Get a Life

OR: It's a miracle and no one gives a shit.

As you may have noticed, I've deleted all but about 90 of my blog posts. I guess someone, somewhere, may be upset, but a) I'm sorry and b) sorry, I'm not actually sorry. Those were terrible years for me (every year seems to be a terrible year) and I don't want to be able to relive them in any way, shape or form. So I deleted about 2/3 of them. Consider it a fresh start. There's now a little less of my shittiness available on the internet. (Like, really, what was wrong with me? I was such a frikking weeb, and people will say I can't be a weeb since I'm Asian but I'm not Japanese and you can't just lump all the Asian cultures like that and anyway it was awful and stupid and total weeb behavior. Be glad it's gone.)

In other news, my life has essentially become long stretches of discomfort and boredom punctuated by random, intense, short pangs of anger, hatred, frustration, anxiety and guilt. I'm thinking this is an improvement.

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People like to complain about their lives a lot. I do, and my complaints probably aren't any more noble than the complaints of the next hormonal teenager, but I've been trying to complain about specific circumstances and not just... living. And I think I sort of mean it differently from other people. (ahaha I am a speshul snowflake obv.)

Freshman year, this sophomore girl sat across from me in IPC and she'd tell me every day, "I hate my life." I'd tell her she should be glad she has a life. She'd reply by saying I chose not to have "a life" so I couldn't possibly understand her feelings.

A few days ago, someone complains about how pursuing the IB Diploma requires someone to give up their "life," so I muttered "Who needs one?" and he replied that I chose not to have one, I wouldn't understand.

First off, bullshit. I didn't "choose not to have a life." I'm alive and breathing; I have a life. They, of course, mean a social life. I say, screw social lives and screw all of you I have two or three friends and they are the few people I've met that I don't hate, so I think I'm doin' pretty good.

When I said they should be grateful they have a life, I meant that they should be happy that they're alive and self aware. They are living, breathing organisms that are aware of their surroundings and themselves and they have the capacity to change themselves and change their surroundings and you know most of your environment isn' self aware? 

People are fucking miracles and no one cares. Do you know how much easier it'd be to be a ceiling tile? Your particles are shaped like a ceiling tile, and all you need to worry about is being a frikking ceiling tile. But you can't be anything except a ceiling tile. Don't like being tile, weirdly sentient ceiling tile? Too bad because you are a ceiling tile and that's all you got. 

But people, people can be fucking whatever (though that freedom seem to rapidly declining by the hour in this country) and it's fucking amazing. While it's on a much smaller scale, we're potentially, like, fucking stars breaking down matter and spitting it back out into the universe. We just make our own universes and no one cares. 

And I don't appreciate it enough, either. I'm probably a bit pile of wasted potential, but, hey, in choosing to do X, you're giving up the potential to do Y. But I think a lot of people appreciate it even less than I do, and that's actually pretty frikking scary. I mean, I know that when every fucking thing's a miracle, nothing seems very miraculous anymore, but you have to admit, just the concept's pretty amazing. 

Also, I think that secondary title came from Patton Oswalt when talking about ipods or something, idk. It's totally true, though, concerning almost anything.

(Also I decided to start tagging things. They're probably not gonna be too useful, but I like using tags on tumblr, so I'll use them here.)