Having Been Human
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Fri Jun 1 18:56:43 2012
Altered States of Mind sans drugs

Decided to spend some time in Williamsburgh this evening. Was still feeling grumbly about a few weird arguments I've been having with friendly acquantances, and at the station I was dreaming up a movement to support the incontinent; their response to my offhand comment that Cortelyou Road station smells like piss would be this shocked offense and oh the humanity how dare you marginalise people who have problems not smelling like piss, and then taking it to the extreme of "piss smells nice" and people peeing on themselves in solidarity with the incontinent. I guess I'm conflating several arguments here; there's a predictable one with an ex of mine about my position that obesity is a problem and is nasty but not all there is to a person, and her furious anti-judgementalism that I remember from old times. I never really got to follow that argument through to the end because she has major civility problems and eventually calls people fascist if she can't convince them to her side on whatever she's arguing about; I saw the signs and stopped responding. Of course, sometimes I stop responding in arguments because I'm tired, or something else, but with her it's just the telltale signs that she's too mad to keep from exploding.

On the subway, I just felt exhausted by the constant arguments in my head (with a "purified-of-crazyanger" version of her and other bits of me) and stared out the windows separating the traincars. It was kind of surreal, and I felt really alienated from absolutely everything, also maybe like my sanity was slipping or something. Maybe it's just that my head actually managed to get quiet for the first time in a very long time (except when drunk or about to fall asleep) and it was kind of alarming. Almost like a negation of self; this constant inner war has come to define me as much as the physical and emotional pains and juggling way too many ideas. Maybe I was also afraid that I was just letting that peace descend on me; it felt like embracing death.

Last night, I got a random note from someone on OkCupid who, having read my profile, expressed that I am the biggest douche she'd ever seen, and asked me to let her know if I ever date anyone I meet on OkC because she thinks it'll never happen, and that she'd be praying for me. From someone with a remarkably high match percentage, no less. It felt pretty hurtful, but even there I kept civility. It reminds me a bit of a similar (but much more horrid) message from Leah don't-know-her-last-name from the CMU social crowd; hostile message, confused-and-polite-response, more hostile messages, and so on. Sometimes I think I should figure out how to return anger to people who go out of their way to piss me off specifically; absorbing absolutely everything should be a choice of mine, not a given, especially because it tends to make me depressed for days. Maybe that's the problem; I just don't stay mad for very long at things like that; I either feel broken, or I imagine what might've happened to them that they're lashing out at me (or at least expressing things that are not generally kosher to express).

Fortunately, just an hour afterwards, I had another message on the same service later that evening (from someone in California) and we had a nice exchange about the human condition; very pleasant and fairly rare. It was also strange because I don't think I've ever gotten more than one OkC message in the same day before (usually weeks go by before I get another polite-and-brief "no thanks" to one of my tea requests). That salvaged my mood a bit.

I finally have the stink from the waste-sorting thing entirely gone; somehow some of it got through the gloves and under my nails, and I think some also splattered into my hair; the first few washes were insufficient.

Still bummed about not really having local friends. Not that the day itself means anything to me, but that another birthday will be passing by with no local friends is pretty sucktastic. At least, unless I can make friends over much of June.

But being terrified of closeness and organising my life to be respectable (by people who actually recognise the things that make someone intellectually respectable) rather than likable kind of implies this.

Oh well. Maybe this is how it should be. It keeps me fearless in pursuit of consistent, nuanced positions. Maybe someday I'll meet enough people who are doing the same and would like to compare notes and weave lives closer together for awhile.