02 August, 2007

Being afraid

There's a lot to be afraid of in this world.

We could be sick, or killed by accident, or our loved ones could leave us, or they could be sick or killed by accident. We could fail miserably at everything we try - or maybe even worse - we could be successful for quite some time, such that we expect that life will keep bringing us roses, only to one day be blindsided by a complete and utter trouncing from the elusive powers-that-be. And maybe it's justified, or maybe it's not. For instance, maybe you get escorted out of your building at work one day, after having worked there for years and performed admirably. You don't have the faintest clue why. And then it turns out it is because all these years they have been keeping track of all the time that every employee spends on the internet doing non-work-related activity, and it turned out that you topped the list. And there's some new security regime at the company that decides to make an example out of you. So all this time that you thought "that shit doesn't matter as long as you're getting your job done", you were actually wrong.

So there's a ton of stuff to be afraid of in this world.

What if it turns out that none of your "friends" actually like you, and that they've been gathering in secret, every Wednesday, behind your back, to discuss how they can finally be done dealing with you? If all this time that you thought you were clever and funny, but you were actually the most annoying and obnoxious person to ever walk the earth.

But there's more. Tons of things.

What if Homeland Security has been tapping your phone and when you made that joke about "Wouldn't it be funny if Homeland Security was tapping my phone and I said 'I'm gonna do this, this, and that, on such and such a date, and hurt oh-so-many people'", they were actually recording it all, and they don't think you're so funny. In fact, they know you voted against the administration that created them, so maybe just to teach you a lesson, they will send YOU to Guantanamo Bay for a few years without a lawyer or a trial, or an accusation.

What if a piece of an airplane, or "blue ice", or other random space junk, or a wild goose that just died of a coronary falls on you when you're out for a morning run? Maybe it doesn't injure you real bad. Maybe you just need stitches, or some Advil. But the fact is, now that shit has fallen from the sky and hit you, how confident are you gonna be about going out again? Huh? And of course if you told anyone about it, they're gonna pretend to have empathy for you, and then bring it up at the Wednesday meeting.

I don't know. But there's a lot to be afraid of in this world.

I worry if no one is reading this. I worry if someone is reading this. I worry will you think that I am deranged, or depressive, or dangerous, or pessimistic, or hopeless, or desperate, or boring. I worry if you will tell other people about it whom I don't really want reading it. I worry you won't tell anybody about it, and that it's just writing to myself. Because I'm totally scared of that. This is a blog. Not a fucking diary. And if no one is reading, it's sort of a diary. And honestly, if you were writing in your diary, would you then photocopy the pages and post them on the internet?

If you were me... probably.

I don't know. Maybe I'm not really afraid.

Maybe I don't really care what people think. Maybe I just put it out there because I want to say it for myself and maybe it entertains someone else. Maybe just one person. Maybe only the first half of it, and then the rest got boring and they started skimming it. Maybe I do care what people think, but am more interested in at least giving them the opportunity to think something, rather than know nothing. I don't know which is more intriguing to me. The idea of a stranger reading my thoughts, or a friend, or my sister. I wasn't thrilled when my sister read about my home surgery, I'll tell you that much. I think she told her husband about it too, and she reassured me that he's never gonna bother to look at it. But still. They all think I'm crazy, and this doesn't help any. Ironically, they're all crazy, and it doesn't help any. I think that's ironic, but to an outsider, it probably appears correlated. I don't know... DNA or something like that.

I think I am okay with you reading this.

And I'm not really afraid of all those things. I am not even so much afraid of things that I didn't mention. It's just interesting to note all the shit that we COULD be afraid of, as we walk down the street every day. And the fact that we aren't is kind of interesting. We have a lot of faith in the world functioning as we expect it to function. There are a massive number of unwritten rules by which we abide, or by which we assume the world abides. And the good news is that usually it does.

It would be quite tragic if this is my last blog because I am struck by blue ice tomorrow.

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