It's 2018, and I'm not going to make it unless I stop focusing on — often exclusively — the negative, undesirable, and fearfully problematic aspects of things. Because this year's gonna suck, no matter what spin you put on it: Trump's in office, Americans are experiencing a cultural conniption that almost feels like a civil war, China and Russia are ramping up their sinister machinations, the Ring of Fire looms large in my drained tea cups, and all the commercials I'm seeing on TV fill me with mortal dread (and awful, unforgettable jingles). None of Slandering Dan's posse have assailed me yet, I still have a job, and at least for the time being I'm still enjoying my apartment ... so, I should be thankful, right? Yeah, I don't know how to do that gratitude thing, just like I'm not adept at compassion, patience, contentment, and socializing without being intoxicated.
Well, I'll learn, I suppose, though I reckon what virtues I'll cultivate will end up more resembling Guarded Optimism, True Grit, Fairness and Justice, Longsuffering, and Self-Reliance — a New World Order cattle rustler's stark interpretation of the New Age postmodern man of gentle strength? lol
Ugh! I should be canning instead of sitting in my apartment trying to feel like The Man in the High Castle. Work's slowed down for a couple weeks, so I've been holed up inside watching TV and playing video games, and unsuccessfully avoiding bad company and the worse hooch that I can't do without when I'm in their company for longer than fifteen minutes. I'll get to canning when I'm broke, of course, but evidently I've lost my taste for it: it's dirty and disgraceful, sometimes it's also a miserable slog through the soggy underbelly of heaven, formerly tolerant residents have grown hostile to canners, and there's always the chance of a confrontational encounter with some jackass who woke up on the wrong side of the freeway — worse in my case, since some of those troglodytes have heard a couple people accuse me of being a sexual predator.
Still, canning's ultimately just exercise and gloom-choked sunlight, a chump-change stop-gap to my ultimate problem of needing to find a job that'll work me more than eighteen hours a week (that I can keep!), and to take that money and get a life with it. I always hate it when people say “Get a life!” but there's something to it. Of course, most of the times I've heard that directed at me it meant something stupid like I ought to take up kayaking or I suck for not liking the Foo Fighters. Indeed, I wouldn't mind enjoying some kind of healthy social life and engaging myself in edifying activities ... but I suppose this is more of an end goal, something to get around to in summer when I'm working whatever gigs I'll be working until the next Blazers season. In the meantime, try not to be too negative, try not to drink, and try to get out if only to keep from getting fat.
