Beware of hungry pets

It is obvious to me that you don’t really love me.

I went to see Dr. För****. I think I have a problem. I started crying in the middle of work on Sunday and just walked out of the building. After talking with my employer on the phone from the parking lot, he gave me Monday off so that I could go talk to someone. I just want the pain to stop because I can’t handle the complete sorrow that I feel. I feel like walking out in front of a bus. When I think that way I also think that it would not matter. You wouldn’t care. You would just go on dancing at sport’s bars and playing pool like I never mattered at all. Vir*** would be totally happy too. She told me to go away once and having me dead would really solve a lot of her problems. She could then marry you and become a citizen. That would solve her illegal status.

Dr. För**** is the person who said that I was like a moth destructively trying to reach the beautiful street light with its illusion of warmth and caring only to be burnt alive and left to rot on the street below. I’m doing this to myself. I’m allowing myself to be torn up by an abusive partner in a very abusive relationship. I know this, but I don’t know why. Why is it that I am so obsessed with you? Why is it that I would be willing to do whatever you want even though those things are so often completely against my own interests?

My doctor, Dr. För****, also told me to call immigration. Fight back. That’s what I have been thinking about. Do I or do I not take care of the problem with a single phone call? If what you are saying is true and it doesn’t matter what I or you do, we’ll get back together eventually, then I could totally fuck this bitches world up and you would forgive me.

Do I let you go and on with my life and never talk to you again? If you care so little about me that you would hurt me like this, why would I ever speak to you again? How could I ever trust you again? I did it once before – stopped talking to you. I could easily block all communication from you. All I would have to do is move and ask my ex-wife to change her phone number. You would never find me.

Do I do what you want and let you divorce me and so that you can live with an intolerant woman in the hopes that someday you get bored with her and come back?

Those really are the choices. Are they even choices at all?

In any case, I have an appointment with Dr. Klu***. I might get myself locked up. It would be so easy to take all the pills in the house. All I would have to do is go by a bottle of whiskey, drink away my inhibitions and just do it. I think that I might tell him that’s the way I feel. Nobody would even notice for weeks if not months. I would have to dump the dog in the woods somewhere​ so that she didn’t eat my corpse. But when you are dead, who the fuck really cares?



Word of the day: flattery

If a person says to you, “You look great today” there is always some sort of pressure to return the compliment immediately; to say something like, “You look great too”. For me, giving and receiving compliments has always felt awkward. Personally, I wish that people would not compliment me at all. I always feel like I have to return the compliment whether I want to or not. Generally, there is always so sort of delay before I manage to think of something to say.

I never really thought about the meaning of flattery. I thought it meant something like compliments between the lovers. You know, flattering a potential lover who you find attractive. I thought that flattery meant: light and playful compliments. I never really thought of flattery to mean, “false and insincere praise”. Maybe that is why I have always suspicious of compliments. Is this a legitimate compliment or is this insincere flattery? Does this person mean what they are saying or are they trying to get something from me?

It is interesting that we have words to describe people’s suspicious behavior. Obviously I’m not the only one who distrusts compliments. If I were, words like flattery would not even exist. Somebody a long time ago must have recognized that some sneaky bastard was trying to fool them with compliments and decided to coin a word for it. Blabbery, Slimeary, Conflabulary, oh yeah, flattery, that’s perfect. It sounds nice and yet it means “motherfucking, sneaky liar with a snake tongue trying to fool everyone”.

I suppose the same feelings I have about false praise and flattery are the same feelings I have for Hillary Clinton. You know that when she says that she wants to stop fracking, raise the minimum wage to $15, to fight for gay rights, you know that you doesn’t mean any of it. All she wants to do is get elected. Hillary will say anything to get elected, just like her husband will say anything to get into your pants.

I never felt as I do now. I want all the candidates to lose. There are no good choices. Everyone is fake. Everyone is a liar.

And you look really good. You look ten years younger. What’s your secret?

