Pessimist Ranting

ANYONE who dares call me a pessimist as if it’s a bad thing will get bitchslapped by me until their nose bleeds maggots and their head becomes a hallowed ashtray for the butts of my cigarettes. That is a promise.

Lately, all the sleep I have been getting has been a series of absurd and torturous nightmares ending with my waking up struggling to breathe. That’s if I sleep at all — I didn’t sleep last night because of some stupid stupid overthinking that I did NOT ask my brain to do, and which caused me to stay home today because I could not zombie to work because then I would not have produced anything of value.

Then, amidst all that sleep deprivation and mental anxiety, I have to perform at school. I have reports and term papers to write, I have a presentation that’s worth a ton of grades to do, I have to think and write and act normal when all I want to say to all the people in my classes, professors and students alike is: Sod off! I do not care if you want to write about the social positions of students in the classroom, and I do not care if the professor thinks it’s a good idea, I do not care about the history of the American economy, and I do not give a rat’s ass about any of the babies in your bellies –you pregnant students– or your wedding plans –you engaged ones– and most of all, I do not like how bitchy uppish you have become JUST because you will graduate this semester, as if that gives you an automatic god status. So yes, don’t talk to me during breaks. I like it that way. Bitches.

But something tops all that. In the past two weeks, I have had THREE major bad things happen to my beautiful car. First her battery died, then I gave her side a good rub against a trash can I did not see while parking in the garage and thus she needs a paint job now, and today it seems I have to replace the whole transmission system which will cost me a fortune and which was not among my foreseen expenses for March. Interestingly, it all happened after a certain group of people known for their ‘evil eye powers’ saw her for the first time. Am I being irrationally superstitious? No, just stating the facts. What are the odds of your car getting thrice wrecked like that within the span of 14 days from the day a certain group known for their evil eye saw it? I don’t know, you tell me.

And let’s not forget my computer troubles. First I lost everything I had on it upon installing Ubuntu Linux. Then I couldn’t properly install it, so I had to ask for help and then it was properly installed. Then some idiot gave me a malicious command on the SUPPORT FORUMS, and he did it on purpose, and it erased everything on my hard disk AGAIN. That unjustified sick behavior really got to me, it even made me think of extreme ways to vindicate myself.

Oh, yeah, and let’s not forget that in January I lost my bellyring. I had planned to go to NYC in the summer to get re-pierced, but that is almost impossible now thanks to the above mentioned catastrophes that I have had to endure for the past three months since the start of 2008. There’s no going anywhere for me this summer. No break from social censorship, no spa for my sanity, nothing.

That’s not all. I am under a lot of pressure to magically know exactly what I want to do from now until the day I die, and I am supposed to make a huge decision which I am not equipped to make and which will affect every aspect of my life. I am even tired of complaining to people I know about the enormous shites I am facing. I see no point in talking about what’s bringing me down at a single moment, because I know in the next moment something more severe will happen to me and I will complain about it too.

I hate 2008 with all my heart, it is an anathema to me. This March has been worse than last May. As far as I see it, 2008 has been the worst year in my life thus far. And people DARE call me a pessimist with a sneer, as if I am rejecting the joys of life which are flowing into my lap at all times and choosing to be a brooding grump, as if pessimism is a disease of some sort. I call optimism in my case a disease, an obvious state of disconnection from reality. I don’t live in a bubble, you optimists you, I live in reality. Now go ahead, call me a pessimist and curl your lips, if you dare.