This could have been the best decision of my life

Lately my writing time has been soaked up by a lot of other shi stuff in my life.  It’s not the best excuse but it’s the one I’m using.  I really wish I had more time to write because it’s the one thing that prevents me from kicking random strangers and/or colleagues. The other thing is coffee.  Lots and lots of coffee.  I’ve had more than one anxiety attack lately because my life has been hectic.  Just last week I was googling my symptoms on WebMD and I was either having a mini-stroke or just very hungry.

I have two kids.  *The crowd goes silence in suspense*  These kids are getting older by the minute.  *The audience gasps at another shocking revelation*.   They will be leaving the house soon. *Audience members are leaving as the suspense is becoming too much to bear* Continue reading

Flipping the bird on a bad day

My sign was up for a while.

My sign was up for a while.

Have you ever had the misfortune of waking up in the morning, knowing that the day is going to suck? Understanding that the sun who succesfully chased away the chill of the night couldn’t manage the same feat in your soul.  Within minutes of opening your eyes you have a premonition that you might be killing someone, or at least have a story to tell by the time the moon will show its face again.

It doesn’t even take a specific incident to jolt the dark feelings stirring in your heart.  Or a serious mental condition like depression, bipolarity or too much oestrogen.   It’s just an average Joe waking up, wishing that he could pull the duvet over his head and go back to sleep until the next morning, like a scene from Groundhog Day.

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I DON’T have to. (or Do I?)

Do you know what happened to the last guy who pointed a finger at me?

Do you know what happened to the last guy who pointed a finger at me?

You have to.

No I don’t, asshole…

It is difficult to make you understand how much I despise those three words when used in unison.  It’s an automatic detonator that sets off 260 tons of TNT in my subconscious and obliterate all restraint, kindness and generosity I might have at that moment, forcing me to react with the debris of disgust and stubbornness.

I’m a free man.  I was born a free man.  My constitution gives me the surety that it’s a right of mine.  I make my own pay, and even pay for my own way.  I am a grown adult of forty.  SO I DON’T HAVE TO DO SHIT.  (Ok, maybe that is the one thing I have to do.)

Freedom is just another one of those privileges humans take for granted daily.  Like being able to love, or being able to communicate, just another perk of being alive.  We see it as an obvious state, like nature intended it to be, like blood flowing from a wound. But what if you receive that unfortunate injury and no blood flows from the gaping wound?  Wouldn’t that be a real mindf*ck?

It’s the same with freedom.  It will only be appreciated once it’s taken away.

I recently visited Saudi Arabia on a business trip, which does seem like stating the obvious, for who would go there for a holiday?  I have also been to prison, and no, don’t overreact, I visited someone.  In jail.  Point is, (when you eventually recover from that last comment and focus again) once you observe a country or place where laws govern what people can and can not do in everyday life, i.e. the small, simple, mindless things, then only do you understand the true meaning of freedom.  Arbitrary things like what they should wear, what they can eat, when they can be outside, when they can receive visitors.  When these “choices” are taken away then only do we get to fully appreciate the concept of freedom.  A state of being able to have a choice.

But do we really?  Do we really have a choice?

I mentioned already that I only have to do that one thing.  But then I have to eat.  I have to sleep.  I have to love my wife. (Yes, I know I want to, but bare with me), I have to take care of my children, I have to provide for my family.  So I have to have money.  I have to find a job.  I have to get an education.  Once I find a job, I have to keep it, implying I have to be on time every day.  I have to work.  I have to provide my kids with an education, so I have to take my kids to school.  I have to make sure they grow up to be half decent adults.  I have to provide them with some shelter against the elements, so I have to pay my mortgage.

I want to be on earth for a while, so I have to take care of my body.  I have to adhere to traffic signs and other warnings threatening my life.  I have to do so many things,  I’m starting to wonder whether we are truly free, as per definition of the word.  Maybe we’ve just succumbed to another form of slavery, this time self-inflicted.

Maybe my volatile reaction to an arbitrary, innocent comment of “You have to” is merely an adult tantrum, an act of silent rebellion against the “perceived” freedom modern man actually don’t have.  Maybe I think to much…

Oh well, at least I can wear anything I want, as long as the wife approves…