Careful – Post of the Day

Word of the day: Careful

Planned and predictable life is a source of boredom. The real happiness lies in accepting the challenges with an extra topping of unpredictability as and when the life throws at us, taming them, and moving ahead like a warrior. –
From the Share Ideas blog

I’m not sure if I agree with this sentiment. It is true that risk is exciting. It is also true that a person will get an adrenalin rush when they do something dangerous and survive. I’m not really sure if that is an argument against being careful or an argument for being reckless.

To be careful is to take care. Carefully working on a task until it is completed with the best outcome would be an example of being careful. Watching what you say, so that you do not unintentionally alienate or offend people is another example.
{Author’s note: I have to go to work now, so I’ll write more about this topic when I get back.}

Argument – Post of the Day

Today I found the Daily Prompt section of WordPress. Since I generally run WordPress on my own server and I rarely use, I have managed to take five years to even notice that the section exists. What a great idea. I wish I would have found it a long time ago. Having a daily prompt is a great way to develop some writing discipline.

Today’s prompt is the word, “argument“.

The idea of having a daily word propt works perfectly with another page I started working on three days ago: Wort des Tages. The Wort des Tages (Word of the Day) page was intended to be a little, self-study page for me. I hope to be able to analyze a German word for about 20-30 minutes each day. I could work on my writing, my German and my typing in little half hour blocks before going on to doing all the other things I have to do after work each and every day.

To get some inspiration, I planned to look through some of the other 150+ posts that have already been posted this morning. The first post that I read annoyed me so much, I felt more like getting into an argument, than writing about how horrible, bad, shameful and destructive arguments are.

The post is written by some Christian lady praising herself for not getting angry at her husband for failing to meet the dirty laundry deadline time. She finished the laundry. He then brought more clothes.

What annoys me is not that she is a Christian or that she quotes the most sickening book ever written — the Bible.  What annoys me is that she actually thinks she should be her man’s servant. She thinks she has to wash his clothes!!

Men who can not wash their own clothes annoy me. These type of men remind me of my fat-ass, stepfather lounging around my childhood house drinking cold cokes while my mother ran around trying to clean everything. Whenever his glass was empty, the fat fuck would snap his fingers until he got my mom’s attention. He would then peer into the glass to show that it was empty. My Christian mother would scurry on over to get the glass and then brought it back ASAP filled to the brim with some more sugar-poison filled Coke. (I’m not saying the piss tasting beverage Coke is actually filled with cancer causing poison or that it is going to strike down, every man, woman or child who drinks it with diabetes. What I am saying is that sugar is poison to the human body. Coke has massive quantities of sugar in it.)

Those feelings are buried deep within me. It has been 30 years since I lived in that house and it still makes me argumentative and angry whenever I think of those fucking fingers snapping. As a teenager, I stayed away from home to stop from grabbing the fucker by the wrist and snapping the pudgy, little, clicking digits off his hand.

After reading this woman’s list of ways to not bitch at her husband for being lazy and inconsiderate, I had to post a comment. Since she is probably going to delete it and then go talk to her invisible friend about what is wrong with me, I posted my comment here.

It is not even profane:

Seriously, your partner should step up and be a man. He should wash his own clothing. What’s with the little boy act? “Mommy wash my clothes for me.” I have washed my own clothes since I was a teenager. Women let themselves get pounded down by their man-babies. If you can’t take care of yourself — wash your own dishes, wash your own clothes, make your own meals — you are still a child and need to grow-up.

Those are my thoughts, you are not a real man if you don’t know how to iron your own pants, wash your own clothes or feed your own self.

Women need to stop bitching about the glass ceiling and do something proactive for once. How about getting your ass out of the kitchen and out of the laundry room. If you want to be respected, make your men wash there own fucking clothing.

But she’s not the only one..

Even though her post was annoying, it was not half as bad as Wil Robinson’s post. His whole blog is made up of the irrational ravings of the insane. I’d post on his page and argue with him, but it will not help. Religion survives because mental health is hard to heal. Once a person starts believing that the voices they hear in their head and the feelings that they have in their stomach are holy communications from an omnipotent being, there is almost nothing that can be said to help them. The man is lost. Humanity is lost.

There is no god Wil Robinson. You won’t be getting your own planet when you die. Live life now. It is all that you have.