So, this is my sick and tired of the bullshit rant. It's past due time for it. No. This ain't about me snatching JOY because JOY has been playing Hide 'n Seek with my ass!
I don’t know what the problem is. Well, maybe I do. Lately I’ve been in a deeply dour mood. Been feeling mad stressed, and maybe just a tad distressed. Been feeling overworked, and underpaid… overtaxed and laxly laid. I have been lacking so much for, inspiration, that I’m afraid my soul is now underfed. This could be a case of the typical "I Jess Don't Gits No Respect" Blues, I guess.
In no way, a slacker, I’m just lacking that knack, that zest, that magic drug that makes one feel accomplished. Been working on manuscripts deep into the ungodly hours of the morning, and chances are, no matter my efforts, the work will never be appreciated. Or else, some smooth-ass-ghetto-bred-wannabe-thug-criminally-minded mofo will rip me the hell off. I can’t count on people any more. They leave me thoroughly pissed with their triflin' fits of bullshit and blatant self-involvement.
I’m starting to understand why so many others find solace in the bottle, the beer can, the crack-pipe, in meaningless coitus, or in a needle. I’ve seen too many bad things go wrong for essentially good people. I've seen too much foul shit in general: too much TV and cable news, too much war, and too many viruses, too much of the web, and too much porn and senseless violence.
I’ve witnessed too much of man’s inhumanity to man; the wrong hands placed on women, children, animals… and sometimes I think, just maybe those *needle people* have it right.
I have seen them wandering carefree and aimlessly through the haze of days, and I’m almost filled with envy. At night, these junkies glide down a maze of neon streets, slinking down avenues and onto those roads, less taken. Lately, I’m wondering if the road I’ve taken has really been worth the trip.
I won’t say my head’s messed up, or that I’m depressed. I’m not a big fan nor a subscriber of that concept. Yes. Some people are truly clinically depressed. God Bless them. But other people just use it, own it, cling to the idea of it, until death. I just get down sometimes— that’s all. I get down, and I try to breathe in easy waves, to *center* my chi, and eventually… it goes away.
I believe "Happy" is an unnatural state to be in 24-7, anyway. Lord Save me from those chronically HAPPY(!!!) people!
But I’m tired, damn tired... and bored and deeply uninspired by my day-to-day life.
I’m tired of smiling when my spirit doesn’t feel much like cooperating.
I’m tired of sometimey folks who, at best, can only extend their lukewarm acts of graciousness.
I’m tired of trying to figure and finesse the latest in the hip new handshakes.
I’m tired of making half-broke, half-assed, half-fabulous appearances.
I’m tired of these old clothes that smell like old closets.
I’m tired of the smell of me, my cologne, my hair, my face, my goatee, and my reflection.
I’m tired of people wanting things from me, knowing I’ll most likely be the one *cheated* in the interaction.
I’m tired people telling me “the check’s in the mail!”
I’m tired of practically begging for things that are owed to me.
I’m tired of failure… and of failing to be *felt*.
I’m tired of weird-assed vibes and mixed signals.
I’m tired of nosy people who ask questions that are none of their biz.
I’m tired of making exceptions for ignorant people.
I’m tired of intolerance- even when it comes from me.
I'm tired of fake-azz wannabe "thugs."
I’m sick with braggarts, bling and people who measure their worth by material things.
I’m sick with a media that glorifies this rampant banality.
I’m tired of emails and calls from people with nothing cognizant to say.
I’m tired of supplying wit to thoughtless, witless, depth-free individuals.
I’m tired and bored with my self, my moods, my words, my brooding, and others curiosity.
I’m tired of Presidents, CEOs and powerful people who only possess weak knees.
I’m sick of these new restrictions taking every ounce of my so-called freedom.
I’m tired of the hype, hypers, and the hyping of things I’m supposed to like.
I’m tired of long, boring-ass movies so notoriously overly-priced, that, as a customer, I oughta sue!
I’m sick of exhibitionists claiming to be artists, and really don’t have a clue.
I’m sick of half-assed attempts at music, expensive cigs and TV dinners served cold.
I’m sick of the lies and dissortions of the media, and 15 minute faces I’m supposed to know.
I’m tired of this prevailing phoniness while engaged in my constant struggle to keep it real.
I’m tired of the mediocre shit being praised, tired of preeners and posers and I’m tired of watching what I eat to retain my appeal.
I’m tired of competing, while others are cheating, and I’m tired of these jobs, and the gym.
Sick of entering races I never seem to win. I’m tired of running. Tired of running.
Tired of running and breathing too freakin’ fast!
I’m so tired of the rats, the rat-race and the races of men.
I’m tired of always, always running, damn it!
Sometimes, I just wish I’d learned how to swim.
One.
