Disclaimer: Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental, or sadly circumstantial, or simply may be due to a continued growth in my popularity. No living creature with a heart has been harmed during the making of this piece of art. So, if you sustain any injury (to your ego or otherwise) after reading this, please go to your nearest doctor for an immediate check-up!
Eons ago, when the concept of universe was an exhilarating exercise for the mind, I used to have a sense of humor. Now, it has been overshadowed by sporadic bitchiness, and a recurring tendency to be mournful.
Worrying about whether I am liked or not, appreciated or not and what people are talking about me has suddenly become an important activity of the day. Worrying about the chronic liars, the compulsive hypocrites, the wreckers, breakers and manipulators take precedence over the other trivial hobbies – the latter are more constructive to your personality and peace of mind, you see. Of course, in my more sane days, I wouldn’t have given my time of the day to these people (classified previously as an infinite source of hilarity, and pity definitely) but senility is apparently more common in the old age.
When I was younger, way younger, like in my prime, being talked about, in lies or in semi-truths was a matter of pride. Others have to pay for this kind of popularity, dammit, whereas I, I have a network functioning for free! But now, with creeping age and deeper understanding of how the world works (not in deeds, but in money and lots of mutual flattery and fakery) I need to be convinced over and over again that it’s not me, it’s them. It almost like apologizing to a robber who steals your chain, and finds that it’s 18 carat instead of 22. Of course, often in my case, I have to fight the compulsion to apologize for being a decent person, for being helpful, non-fussy, honest and oh, sometimes for being unable to put on weight. Having a set of morals, and not even the high-handed ones, but the basic ones, as a habit, is a pitiful example of how badly one is faring in this world. If you cannot commiserate with the need to please, and be pleased in return, if you cannot lie and distort facts effectively or create miscommunication, your way in this world is yet to be paved, my dear.
You are your own priority, the only thing that is important, and to hell with the rest. Actually it is better, even advisable, that in your advent to greatness try and trample some others underfoot. Sadly, I have crossed the age for learning new things, I ask too many questions and haven’t yet digested these lessons in my quest to be an exciting, sought-after, popular fixture. Hence, success has always been remiss in my case. I could say, it’s all simply jealousy, over what I am that they cannot be, but then that would be untrue, and naive. Jealousy only goes that far. It is much more greater than that. It is a need to enjoy leisure time effectively. And if one can’t create, what is better than to destroy, even with fiction! But first you need a scapegoat, and therein lies my worth! Need a ‘friend’, anyone?
All those adages about great minds discussing ideas and small, little minds discussing people are all just crap. Great people are born by comparison where the person they’ve chosen to discuss is much less than them in one certain obsolete, inconsequential fact. It is the all important corollary to Einstein’s theory of Relativity: one’s success is directly proportional to the next person’s failures and losses, under the assumption that you also convinced the latter of your grand worthiness. Of course, fishes don’t climb trees and monkeys don’t breathe underwater but why let good, common sense get into the middle of really exciting and effortlessly destructive feel-good bitching and undermining sessions?!
So, anyway, here I was moaning and lamenting, feeling all misunderstood and unloved, when on a day of sudden clarity (one of my better days ever since this what-the-others-are-thinking dementia set in) the colored glasses fell off, and I saw these people for what they were (well, that’s a whole another essay, for another day) and I actually started laughing, at myself!
For whatever’s worth, I have always had a great deal of pride, so what’s with this low standard in people anyway? But ever the optimistic, I must say the last few months have given me a lot of writing material, along with a shocking revelation- I was a lot smarter when I was a teenager.
P.S. May be I haven’t lost that sense of humor yet. I can still laugh at me! ~G.