The Things I Have Carried
I've been carrying a lot of things in my life. No wonder my shoulders are stooped and my heart is heavy. For years I carried a torch and kept an image of a woman alive in my heart. I was a fool. I knew I was, but I couldn't help myself. I loved her. I knew I did. Then one day, in the morning of a beautiful Sunday, I took a walk in the park alone, and as I walked on the bridge over the little pond where koi fishes and turtles were stocked, I had a Zen-like moment when I saw one huge bull frog jump on a lotus broad leaf, alert and full of life, in the full splendor of a morning awash with sunlight and with water
undulating across the pond, driven by brisk winds. That was then I recognized not only the futility of my love for her, but also the prosaic nature of her personality and her subsequent betrayal of me. Ever since, I hardly dream of her. Before that moment of liberation, I dreamed of her with regularity, at least once a month for years on
end, decade after decade. That liberation moment taught me that humans were not to be trusted and almost all were selfish to the core. Subsequent relationships with many assholes have validated and confirmed that observation of mine.
I have also carried in my mind feelings of unresolved anger against certain assholes who have falsely accused me of plagiarism regarding my writings in English. These assholes have not been able to substantiate their despicable allegations. These assholes have not been able to live with themselves that I seem to be so much at home with the English language while they are not. I have repeatedly challenged them to a debate in English, but none of the motherfuckers has dared to accept my challenge because they know I will crush them like a bug while exposing their pathetic command of the language despite living in the U.S. for decades on end. My feelings against these scumbags fester, simmer, and linger until I don't know when they will manifest themselves in actions. Hate is a corrosive emotion if one does not know to handle it. It must be viewed as a servant, not a boss. One thing I do know is this: the more I know
humans, regardless of whether they are males or females, most are selfish and hypocritical and diseased to the core and not worth cultivating the friendship. In my view, they are nothing but animals, pure and simple. My hatred for some monkeys is immense, my contempt boundless. I feel nauseous at the mere sight of their names, let alone of their hemming and hawing, their muttering and sputtering of their
ill-informed, half-digested facts and jejune, sophomoric "thoughts". Now I fully understand why tyrants acted the way they did and why there have been serial killers. Catharsis had to be achieved. Defiance and insolence had to be crushed and punished. Vengeance had to be exacted. Meanwhile I just have to wait for the right moment of reckoning and keep the memories and flashbacks involving the assholes at bay and
under control.
Having written the above paragraph, I am suddenly recalling a certain D H, a county commissioner imprisoned for bribery and is now released early for good behavior. H, the son of Cuban immigrants, is the youngest of three children. He was two years old when his father abandoned the family.The local newspaper conducted an extensive interview of H and wrote a profile of how he had rehabilitated himself during his imprisonment. H came across as gifted with people skills and incredibly articulate in assessing the reasons for his downfall and the prospect of his recovery. While I certainly don't have his gifts, his taking anger management class (my blood is almost reaching the boiling point as I am typing these words and I have to tell myself to fucking wait because haste makes waste, and I certainly don't wish to lay waste to my life over an asshole when the opportunity has not presented itself yet) and his words about arrogance have driven home and are worth quoting at length as a reminder to myself and for my own benefits:
"My personal and professional conduct was wrong. My conduct during the trial was wrong, and that's something I'm going to have to live with the rest of my life. The guilty verdicts didn't surprise me. They actually brought me an incredible sense of relief. Ultimately truth is truth and justice is justice. When you're operating from a place of entitlement and arrogance as I was, you believe what you're saying is the truth. You trick yourself.
People are fair to be skeptical when I say I have changed, but I no longer have to worry about opinion polls and votes. I am not seeking validation from anyone. I also know that doing the right thing is so much more important than saying the right thing. I don't regret anything, because I'm proud of who I am. I like who I am, much more
than ever before in my life. And I can attribute that to all of my experiences—the good and the bad."
By the way, in prison, H worked as an administrative clerk and instructor in the education department, earning $18 to $30 a month. He took anger management and parenting classes. He voluntarily taught other classes. He played sports. He worked out and trimmed down. He earned his certification as a personal trainer. Evidently, he used his time constructively. Five days of leaving prison, he began working as a senior account executive for a media company. A year and a half later, he gave notice at the media and accepted two jobs: one as director of community outreach and development for the Institute of Professional Careers, and one as executive director for a nonprofit
organization that provides educational and recreational programs to children in a county's child welfare system.
