the things I just described.  Instead of reading or walking to try and chill, I just sat on my couch.  Alone in the house, with no computer, phone, TV, music, books…nothing.  I didn’t sleep, I just sat in silence.  I didn’t meditate either.  I didn’t try to find a center.  I just stopped. 

Holy shit was I good at it.  I did it as often as I could.  I had to be alone (dogs were an exception), but I did it for long stretches, too.

Then it got scary.  It was all I wanted to do.  Be alone. In silence.  Not moving, reading, writing.  Nothing.  Sitting, as an activity.  It got seductive as hell.  I’m sure it was just my body and mind tricking me into meditating, but it didn’t feel that way at the time.  It was also freaky because it was the first new activity I cared about in the last few decades.

I’m gonna be 49 soon and I don’t want to sit alone anymore.  I mean, I do, but I want to find something else.  Having no activities feels so lazy and dumb.  I’m sure its pressure from society or something, but I’m smart enough to know that one aspect of a working mind is curiosity, and I just don’t give a shit about much at all. Not in the traditional foundation of depression way. At least, I don’t think so.  I just don’t care about doing things.  I treat knowledge like a breeze these days, when I sniff something that floats my way, I may chase it.  But I’m not hungry for the story or the experience.  I don’t feel the need for a bucket list or to check off a bunch of boxes and feature them on Instagram.  You don’t care.  I don’t either.

I care about wisdom.  But those spaceships are made with the Legos I’ve collected my entire life.  Most of the sets that are currently available contain pieces I already have.

It’s Sunday, Jim.  You have the day off.  You finished all of your chores, your work is done, it’s 10:30 am.  You have the day, my friend.  You’ve earned it.  What would you like to do?

I have no earthly idea. Are you sure are the chores are done?  Maybe there’s a dish or two in the sink.  Anyone need anything from the store? 

Here’s a few hundred dollars.  Go have a blast.  Where are you going?

Not a clue.

It’s a gorgeous day.  Get out there!  Enjoy it while you can!

And do what, exactly?

I learned about comorbidities.  Or, at least what the term means.  It’s the presence of two or more diseases in one person.  Often, one cause the other.  High blood pressure has a correlation to anxiety and depression, etc.  Those are my biggies. But when I read about the definition, it mentioned the phrase ‘making it difficult for the patient to function in society’.  I got stuck on the term function. I genuinely believe I cannot function in the society we’ve all created and adhere to.  Notice my language, here.  I don’t doubt my ability to function in LIFE.  I just think that my brain is a square peg in the round hole of our culture and society.  Our mores and folkways.  I don’t get the mainstream and I don’t get the alternatives either. 

Misfit.  Misanthrope. Mystery Machine. Missy ‘Misdemeanor’ Elliot.

Forty-nine gosh-darn years.  Still haven’t cracked it.  Not even close. 

You need to loosen up, Jim.

You need to get out of your head.

Have a beer.  Smoke this joint with me. 

Why are you going home so early?

Don’t you understand that ‘I don’t know’ are the three most unattractive words in the English language?

Why do you shut down as soon as strangers show up?  You’re so funny!

Before I was medicated, this was all technically maddening.  Now it’s just annoying as hell. It’s like a shitty neighbor that’s too loud or works on his car at 8:oo am. 

I wish I liked car stuff.

Okay, I can tell when I’ve reached the end.

Maybe I haven’t reached the end of Netflix yet…