Here’s the advantage of living in a post-apocalyptic world where we would kill each other like animals – we wouldn’t have to have conversations anymore. At no point in any Mad Max movie does Mad Max get stopped by an older single woman who has strong opinions about mail delivery.
I’m tired of talking to people. I don’t care about your life. You don’t care about my life. Unless we can help each other financially, why must we chat? I’m feeling disgusted by the whole concept of verbal communication – look at dogs. They have it figured out. I could probably learn a lot more from person by smelling their rear end than by hearing their lies, and Vice versa.
It’s thoughts like this that make me realize the older I get, the more I’m becoming a Ferengi. It’s unnerving to watch Deep Space Nine and say to myself “I can see Quark’s point of view.”
To sit with somebody I love in pure and total silence, without the need to fill the pause with vacuous language – that sounds like it could be pleasant. But are such relationships possible?
I remember watching a nature program about Bald Eagles, and about how they try to live as far away from human noise as they possibly can. And I’m watching clips of the eagles sitting on their nest, looking quietly patriotic. Of course, they probably know they’re on camera. And as soon as the cameraman leaves, one eagle turns to the other and says “that thing you mentioned to me the other day really pissed me off.”
I’m struggling to finish this post because I am drifting in and out of drowsiness. Why? Because it’s 2:16pm on a Sunday and I am that out of shape.
“Well, the Europeans always take a nap in the afternoon,” my mother would say. “It’s natural for the human body to get tired in the afternoon.”
So my choices are as follows: I take a nap, have a nightmare, and go about my day, or I feel horrible until sunset. And yet, at the same time, I want to live as long as possible. Who designed me?