What will I do there? These are human, practical concerns, not existential ones. They are stressful for human, practical reasons, not existential ones. If I pack my stuff and move to Tucson, I need to do that and find a job. Period. Simple.
I've actually been lightly perusing job boards here, and I can't motivate myself to consider what I "want" to do. More legal assistant work? There's not much else that I'm qualified for. There's nothing that I "want" to do to earn a living.
Earn a living: I need to make money to pay rent, to pay for food, to pay bills, and I do this . . . why? To ride my bike, to go out for drinks, to hang out with friends, to buy DVDs and watch them.
To engage in the mating dance, to consider buying property to call my own, to consider starting a family? To accept the aging process and getting old, to set sights on retirement 30 years from now? To wake up in the morning, to continue my body processes, to continue living in the now? Why? Because these things make me happy. These things are living.
Why do I think I'm so special, so much better than everyone else, that I don't have to do what everyone else does for the reasons they have? What right do I have to be different, to have a different paradigm? I can't even come up with one of my own, one that allows me to stay alive.
If I can't even do that, I don't deserve to think of myself as different. So just live on. Get your fucking job and pay your fucking bills like everyone else. Let all those questions you have sink to the bottom of the fish tank that you'll buy once you've accepted that you have to live.
It's OK to be miserable living a life, even if you question the very existence of it. Life is suffering, it's the first noble truth of Mahayana Buddhism. If I can't accept that life is suffering, then I can't accept even the first noble truth.
I can walk myself through the logic, it still escapes me.
July 29, 2003; 7:29 P.M. - Default shot outside my front door. Corner of Hampshire and 19th Streets.
