I Joke
sometimes about being depressed, but there's nothing trivial about it every single time, no matter that it happens on a weekly basis. It literally means lying prostrate in bed, your heart so stiff with pain that you can't move, turning over one gloomy thought after another in your head until you fix upon one that's sad enough relieve you with tears. And so you're there frozen and crying, and the whole day could pass you by like that if you had your druthers.
Tonight, for once this thought was not Asshole #1, but Asshole #2. Not because I loved him (I most certainly did not), but because I was so horrified by what his soullessness had done to me. He was the darkest incarnation of emptiness I've ever met face-to-face; of course I never met Hitler. He took away my innocence, and my faith in cosmic justice. I remember at the time I called my mom, hyterical with sobs, and she said that though she wished that I didn't have to get so hurt, she was glad that I learned that I couldn't trust people, and maybe now I won't be so naive and vulnerable.
It occurred to me tonight that I am not glad I learned this lesson. The day I stopped believing that all (normal) people shared some common goodness was the day that something important died in me. Unconsciously, I think I've been waiting these last few months for karma to come back and vindicate me, to prove to me that my trauma was not in vain but a necessary step for meriting a greater reward. I'm beginning to suspect that this is a fantasy. And so Asshole #2 crushed one part of me that I loved best, leaving just nihilism in that void. And I've become a colder person for that.
In I Heart Huckabees, one of the existential exercises that Bernie prescribes is to imagine talking to someone you respect, sitting in a tree. Dawn had the Dixie Chicks in her tree, Albert had a childhod English teacher. My tree is definitely occupied by Andrew WK. In my meditation, Andrew WK told me that pain is an essential part of being human; that it makes me feel alive, because I can't appreciate the highs without experiencing the lows; that if I can will myself to overcome this, I will have accomplished something. I was reading Aeschylus today - "pathei mathos" (from suffering comes wisdom; the gods teach us wisdom even though we may be unwilling) - so perhaps Andrew WK was ripping off on that.
But then Andrew WK said something interesting. He told me not to lose faith in people, and to think of all the people I knew who WEREN'T soulless, who were good and honest and kind. I thought of all my favorite loved ones, of course. But the humdinger is that when I asked myself who was TRULY KIND and truly unselfish, only two people came to mind. One of them is my long-time mentor Marcus F. The other is a guy named Joey L.
Two is not great, but I guess it's not bad either. After all, I've only met one person who is truly evil. So if the ratio of good people to evil people is 2:1...well, that's not half bad.
(Thanks, Andrew WK! I feel better now.)
Tonight, for once this thought was not Asshole #1, but Asshole #2. Not because I loved him (I most certainly did not), but because I was so horrified by what his soullessness had done to me. He was the darkest incarnation of emptiness I've ever met face-to-face; of course I never met Hitler. He took away my innocence, and my faith in cosmic justice. I remember at the time I called my mom, hyterical with sobs, and she said that though she wished that I didn't have to get so hurt, she was glad that I learned that I couldn't trust people, and maybe now I won't be so naive and vulnerable.
It occurred to me tonight that I am not glad I learned this lesson. The day I stopped believing that all (normal) people shared some common goodness was the day that something important died in me. Unconsciously, I think I've been waiting these last few months for karma to come back and vindicate me, to prove to me that my trauma was not in vain but a necessary step for meriting a greater reward. I'm beginning to suspect that this is a fantasy. And so Asshole #2 crushed one part of me that I loved best, leaving just nihilism in that void. And I've become a colder person for that.
In I Heart Huckabees, one of the existential exercises that Bernie prescribes is to imagine talking to someone you respect, sitting in a tree. Dawn had the Dixie Chicks in her tree, Albert had a childhod English teacher. My tree is definitely occupied by Andrew WK. In my meditation, Andrew WK told me that pain is an essential part of being human; that it makes me feel alive, because I can't appreciate the highs without experiencing the lows; that if I can will myself to overcome this, I will have accomplished something. I was reading Aeschylus today - "pathei mathos" (from suffering comes wisdom; the gods teach us wisdom even though we may be unwilling) - so perhaps Andrew WK was ripping off on that.
But then Andrew WK said something interesting. He told me not to lose faith in people, and to think of all the people I knew who WEREN'T soulless, who were good and honest and kind. I thought of all my favorite loved ones, of course. But the humdinger is that when I asked myself who was TRULY KIND and truly unselfish, only two people came to mind. One of them is my long-time mentor Marcus F. The other is a guy named Joey L.
Two is not great, but I guess it's not bad either. After all, I've only met one person who is truly evil. So if the ratio of good people to evil people is 2:1...well, that's not half bad.
(Thanks, Andrew WK! I feel better now.)
posted by Rex at 4:46 AM
1 Comments:
I think people joke to cover up things. And people enjoy listening to jokes to distract them from other more depressing things. I wonder if it's telling that I enjoyed watching Last Comic Standing before it was cancelled and after it was cancelled. Hm... maybe it does. It would be easier to sprout some "No one understands me" jabble than be all psychological and philosophical. Yes, I think I will do that instead.
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