(Phaysis)

Who’s the sad sack sitting in front of his laptop at the coffeeshop? That’s right.

I shouldn’t complain, though. At least I’m not sitting in front of my computer at home.

2011 was supposed to be better than 2010. It wasn’t.

2010 was supposed to be better than 2009. It wasn’t.

2009 was supposed to be better than 2008. It wasn’t.

Ad infinitum.

The problem with the “growth” thinking of “we must get better and better” is that it blindly ignores the fact that over a span of time, the good and bad stuff averages out to a flat gray. If you take any negative moment and view that as the death of all that is good in the world, then you’re setting yourself up for disappointment. Bad stuff happens. Good stuff happens. That’s life.

My hope for 2012 is that I learn to accept the average, that I get comfortable with the baseline, and that I pick up the slack and do something that’s worth it. Cheers.

In 1972, President Nixon signed into law the proclamation that the third Sunday of June would be designated “Father’s Day”, in honor of fathers across the country. The holiday, 50 years in the making, finally achieved acknowledgement and recognition.

By way of coincidence, that was the same year I was born the bastard son of a man who never acknowledged me. I have never been recognized as his only son. His firstborn, 38 years in the making.

So here’s to you, Clyde Denver Thomas. Fuck you.

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What bothers me most about Easter is that it becomes brutally apparent to me how different I and my ideologies are from those around me. There are a few christian holidays a year, and it’s on those days that those in my various circles of friendship, who are otherwise filial and unobtrusive, get irritatingly noisy. Being a member of Facebook serves to amplify this effect.

I have the regrettable fortune of growing up in a largely christian society. It was fine when I believed as they believed, when I went with the grain and became engrained with the monotheistic, evangelical culture. But the moment I dropped out, I immediately found myself contrariwise to the culture and out of step.

The atheists are no better. The christian and jewish holy week leading up to Easter is also the week that the atheists take upon themselves to broadcast their dogma. I don’t mind their dogma. Hell, I’m an atheist myself. But I refuse to evangelize. It’s that desire to make others believe as they believe that makes them exactly the same, in my eyes, to the christians and their “Great Commission” — which is “Go ye therefore unto all the lands and make disciples of the peoples”. It’s still spreading the seed.

When trees spread their seed and the yellow pollen is in the air, you know what I get? An allergic reaction. To hear a person say “Lift up HIS praises” or “HE is risen!” or “Keep CHRIST in CHRISTmas!” induces an allergic reaction in me, and several times a year I fall ill with disdain.

I am an atheist, but only in the sense that I am nonreligious. I choose to not believe anything; it’s as valid a choice as christianity, judaism, zoroastrianism, or pastafarianism. It’s not that I believe that there is no spiritual plane or no higher deity from whom all matter originates; it’s that I just don’t care, and that’s intentional.

I wish there was an AdBlock for religion.

So the holidays were crappy. That’s par for the course. I hate the holidays, but I try to power through them the best I can. At least I’m getting paid holiday pay this time around; thank the stars for not being a contractor anymore. Still, this xmas sucked ass because the only thing I got in my stocking was a head cold. I would’ve settled for a lump of coal instead.

No idea where the germs came from; most likely the coffeeshop I hang out at with all its weirdos and sickos shaking hands and whatnot. But I think what precipitated the collapse of my immunity against it was my mother’s visit for the holiday. See, she brought her two dogs, which I don’t mind as long as I take an allergy pill. But she smokes like a train, and apparently I lack the backbone to tell my own mother that she can’t smoke in my apartment. Others have smoked in here, but it was one smoke here or there; not an entire pack of really, really cheap tobacco. So after a day of exposure, I woke up xmas morning with a heavy knot of crud at the back of my throat. Happy effing holidays.

Two days and two rolls of tissue later, the fever broke and I was able to breathe through my nose again. Finally. I’ve got to take control of my passive-aggressive ways before they ruin my life further. It’s my life, it’s my house, it’s my health.