Insane in the Mundane

I am trying to think of which day it was when I hit it. Normally when you "hit" something you have done three of the following:

1. Finally gotten laid by that person you've been making out with and then whoops! Home base was scored for both parties.
2. You physically assaulted that one human being that has been annoying you for an eternity and a day after having 500 fantasies of doing so. And though you may be sitting in jail, calling anyone but your mother to bail you out, you have a complete sense of smug satisfaction.
3. You have had a long time coming goal. You have been struggling to reach it as far back as you can remember, when all of the sudden out of nowhere it is accomplished and you feel like He-man.

Well. None of those apply to me at this point. Boo.

I suppose i would say boo if that is technically what I was feeling at this point. And by the way I have hit something completely and utterly different. It's the one where you were losing mad weight and you are on the cusp of looking hot but that extra 1.5 lbs just won't shake itself from your everloving gut no matter how hard you try. It's called.....a....PLATEAU.

Yes. Stagnant. Not fresh. Not rotting. Simply just existing waiting for one or the other to happen yet neither does. For some reason there is no expiry date on the container so you are left with a mystery that you cannot afford Sherlock Holmes to solve.

I don't know if I made mention of this specifically I tend to blather on a lot, but someone recently asked me the question: What is making your life so mundane?

I guess if we want to get into the shallow specifics of it all is that trying to break down what is making it so mundane has become mundane in and of itself.

I think the older I get in age years the less I understand that the human psyche is so seamlessly able to be able to accept the mundane as a perfectly rational way to exist.

But then again, I think about that fact that that makes me sound like some sort of cocky asshole and have to start rationalizing that I may have the problem of not being able to accept that updating a Facebook status with, "Just wakin' up!" may be a great method of being able to let others into your life.

What may be considered my hell could be another's heaven. Maybe the devioust in me and the atheist in me refuses to take this life lying down. With that white picket fence smothered in 39494 shitty diapers while working eight jobs and posting infant vomit updates. But then again, there are obviously enough people out there that love Creed's music enough to make them wealthy, so perhaps my taste in life is a little like someone's taste in music. We are bound to enjoy and be fulfilled by completely and utterly different things.

Aside from that fact, just waking up person with said bajillion children does appear to be happy. Whereas, I sit here floundering trying to figure out what really is going to make my bubble swell.

So this post ends with....no resolution. Do not consider myself a resolutionary. Yet.

Counterpartductive

Wow.

I have not been on here in a bit. I almost forgot how to log in. Let's just say I have been thoroughly distracted. But something (gin) whispered into my ear that it was time to make a new post. (boredom and gin)

So my 30 Songs in 30 Days is most definitely going to be 30 Songs in 30 Years.

My health has improved significantly. My ability to pay bills with no paychecks....not so much. It's a long story that has a lot of me saying blah blah blah in it, but we will just say that as of Friday I was officially Fed Ex Overnight terminated from my less than understanding place of employment that I had worked at for 6 arduous years.

Said place in which I sell many an item to supplement my income has started holding funds on every item I sell "just because" is the most coherent answer I can get after many a phone conversation. But honestly, I am not bitter. This. Is all TBE. (to be expected)

If at least 34839743 stupid things don't happen to me a month, then I am am not meeting my metric of retardicity. I did get a diagnosis which was awesome after 12 years of not knowing, but also saddening, as I do not know what to do with this broken little body now.

I suppose that doesn't matter because everyone else seems to know what would be the best method for me so maybe I should just continue drinking those brain cells into the black abyss from whence they came!

But that is neither here nor there. Part-time work, which was once so easy to find, has not become an impossible feat to overcome. I am still pushing for it though, as I feel like I have been a drain on all of those nearest and the very most dearest to me. For the love of God, I was telling my mother of the tale about my dog that enjoyed hunting down and eating all of my underwear and how I planned on being commando until I could go buy more today. I intended this to be a humorous tale, as my sweatpants with commando action fell down in my backyard, and I was praying that none of my neighbor friends had witnessed this horrifying event. But instead, she got very sadfaced and tried to shove $20 bill in my hand to go purchase new unmentionables.

When your mother is trying to hand you money for underwear, that means it is time to find work.

All of that said, I love, love, love the people that invented me.

All of that being said, let's get to our song. This is dedicated to my male counterpart that lives across the many seas out with the hobbits, and stuff and things. We phone speak on occasion via Skype and our timezones never mesh, so it has made for some fun times. Probably one of the more funnier people I have encountered in my life, and when it is time for me to leave for homework, this song gets sung in my ears.

I then proceed to laugh my everloving brains out as it is great, and as I wake up with it in my head for the next week and a half or so, and as I love this song's face off.

There is more dreamy hair in this video than you can shake a brush at.