[1031] Every One Of You Is Fired

I’m so very tired, but it feels like something is kicking around up there.

“Damn, there I am.”

I’m in it. Well, kind of. I’m doing the thing I envisioned for myself happening much earlier, but it’s happening now. I’m buying, pretty much, what I want to buy. I’m building a business. I’m living fort-life. It's all that and a bag of peanuts.

I wasn’t exactly “called out” for going to a comedy show tonight alone, but it was apparent I was the only one who had done so. I don’t really think of it as being alone though. I’m doing something. I’m doing something I want to do, that I can “afford” in the modern debt-ridden sense of the word. This has been the “obvious” pursuit of most my life. I want to do something, I try to do it.

Apparently, that’s the autistic part in full force. “People” are ever-abstract and nondescript in what they want. While I’m feeling confused and betrayed, what’s actually happened is a fundamental miscommunication between people who have not been speaking the same language. It’s not their fault they don’t mean what they say. It’s not my fault I seemingly have a condition that needs things to mean things in order for them to make sense.

The average person sees 4 concerts a year and .69 comedy shows a year, according to a hesitant ChatGPT.

I had to go to sleep.

It's 1:11 PM the next day. I’ve only just gotten out of bed, made coffee, and still feel myself hesitant to doing 30 minutes, maybe, of work before I start up again Monday. I do that “average person” search thing in trying to orient myself a lot. What’s the average mortgage payment or rent? Between $1100-$1500. What’s the average amount of sexual partners? 6.4. I like going back to tests and seeing scores indicating my capacity and potential. I know we’re all average across an infinite scope of variables, but there is little I look at and genuinely believe I couldn’t get really good at or master when I put my head and focus into it.

I am genuinely struggling to just do my work things. Although, this time it’s not causing anxiety. I’m “blocked” like a struggling creative trying to put out their next album. This weekend hasn’t felt like a weekend. I tried to put my computer together only to get interrupted by unknown unknowns and “should have been there” pieces that weren’t included. The symphony show was meh, so I paired it with a decent comedy show a couple hours later. I’ve had one of my favorite burgers to eat. I got 2 more people to sign up for my company’s services. I’m going to another show in a few hours.

There’s still resistance. The topics of conversation have centered around how annoyingly hopeless and lying people are. I’m isolated in that I have a desire, at all, to not be “average.” My “personal philosophy” encapsulated in so many blogs attempting to pragmatically orient is mine and mine alone. After 1,030 entries I’m 1,030 more steps along a lonely road than nearly everyone I’ll ever meet. My existence will make this condition worse and worse the longer I’m alive.

What do I do about that? Keep playing along at my job? I, not quite accidentally, have 4 people currently signed up to the website I started a few weeks ago. I still, weekly, get affirmations about my ability to counsel and encourage. I’m waiting for a “comfortable transition” between my current role and operating independently. I’ve deliberately walked myself into a debt corner so I’d stop too seriously entertaining quitting too quickly. But, why not just go for it? I still don’t have the trust in myself to connect? No, I don’t trust the world to fill in the blanks. I think it’s hard enough to get a handful of people to fall in line on either side of what I’m doing, I’m not going to pull out the net, even if there’s some money already realized and in the account.

There’s a deafening emptiness surrounding me. I guess I can’t make out which direction to walk. It’s all for what? It’s all for who? My friends will unironically talk about needing to get out more and turn down or ignore invitations routinely. It’s not the money or the time. It’s not me. It’s that they don’t know what they’re talking about. They don’t know, or trust, in what they need to not be like they are. To realize your power and responsibility is to court insanity. They “feel” like “things” are “crazy enough,” even if they don’t know what that means.

As my company grows, the amount of distance I’ll put between me and what I’ve come to conceive, coldly, as “learning opportunities” will be practically infinite. When I get to the point of being able to be anywhere in the world either doing my job or collecting enough from the ecosystem, whenever I please, it’s hard to believe I’ll be able to maintain much of the memory of so many hapless or incoherent souls. I’ll be 35 in a few months. I was convinced I would be living an upgraded version of the life I am now 10 years ago. Which of your goals are you 10 years behind on? You think you’re gonna be more or less likely to achieve them in your 40s than you are now? How many of your favorite artists will be dead by then? What new health problem is looming? People aren’t showing up for themselves well before I ever need to complain they aren’t showing up for me.

These notes don’t look anymore appealing, but the block is less heavy. I should get them done, utilize my upgraded shower, get my other favorite burger before the show tonight, and watch this week go by in a flash until pay day where I can take another bite out of debt. My probation emailing trick hasn’t proven to work, I don’t know when I’ll find it in me to fuck with the new computer again, and I’m sure the rain will continue to antagonize regarding all I wish to do outside. It’s alright. I have no real problems, still. I can launch myself into any new direction to address what’s on my mind in any given moment. This thought does not drive me mad. Thinking like that, but not feeling it at the same time would.