Those who have stayed with me so far would wonder if I am a sane and happy fellow. The answer is that I have my moments. And I am not as lonely as I used to. I keep myself occupied and I don't have much need for human company because sooner or later most humans disappoint and nauseate me. In addition, most of them are stupid and ill-informed, making a dialogue with them a real chore. True, I am getting to be misanthropic. I know I am repeating myself, working myself into a frenzy. I ironically feel most alive when I am angry and furious. To find release for these feelings of aggression, I reach for the pen and I scribble furiously of whatever comes to my feverish mind, for hours at a time, until I am spent and the demon beats a retreat. One sad and funny fact about humans is that the more they reveal themselves to me, the more I find them boring and petty-minded and even stupid. I mean, their concerns and interests are prosaic and vastly different from mine. It's getting to the point I keep them at arm's length from me and I no longer really talk to them because I find most of them not
interesting at all, apart from the sheer oppressive insipidity of their lives which is mind-boggling to me. I certainly cannot go through life as they do. Call me arrogant. Call me undeservedly elitist, if you want. Call me anything. But don't call me uncurious. In fact, inquisitiveness is what has kept me alive. I chuckle when people complain that they are tired of my talking about myself. I chuckle some more when I see people take seriously "feng shui", astrology, palmistry, and similar shit. I often see humans dispense "opinions" without substantiation. dismiss other's opinions and ideas without cause, just because the opinions and ideas of others are different from theirs. Frankly, as I age, I tend not to give a fuck what others think of me. As far as I'm concerned, they can kiss
my royal hairy ass. Do I come across self-absorbed and overly touchy while claiming impervious to what others think of me? Fuck, you could be right. I do know this for sure: although I am aware I am not the most righteous, noble, fair-minded, pleasant, cool guy you ever met, I do know there are so many scumbags and douche bags and assholes out there, guys that make me realize that I am not that badcompared to them, guys I avoid as if they were lepers because frankly they are the seeping sores of humanity and deserve to be exterminated. Now I understand why people see gory and horror movies. Folks have to get their rockers satisfied vicariously somehow, otherwise they themselves would have to take matters into their hands.
Although I denounce liars, I carry a heavy guilt for lying to a woman. I said I would marry her once I turned 30, but I had no intention of doing so. I am 70 now and she still hangs around. That makes me feel really bad. I am a coward, a rake, a raffish fellow, even a ruffian. I am no better than the scums and assholes I despise. But tell me, why
should I marry anybody now? All the horror stories I've heard about divorces and ugly lawsuits concerning money disgust me. I read in the news that Tiger Woods ponied up 750 million dollars to buy silence from his ex-wife. That was much less what Steve Wynn, the ex-boss of Wynn Casinos paid to his ex-wife. I trust humans no more. No
sir, I do not. If I have my way, everyday I would take one out for target practice.
To balance things out, I carry a romantic fantasy (in my mind, superfluously speaking) for decades now, for a dream woman. She is sweet, smart, sassy and sexy. She understands me, tolerates me, and loves me. In moments of distress and loneliness, I think of her and I would calm down. Everybody dreams. Some dream of going to heaven after they die, where they will meet their "Maker". Other dreams of power and riches. I dream of a certain woman who inspires me to become who I can be. What you've been reading is not the real me, you idiot. You really think I'm this bitter, this sick, this unbalanced? Haven't you heard of dramatic irony and willful suspension of disbelief? Come on, use your imagination. Don't tell me you don't have any. Really? Then
get the fuck out of here. You're wasting your time. You would never "enjoy" reading these words of mine.
Last, for now and obviously not least, those who have interacted with me have discerned an unmistakeable baggage I've on my right, but wrong, shoulder, and that is my death wish. This wish has explained why I act in an irrational manner at times. Why the death wish in the first place? I don't know. It certainly helps me sleep better at night and face problems—mostly created by me—better. I have a theory: suicidal people should go out and do something that put their lives in danger. If they fail, they die and thus get their wish; if they succeed, they might get rid of the depression that gave rise to suicidal thoughts in the first place. Unfortunately, suicidal people are usually depressed and drained of energy. They don't want to do anything except of thinking of killing themselves even though they know self-destruction is bad and "sinful" (if they happen to be Christians and were brainwashed into believing in that shit). So they struggle to stay alive until one day they give in to the thoughts because they suffer too much and they want relief and they don't care the impact of their deaths on their loved ones and on their "God”.
Wissai
May 5, 2019
