Of course I can't help asking myself "what's the point?" A lot of times I have to remind myself to live life for myself. Do it for you. Sure it would be nice to justify your existence on the basis that someone else needs you, like a kid, or dying family member, or very close friend, or lover, but they'll move on or move away (or die) or meet someone even nearer and dearer and that's okay. Do it for you.
Sure, sometimes it's difficult to love yourself. Sometimes it is even more difficult to care about yourself because it feels selfish. No one is going to do it for you. When we look in the mirror and laugh with ourselves at how strange we are and ask who would want to live with that, the answer is right there: we would! Do it for you. It doesn't mean you don't care about anyone else, or couldn't give a damn if society and civilization as we knew it fell apart. It doesn't mean that we don't empathize and sympathize with oppressed peoples and sufferers of injustices and the caged subsets of this country and all the messed up things happening to them. It doesn't mean we are wholly callous and willing to say "screw them, I got mine, I'm fine." Mind that you can't build your life around someone else's fight. You'll wear down faster than a clutch plate made of wax and find yourself torn apart at your seams every single day. Give a damn, but give a damn about yourself too.
Lying on the ground, having spent the last of my saved money on a replacement leaf spring hanger for the one that rotted out on my truck (that I will have to saw off since it's riveted to the frame and I can't afford to pay a mechanic regardless), staring up at my ceiling fan I was thinking "what's the point of saving money if it vanishes every few months whenever something bad happens." The next day, I opened my fists, put my hands behind my head, watching the fan blades go, and it occurred to me that there has been an improvement through the years. It used to be living paycheck to paycheck and unable to afford food. Just beans and rice and beans and rice and beans and hotdogs and beans and chicken and rice and hotdogs and PB and J. Then it was living paycheck to paycheck, but able to afford better food. Then it was living paycheck to paycheck, and not having to worry about food. Then it was living paycheck to paycheck, not having to worry about food, and being able to afford auto insurance. Then paycheck to paycheck, no food worries, auto insurance, and able to save a little. Now it's crisis to crisis, no food worries, and auto insurance. Sure, it's better than paycheck to paycheck and not as good as being able to save for the future in a meaningful way, but life is decent between crisis level events (like having to empty your savings account to pay for bandages or truck parts and specialized tools or new sneakers because the soles fell off your old ones or a car battery). Small victories, ya know?
It kind of goes back to my ethos behind writing once I realized the industry is basically geared to be self congratulatory in some kind of messed up ways that make any sort of climb outside the construct largely an exercise in blind luck and volume: just do it for you. What's the point if no one will ever read it, if no one likes it, if it's never impactful, recognized, or coherent. Do it for you, care about its pursuit because you do. That's all you really need.
Of course, I'll forget this answer in time. Toss and turn about the meaning of love, and lost relationships doomed to fail anyway. I'll slip into self loathing. The little voices that are easy to ignore when life is fun and in balance will turn into roars and screams and shouts and flying sparks "kill yourself! kill yourself! kill yourself!" and I'll drown them out with music until I can't play music loud enough and I walk out into the woods and scream at the trees "what is the point! I can't succeed at anything long enough to make anyone's lives better or build a family of my own!" Then I'll remember, living for other people is not what we're built for. We are built to be alone, to live alone, to love alone, to ride alone. Can we live with others? Sure. We won't succeed for long, but it's possible, we've seen it, but never expect much from that thread of being. It hasn't, and may never develop within you.
Do it for you. Part of me still remembers my cartographer's mandate. Do it for you and because someone else may be seeing and going through the years you've seen for the first time and may be just as bewildered as you were. "If only there were some sort of mapular object to help me know what may be coming next." Most of all, the point is, don't waste your time trying to measure yourself on other people's scales at every turn. A successful day for some is a nice date, or driving a few hours to see a buddy, or dinner with their spouse, or closing a deal, or a raise, or whatever makes their white picket lawn and dog. For now, for you, it's taking care of your job, exploring some ideas, taking care of you, having a few laughs, and not killing yourself and that is just fine. Don't forget that. Do it for you.
