pensamientos

They comes in waves.  Like a sudden gentle rainfall while floating in the ocean.  The cool drops hitting your chest while the warm water beneath cradles you like a loving mother gently rocking you to a peaceful slumber.  My hair floats around me and while my head's beneath the water I can hear a muffled voice say a single syllable breaking the absolute silence.  My eyes open and I see her floating next to me.  She's smiling.  I am too.

Staring up at the sky, stars as far as the eye can see.  The profound silence around us save for the water lightly stroking the shore.  Nothing to do but think and feel and exist as a cosmic anomaly defying every bit of rationality this world instills in us.  

"Quiero hotcakes."

"Me too."

dream

I was a dishwasher for some reason.  Not even for a restaurant.. just washing dishes in a room somewhere.  I walked away for a second and when I came back there was a Christmas tree sitting in the sink.  Whatta heck? So I mean I washed it.. because that was my job.  But then someone brought me a big ass lumpy pillow and THAT was the final straw.  I said, "Yo, this thing is disgusting." to the morbidly obese person behind me on the bed. "Just buy a new one dude this thing is gross." She said, "Yeah you're right I hear face oils get in the pillow and make it really gross.  I'll have to buy a new one the next time I'm feeling sad."

A cat somehow was injured near me.  I wasn't sure what to do and neither did the others around me.  So I said aloud, "We should get some aspirin for this cat.. but I don't know what the dosage is for a cat." So I began googling in my dream on a laptop(? I don't remember how I viewed the search results.. but I don't recall it being on a small screen.. so I assume it was a laptop) but couldn't find any results.  Nobody knew how much to give a cat.  So I got a bottle from a cupboard and they were little circles with the crease down the middle to chop them in half.  "Just cut it in half and give the cat a half." I said.  Everyone was yelling at me saying "NO THAT'S WAY TOO MUCH YOU IDIOT THAT WILL KILL THE CAT" so I said well how .. big is the pill (I couldn't remember milligrams).  They said it's 55 WW (which is apparently a measurement for pill size).  Continued googling and couldn't find anything.  In that time the aspirins changed.  They became much larger.  Like a brick.  With 2 creases in the pill to chop so you could break the pill into thirds.

Then I woke up.

stream

It's a new day.

I've woken up.

I've drank my coffee.

I've eaten my

• Breakfast Sandwich
• Turkey Sausage
• Egg white veggie omlette
• Bagel

made from the continental breakfast items in the hotel lobby.

I've driven to the plant.

I've made some changes to the software.  The constants for security unlock changed.

I've waited for the truck to enter rolls.

It's nearly out of diesel.

They'll need to fill it up.

I'll work on some other stuff I guess.

I've gotten a little anxious.  There are several people here waiting.

They've not been unpleasant.

WHY THE FUCK AM I HERE?

It's getting close to ten.

Only two hours til lunch.

I think I'll get the cold cut combo from Subway like usual.

I like to get it with the jalapenos on it.

The girl at the counter gives me extra if I ask.

I've been invited to a conference call regarding a big change at Toledo.

I'm important.
I'm important.
I'm very important.
I'm very important.

"I know you're busy but.."
"I know it's been crazy but.."
"I know you haven't been home in a while but.."
"I know things are not going great for you right now but.."

I should take a vacation.

I should go see the girl that I love.

I should leave.

order?

I guess sometimes I just need to get thoughts from grey matter to paper.. or computer screen in this case.  From synapse to transistor.  I can't remember anything so I guess writing it down will help me organize things and hopefully get a better handle on my life and well-being.

It's about 2 in the morning right now and I should be asleep.  I've got to meet some people from Cummins Diesel tomorrow morning to work on the Heavy Duty RAM truuuuck that's currently sitting on Rolls #6 at SHAP.  I should give a fuck about this because I'm paid to do so.  That's what it's all about, at the end of the day.  It's all about the pay. Getting fuckin' PAID bro. It's all about the pay to get the stuff.  Get the nice food from that restaurant down the street.  Make sure you have a roof over your head.  Make sure it's a nicer roof than that other guy's roof.. Make sure you're comfortable.  Make sure those depending upon you are comfortable.  Make sure you're prepared for the future.  Gotta have at least six months saved up.  At least that's what my friends say. What if you lose your job? What if you should die?  Well, you can't spend all your time thinking about that harsh inevitability or else you're liable to just go crazy and buy a bullet and rent a gun to nip that prolonged suffering in the metaphorical bud.. but that's probably a little dramatic.

Fuck off with the pay complaints.  Everybody knows having to work for pay sucks but everybody still does it because that's just the way it is so you might as well accept it.

Who am I arguing with?

You're struggling with your own [ super different and unique ] sense of self (ego). You're struggling with the idea of being egoistic and selfish.  You're struggling because you hate the idea of considering yourself important because you don't think you are? No that's not right.  You think you're very important and you hate that about yourself because you don't think other people should think they're important.  That's it. Basically you want to hold onto the idea of nihilism because it's o h  s o  c o o l  but you can't do it in a healthy way.  Because even though you've told yourself for so long that nihilism is comforting, that believing "nothing is inherently valuable" or that "nothing really matters (to meeee) so why care about anything?" are the right ways of thinking, you've blocked yourself from experiencing the true beauty of life.

What's so fucking beautiful about it?

I was born.  My dad fucked my mom and out I popped.  Was I an accident?  Dad says no, but why would you tell the truth if the opposite is true.  So that's moot.  I mean I guess I'm definitely fortunate.  I was the sperm that made it.  I was the one that got turned into a lump of stuff that eventually became a baby.  Is that beautiful? I was born in the USA as a healthy white male with (relatively little) mental illness (undiagnosed lol shut the fuck up dude).  Is that beautiful? I've spent the last 20 years or so of my life being obsessed with music and trying so hard to improve myself in that respect. Is that beautiful?  One could say it was a waste of time and effort. Is the music I create at least beautiful?  Eh.

I'm lucky yeah. I'm a statistical anomaly, yes. Beautiful? Maybe.

I guess I just don't know what beauty is.

Why are you so obsessed with beauty?

Maybe that's actually the point of life you're struggling to define?  Trying to create beauty in an already beautiful world. I guess beauty is order in chaos right?  That's what humans like.  Order.  We love our little boxes.  We like our predefined drink menu choices at the Jamba Juice.  We get uncomfortable at the thought of too many choices.. I mean look at Netflix.  I can browse and browse and finish eating before I settle on something to watch. It's chaos.  Now genres.. that's a little better.  A little more order.  A little less chaos. Suggested videos? Even better.  Much less chaos.  The old illusion of choice.... what was I talking about again?

Whatever.

I got the idea to start writing this while sitting alone in the dark at a Holiday Inn Express on 15 Mile in Detroit.  I've been home a few days in the past couple months. I'm getting really tired of this job. I had a bunch of words floating around in my head like "bullshit", "hate", "not worth it", "assholes".  Lots of bad stuff.  Lots of anger.  I'm hoping for this writing experience to be more than just venting frustrations onto a blank canvas and so far it has been. But what am I expecting to get out of it?

Oh yeah.  Thoughts onto paper.  Great.  Now I've got a bunch of random thoughts on paper.  Should I organize it now?