Thursday, January 22, 2009

Job's Delima

I'm one cynical bastard. Last week some time someone was remarking on how my friend always seems angry. In fact he's usually quite happy. He jokes and uses sarcasm a great deal, and it never struck me as particularly antagonistic, but apparently he seems an angry fellow nonetheless. He's usually quite happy. That's his default, it's just not what people perceive of him.

Where as I am for the most part angry. In actuality I tend to be bitter, hopeless, and cynical about the world around me. People always take me as happy. I am personable and kind, and people for the most part remember me as a good guy. I am perceived as a very happy guy. The fact of the matter is that's not the case.

I'm not bothered by people's misconceptions on that front mind you, it's just something interesting to note. under whatever fa├žade I present I am not very pleased with the way things are. Of course there are moments of happiness, and of course I love certain things about the world. I haven't hardened into a shell lacking in enjoyment, I just feel that there is far more suffering than joy to be had.

I don't know what that means, I just know that happiness is marred by the stain of previous sorrow, and sorrow is made the worse for the same.

I know others have it worse, and that is another point at which my view turns downward. Others have it worse! If my suffering, and the shit that I rather dislike dealing with is in the realm of lesser evils, then the greater evils are monumental. Truly, if there are enough who are worse off than I, and few enough who are better off, where does this conception of life as good come from?

I know most of the reasons we try to slant things to the positive. That doesn't help me. I'm not asking why people think there is good, I know why that is, I'm asking where the good actually is.

That music helps me assuage the pain isn't proof enough of some greater meaning, or some generally good, or even indifferent, existence. Music and words are my saving grace's and they only help me cope. They don't make for an equal ledger. I still don't think there is anything that will.

So that's my problem. I am pleasant, I try to make the world better by my influence. I am aware of my actions, and aware of how I deal with others. I am trying to be a good person, whatever that means, and I'm trying to find out what that means as well.

Every bit of my ability I put towards making myself whole enough to make the world better, and I've nothing to show for it as of yet.

no Karma, no God, no reward. I struggle on because I have to, and because my music and words allow me to, not because I have gotten anything for being a good person. Why do I try, because I can't do anything else.

So what is the point of my effort if I am given nothing but madness debt and depression in return?

There is no point to my effort. Realising that activates a feedback loop.

the sadness gets greater and then I find I can do nothing, then the sadness gets even greater, and so again it goes around.

If I see you on the street I will be kind, perhaps moreso than the other people you meet. If I know you, I will seem happy, also moreso than most of the people you see. However, somewhere behind all this is some seriously pent up anger, and depression, which is rendered inert only when the fires of Mania, or the influence of drugs takes hold.

It is not my fault, in fact I have done all in my power to fix it, all in my power to help not just myself, but everyone else as well.

And Somehow that this should be my wages just doesn't seem right.

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