///Phonat - "Ghetto Burnin (Mmmathias Mix)
Sure, sometimes it's difficult to love yourself. Sometimes it is even more difficult to care about yourself because it feels selfish. No one is going to do it for you. When we look in the mirror and laugh with ourselves at how strange we are and ask who would want to live with that, the answer is right there: we would! Do it for you. It doesn't mean you don't care about anyone else, or couldn't give a damn if society and civilization as we knew it fell apart. It doesn't mean that we don't empathize and sympathize with oppressed peoples and sufferers of injustices and the caged subsets of this country and all the messed up things happening to them. It doesn't mean we are wholly callous and willing to say "screw them, I got mine, I'm fine." Mind that you can't build your life around someone else's fight. You'll wear down faster than a clutch plate made of wax and find yourself torn apart at your seams every single day. Give a damn, but give a damn about yourself too.
Lying on the ground, having spent the last of my saved money on a replacement leaf spring hanger for the one that rotted out on my truck (that I will have to saw off since it's riveted to the frame and I can't afford to pay a mechanic regardless), staring up at my ceiling fan I was thinking "what's the point of saving money if it vanishes every few months whenever something bad happens." The next day, I opened my fists, put my hands behind my head, watching the fan blades go, and it occurred to me that there has been an improvement through the years. It used to be living paycheck to paycheck and unable to afford food. Just beans and rice and beans and rice and beans and hotdogs and beans and chicken and rice and hotdogs and PB and J. Then it was living paycheck to paycheck, but able to afford better food. Then it was living paycheck to paycheck, and not having to worry about food. Then it was living paycheck to paycheck, not having to worry about food, and being able to afford auto insurance. Then paycheck to paycheck, no food worries, auto insurance, and able to save a little. Now it's crisis to crisis, no food worries, and auto insurance. Sure, it's better than paycheck to paycheck and not as good as being able to save for the future in a meaningful way, but life is decent between crisis level events (like having to empty your savings account to pay for bandages or truck parts and specialized tools or new sneakers because the soles fell off your old ones or a car battery). Small victories, ya know?
It kind of goes back to my ethos behind writing once I realized the industry is basically geared to be self congratulatory in some kind of messed up ways that make any sort of climb outside the construct largely an exercise in blind luck and volume: just do it for you. What's the point if no one will ever read it, if no one likes it, if it's never impactful, recognized, or coherent. Do it for you, care about its pursuit because you do. That's all you really need.
Of course, I'll forget this answer in time. Toss and turn about the meaning of love, and lost relationships doomed to fail anyway. I'll slip into self loathing. The little voices that are easy to ignore when life is fun and in balance will turn into roars and screams and shouts and flying sparks "kill yourself! kill yourself! kill yourself!" and I'll drown them out with music until I can't play music loud enough and I walk out into the woods and scream at the trees "what is the point! I can't succeed at anything long enough to make anyone's lives better or build a family of my own!" Then I'll remember, living for other people is not what we're built for. We are built to be alone, to live alone, to love alone, to ride alone. Can we live with others? Sure. We won't succeed for long, but it's possible, we've seen it, but never expect much from that thread of being. It hasn't, and may never develop within you.
Do it for you. Part of me still remembers my cartographer's mandate. Do it for you and because someone else may be seeing and going through the years you've seen for the first time and may be just as bewildered as you were. "If only there were some sort of mapular object to help me know what may be coming next." Most of all, the point is, don't waste your time trying to measure yourself on other people's scales at every turn. A successful day for some is a nice date, or driving a few hours to see a buddy, or dinner with their spouse, or closing a deal, or a raise, or whatever makes their white picket lawn and dog. For now, for you, it's taking care of your job, exploring some ideas, taking care of you, having a few laughs, and not killing yourself and that is just fine. Don't forget that. Do it for you.
///Phonat - "Ghetto Burnin (Mmmathias Mix)
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