half a person

Could you be a multitude of different people? I mean seriously, and not consciously.  I had nothing specific to do all day except go to the supermarket (alone may I add, now I am no longer at school the majority of my time is spent alone) which involved a hot, sweaty walk downtown in the sun and a nervy wait to pay for my stuff at the tills, as I always get really uncomfortable around lots of people, especially when things are demanded of me.

    The lady at the till looked at me like I was either mentally deficient or just plain pathetic when the benign old gentleman in front of me asked for me to go ahead of him in the queue.  But it was because I didn't know what to do, you see, and only for a second.  One single second.  This is the reason why I'm not some social aficionado-type person; I get too embarrassed when I have to do silly, everyday things like paying for stuff and going to town.  It makes my throat feel like it is composed of lumps of awkwardness and the voices in my head scream about how I want to dissolve into the floor somehow, and cease to exist.  

 

    Anywho, I came home from the morbidly embarrassing supermarket, had lunch and watched Fight Club.  I laughed inwardly when I first saw it because the narrator seems like such an unlikely,  'desk job' type guy to start a  satirical and primal organization as Fight Club, but the Tyler Durden character of course draws him, as well as the audience into believing in it, obscuring the twist ending.  Admittedly, I found it quite strange, but it has a lot to say- mainly to men of the late 20th century- about their values and perceptions of themselves and their lives (they must strive to look like CK models, they purchase furniture and objects they have no need of and are told they have the potential to be musicians and astronauts, when this is always a lie), something I suppose is true to each and every one of us in one form or another in this modern age. 

    I feel dull and laborious.  I feel bored and malnourished by the monotony of life and it's expectations, which seem to impossible to attain anyway, and the lack of accomplishment I know I will feel at the end of the day when my youth is spent and my possibilities expended, and there is nothing but my dissatisfaction and regret remaining (a lover if I am lucky).  How do I know I will not accomplish my goals? They are too vague, too difficult to succeed at nowadays.  So what is the use in even trying? I may as well live for the small, enjoyable things in life.  An artwork to be proud of.  A smile from a kind boy, the new perspectives to be gained from reading a new book, watching an unseen film.  And of course, behind all beauty and optimism, the prospect of an Arcadia, and sailing on the Good Ship Albion there.  (shoot me if you will for the dubious amount of cheese in this final excruciating sentence and the ridiculous length of this blog)

  I learnt about D.I.D today, Dissociative Identity Disorder, which is quite fascinating.  Most of my discovery I did on wikipedia though, so I don't know how viable the information is, but oh well.  I previewed a book on Amazon which I found intriguing and now want to purchase- "The Handbook for Dissociation: A Clinical Guide" by Marlene Steinberg

And I am going to bed now.