When I reminded myself to stop trying to be something and just be.
'Consciousness is not simply a sensory-perceptual affair, a matter of mental imagery, as the contents of our mind would have us believe. It is deeply enmeshed with the brain mechanisms that automatically promote action readiness' - Jaak Panksepp
Driving home from college Thursday, I found the road home blocked off by a car accident. I took a detour, down the road behind the high school. Got lost and started screaming like I was possessed in the cabin of the car. Eventually I found a road I knew the name of, followed it down to an intersection I recognized. When I got home I felt more energized and alive than I had in weeks.
Today I invited this nerdy chick home with me. A spergie girl, even more so than myself. Drove her here in my car, and we played vidya lethargically while she chatted at her high volume and I stoned myself on coffee.
So at the end of the day I take her to a diner with the rest of my family. She's in my car with me again, the rest of the family takes the SUV. When we're done eating I drive her home again, and we end up talking about how retarded we are, and how we manage to survive college life. I can isolate the cues that tip me off to her disorder easily, but apparently she can't do the same for me, and so I keep needling her about it for a bit.
Then she describes this snobby vegan hipster chick who was in our class. This person said she wanted to punch my friend in the face for being the most "annoying person she ever met," and when I'd been told this I got all self-conscious that this person thought the same thing of me.
But instead, this friend reports that the person thinks I look like a school shooter and that she'd want to befriend me so I would let her live.
When I heard that I looked like a serial killer instead of the autistic faggot I am, I felt better than I had in months. It sounds horrible, but it's a real improvement for me. So I'm smiling, I drop my friend off, and all the way home I'm screaming with delight and singing in catharsis.
I'm an asshole.
This post deserves one of the few Maroon 5 songs I actually like.
The straws at McDonalds are the best. They have sufficient heft so that you can easily stab through the plastic cup cover without bending it unlike the cheap, flimsy and narrow straws you find elsewhere. Every time I use the straw for my McCafe, I'm thankful to be alive.