That's what started this, 50 simple pleasures, and I'll get to that in a sec.
Hi, my name is... Bob. For now. I am 47 years old, I am a grunt, I am a liar, and a thief, and who knows, maybe a god damn accidental murderer somewhere along the way. I am old, and getting older. I make a shit ton of mistakes, this god damn thing being one of them, every hour of every day. But, god damn it, maybe, just fucking maybe, it helps someone who may stumble over it. This blog, I mean. Sorry, lose track when I type sometimes.
My fucking life right now is a god damn shambles. I mean like a shit fire shambles. I am old, I hate my fucking job almost as much as I hate the shit buckets I work with, I am lost in life, have no idea how the fuck I got here. Well, that's not true, I would imagine 40 years of shit decisions may have had something to do with it. Among other things.
Side note: I sometimes consider myself a writer. In those times I make an effort to hone the things I type into coherent, consumable ideas. I am not currently interested in being a fucking writer. That dude can fuck right off.
Anyway, a shambles. My marriage might as well be over, and for that I take 100% of the blame, my relationship with my kid is embarrassing to me it is so bad, I can grab huge handfuls of skin at my gut and have to giant flesh slugs wrapping around my lower back. I am weak, my joints hurt. I have growths on my skin that I am TERRIFIED are skin cancer. But who cant afford to go to the doc because of his own stupid mistakes? Uh, that would be me. My vision is done, my future is sealed, I have more debt than I know what to do with,. drowning in it. Shit credit. Let's see... have I left anything out? Oh, duh. Unmotivated, lazy, no education worth a fuck, unskilled in any way that matters, mad at the fucking world all the god damn time because, you know, white guy in the US, so you can imagine how bad I really have it. Depressed, suicidal, two things I do not say lightly, on the very tippy toe edge of doing something monumentally stupid.... and if you knew some of the things I had done in the past, well, monumental would have a whole new meaning for you.
So, what am I going to do?
Same fucking useless thing I always do, try and start again.
I do this a lot. Well, it feels to me like I do this a lot. Get fed up with myself and my life. Decide I've had enough. Read some primo Tony Robbins shit (nothing against the guy. seems like a solid dude) and get all fired up about the all new fucking me! Fuck yeah you will!
This time seems a little different though. Because of 50 things.
So, preface. Sort of. A couple of weeks ago I got the itch. Not as close to rock bottom as I have been, but close enough for me to go looking. Thank the gods for Google, right?
Side note: right now I should be cleaning the house. My wife will come apart at the seams if she comes home and the house hasn't been cleaned. But, I digress.
Anyway....
Oh, also, you have never met a bigger narcissist than me. Never. At least not one outside of a prison.
Again, anyway... god damn it. What the fuck was I saying??
Okay, yes, I Google why I am a fuck up. Okay, so, spent some time doing that and...
... too much backstory was lining up to come out just then. I will save the details for later. Still have a house to clean. Suffice it to say that I ended up at a site called Feel Happiness. So, I have primed myself with some things at this point, some "you can do it", "change your life", "the universe wants you to succeed" horse shit, so, I am receptive to what I am reading. And, some of it is making sense.
Now, bear in mind, when I say making sense, I am talking about making sense to an almost 50 year old uneducated blue collar guy. Bigfoot makes sense to me.
Continuing- So, I spend a little time on this, and a couple other sites I am paying attention to, and I stumble across this. Now,"this" is an article called "30 Days to Happiness." Well, fuck you right in the ass. That, my friends, that "fuck you right in the ass" might be a better fucking title than the click bait piece of shit title it, that article, is stuck with. I, being a moron, read it anyway.
And, something clicked.
No clue what it fucking was. I think it was a combination of some words and tones in a couple of this guy's other articles, and some of what I read here... or, there. You know what the fuck I am talking about. Anyway, so I read and, again, fueled by some other Google moments that I will get into later, I thought "ya know what? Fuck it. What the fuck is it going to hurt me to just fucking try this shit?" So, try I did. I started out with Day 1. As you do.
