perspective is everything

I need something else.

As I drove my car in search of the most pleasing drive-thru food venue, I realized that not only did I hate living in the suburbs, I hated living on earth. Hate is a strong word, so I already wish to rephrase that past sentence. I feel quite uneasy about living in the suburbs. Everything is drab. I drove past our busiest intersection, and the row of SUVs and vans truly depressed me. On my way home, three blocks away from my house, a police car, flashing its lights, was pulled into someone's driveway. Does it make me a horrible person to conclude that something humdrum had happened, like domestic abuse or burglary? What's wrong with me?

The chocolate shake I got from McDonald's was to cheer me up. I sucked it down like a narcotic, my eyes watered, the lights from the street I was speeding down turning into perfect, if unfocused, asterisks. I decided to listen to almost entirely electronic music. With my top down, I looked at the moon and thought, life would be a lot better if I didn't have to live permanently on earth. Is that weird?

There are so many planes that fly into O'Hare; their differing flight plans make it seem like there is a lot of diversity in their different body plans. Perspective is everything. Some are far away, they look small, they must be unmanned or have one passenger. Some are much closer, they look large, and they are landing soon. But maybe instead of being a 757, maybe it's a luxury ship. Who knows. I care.

I could stare at the moon for hours. Right now, Mars looks like it's very close to it. Or at least, I think that's Mars. Usually it's Venus, but Venus is white, and the object looks red. I know little to nothing about astrology. Or astronomy. Whatever. But I know a lot about science fiction. And life would be a lot better if I didn't have to live mine.

I've always wanted to be a pilot of some sort. But I have crappy eyes. And I have a debilitating fear of heights... and death. It'd be beyond awesome to be the space equivalent of a jet pilot. I could have a snarky robotic co-pilot. People confined to spend most of their time planet side would talk about my heroics. I'd have a fan club. People would find me attractive. I always thought I was attractive in real life, but I'm starting to question that. My face isn't perfectly symmetrical, so there's that. I also have a pretty horrific record for making out with ugly people, or getting my heart broken by really, just not cool people. None of this makes sense. I'm much more interesting, fascinating, and I'd say attractive than the (last time I checked... seven) white and asian women who have outbid me. But hey, eighth times the charm. Meanwhile, I haven't really accomplished anything. Seriously. My life, if not a failure, is really lacking in the accomplishments department. So I've written two novels. Anyone who can string together a sentence could write two novels. I rarely volunteer. I rarely do anything exciting. Some people think I'm nice. A few people even think I'm a sweetheart. But I've alienated a lot of my closest friends and I don't understand why simple human interactions are consistently so impossible for me. Nothing makes good sense to me anymore. It's like I'm living the wrong life.

I'd rather be forever stuck in a fantasy world with abstract rules that I'd have to re-learn than continue on this path. Do I want a psychotic meltdown? I think that's what I'm saying. But I don't want to harm anyone. I just... I want to feel like there's something more to life. Like, if I had a very convincing auditory and visual hallucination of a robotic co-pilot that followed me around, and always hinted that there was something out in the universe we could be doing, but he/she/it fully acknowledged that my earth-bound life was also important, maybe that would be enough to satisfy the horrific amount of emptiness I currently feel.

Tomorrow I will put on my aviator goggles and bravely step into the unknown (except it is always too well known) and try to achieve that psychotic break. Sadly, the only drugs I feel comfortable with are alcohol (which won't do) and nicotine (but I don't approve of extended use of death sticks, a.k.a. cigarettes). If they still made Four Loko, I'd probably just stick with that to achieve mind alterations. But the FDA really likes keeping people entrenched in our mutual horrific reality.

Well, I guess I shouldn't say it's mutual. Someone somewhere is probably happy and not bored. But that person is not me. Until I'm content to being bored, alone, and unhealthy in my self-loathing, I will persist in my constant listening to this song, Information Age by Rad Omen:

We're all statistics
you're just a number


You're a statistic
You've got a number
No one is human
Life doesn't matter


In the information age

That's pretty depressing. But also, oddly, uplifting. Carry on my wayward solar traveler.

Thanks. I'll need it.