Now, the meat of Day 1 is to write down... wait for it...
50 Simple Pleasures.
50 little day to day, ordinary things that make you happy. That's all they are asking. Now, I look at this and I think, man, fucking 50 things. That is a lot of writing. But, I am committed, so, I write. And I get to, like, 9. And I sit there. And I sit there.
And I sit there.
In the end it takes me more than 2 hours to make a list of of 50 things I like. What the fuck. (And, yeah, I know I left off the question mark. Eat a dick.) 2 hours? To come up with 50 things that I like? What the fuck? How is that even possible? When I got to 9 and I realized I could not readily come up with 10 things that I like... 10 things... that I like... what the fuck does that even mean? I am still rolling it over in my head. How fucking disconnected from your self (intentional. suck it) do you have to be to not even be able to think of things you like in life?? 9. 9 things. Less than the number of fingers I have on 2 hands. Who the fuck am I?? 20 years ago I'd have rattled off 200 things before you had to put a boot in my mouth to get me to shut up. Now, I cant think of 10. Jesus.
Side note: Also had trouble coming up with things to be thankful for.
So, eventually I get to 50, but that first 9 is still weighing on me. And the fact that it took 2 hours to think of 50 Simple Pleasures in my life. All I can say is what the fuck. I got nothing else. I just don't even understand how a person forgets what they like. At least a person who hasn't suffered traumatic brain injury.
And this is where I am. Here is the part where I start a journey, sort of for real. I am going to try and remake myself, to pull myself out of this hole I have dug for myself. And, assuming I dont bail on the whole fucking thing, as is my want, I am going to... a word that means write the whole fucking thing down, Jesus I am old. Anyway, here. I am going to write it here, in this forum, the peoples court. God I hated that show. Maybe, along with feeding my narcissism, maybe it helps somebody.
I kinda hope so.
PS: It is not a fucking midlife crisis. Not unless my midlife started in my 20's. Fuck right off.
Hi, my name is... Bob. For now. I am 47 years old, I am a grunt, I am a liar, and a thief, and who knows, maybe a god damn accidental murderer somewhere along the way. I am old, and getting older. I make a shit ton of mistakes, this god damn thing being one of them, every hour of every day. But, god damn it, maybe, just fucking maybe, it helps someone who may stumble over it. This blog, I mean. Sorry, lose track when I type sometimes.
My fucking life right now is a god damn shambles. I mean like a shit fire shambles. I am old, I hate my fucking job almost as much as I hate the shit buckets I work with, I am lost in life, have no idea how the fuck I got here. Well, that's not true, I would imagine 40 years of shit decisions may have had something to do with it. Among other things.
Side note: I sometimes consider myself a writer. In those times I make an effort to hone the things I type into coherent, consumable ideas. I am not currently interested in being a fucking writer. That dude can fuck right off.
Anyway, a shambles. My marriage might as well be over, and for that I take 100% of the blame, my relationship with my kid is embarrassing to me it is so bad, I can grab huge handfuls of skin at my gut and have to giant flesh slugs wrapping around my lower back. I am weak, my joints hurt. I have growths on my skin that I am TERRIFIED are skin cancer. But who cant afford to go to the doc because of his own stupid mistakes? Uh, that would be me. My vision is done, my future is sealed, I have more debt than I know what to do with,. drowning in it. Shit credit. Let's see... have I left anything out? Oh, duh. Unmotivated, lazy, no education worth a fuck, unskilled in any way that matters, mad at the fucking world all the god damn time because, you know, white guy in the US, so you can imagine how bad I really have it. Depressed, suicidal, two things I do not say lightly, on the very tippy toe edge of doing something monumentally stupid.... and if you knew some of the things I had done in the past, well, monumental would have a whole new meaning for you.
So, what am I going to do?
Same fucking useless thing I always do, try and start again.
I do this a lot. Well, it feels to me like I do this a lot. Get fed up with myself and my life. Decide I've had enough. Read some primo Tony Robbins shit (nothing against the guy. seems like a solid dude) and get all fired up about the all new fucking me! Fuck yeah you will!
This time seems a little different though. Because of 50 things.
So, preface. Sort of. A couple of weeks ago I got the itch. Not as close to rock bottom as I have been, but close enough for me to go looking. Thank the gods for Google, right?
Side note: right now I should be cleaning the house. My wife will come apart at the seams if she comes home and the house hasn't been cleaned. But, I digress.
Anyway....
Oh, also, you have never met a bigger narcissist than me. Never. At least not one outside of a prison.
Again, anyway... god damn it. What the fuck was I saying??
Okay, yes, I Google why I am a fuck up. Okay, so, spent some time doing that and...
... too much backstory was lining up to come out just then. I will save the details for later. Still have a house to clean. Suffice it to say that I ended up at a site called Feel Happiness. So, I have primed myself with some things at this point, some "you can do it", "change your life", "the universe wants you to succeed" horse shit, so, I am receptive to what I am reading. And, some of it is making sense.
Now, bear in mind, when I say making sense, I am talking about making sense to an almost 50 year old uneducated blue collar guy. Bigfoot makes sense to me.
Continuing- So, I spend a little time on this, and a couple other sites I am paying attention to, and I stumble across this. Now,"this" is an article called "30 Days to Happiness." Well, fuck you right in the ass. That, my friends, that "fuck you right in the ass" might be a better fucking title than the click bait piece of shit title it, that article, is stuck with. I, being a moron, read it anyway.
And, something clicked.
No clue what it fucking was. I think it was a combination of some words and tones in a couple of this guy's other articles, and some of what I read here... or, there. You know what the fuck I am talking about. Anyway, so I read and, again, fueled by some other Google moments that I will get into later, I thought "ya know what? Fuck it. What the fuck is it going to hurt me to just fucking try this shit?" So, try I did. I started out with Day 1. As you do.
Now, the meat of Day 1 is to write down... wait for it...
50 Simple Pleasures.
50 little day to day, ordinary things that make you happy. That's all they are asking. Now, I look at this and I think, man, fucking 50 things. That is a lot of writing. But, I am committed, so, I write. And I get to, like, 9. And I sit there. And I sit there.
And I sit there.
In the end it takes me more than 2 hours to make a list of of 50 things I like. What the fuck. (And, yeah, I know I left off the question mark. Eat a dick.) 2 hours? To come up with 50 things that I like? What the fuck? How is that even possible? When I got to 9 and I realized I could not readily come up with 10 things that I like... 10 things... that I like... what the fuck does that even mean? I am still rolling it over in my head. How fucking disconnected from your self (intentional. suck it) do you have to be to not even be able to think of things you like in life?? 9. 9 things. Less than the number of fingers I have on 2 hands. Who the fuck am I?? 20 years ago I'd have rattled off 200 things before you had to put a boot in my mouth to get me to shut up. Now, I cant think of 10. Jesus.
Side note: Also had trouble coming up with things to be thankful for.
So, eventually I get to 50, but that first 9 is still weighing on me. And the fact that it took 2 hours to think of 50 Simple Pleasures in my life. All I can say is what the fuck. I got nothing else. I just don't even understand how a person forgets what they like. At least a person who hasn't suffered traumatic brain injury.
And this is where I am. Here is the part where I start a journey, sort of for real. I am going to try and remake myself, to pull myself out of this hole I have dug for myself. And, assuming I dont bail on the whole fucking thing, as is my want, I am going to... a word that means write the whole fucking thing down, Jesus I am old. Anyway, here. I am going to write it here, in this forum, the peoples court. God I hated that show. Maybe, along with feeding my narcissism, maybe it helps somebody.
I kinda hope so.
PS: It is not a fucking midlife crisis. Not unless my midlife started in my 20's. Fuck right off.
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