Questions Concerning Humanity and Utility

Humans are an interesting lot. It seems at once like yesterday and like forever ago that I wrote my blog entry, “Humans Are Actually Terrifying.” It seemed a popular enough piece at the time, but I think it’s good to spark some dialogue about the human condition and our habits as we live our lives.

            A classmate of mine asked, regarding architecture, “At what point does development become meaningless?” This made me think of some other things I have thought about, other questions I have asked: At what point do we realize that not every single human needs to ‘make a living’ in order to be valued and loved? What is the true purpose of cancer and why are we so intent on and obsessed with curing it in all its forms? What further studies can we do that might tell us the reason cancers appear? Isn’t cancer simply the evolutionary process taking place? Why do we grieve those who die? Is death not merely a part of life that we should all accept? Should we not honor the dead for who they were in life, rather than bemoaning the fact that they no longer breathe our same air?

            We should celebrate the lives of those who have passed. Take, for example, the late, great, Alan Rickman. Or, perhaps, the wonderful Carrie Fisher. Yes, it is sad that they are gone because they were wonderful to see on screen. Has it crossed no one’s mind, though, that perhaps it was their time to go? It may seem premature to us, as we expected Carrie Fisher to finish the Star Wars movies and Alan Rickman to tell his great-grandchildren about Harry Potter, but since when has the world cared about what humans think should happen? Life happens on its own terms and we simply need to grab on, hold on tight, and figure it out as we plunge forward with the persistent march of time. I was particularly devastated with the passing of Robin Williams. He was like the cool uncle I knew and loved but had never actually met. I felt an intimate connection with him that I would like to mention before anyone tries to tell me I simply don’t understand because I was never a true fan. It felt as though a family member and a true friend had passed when Robin Williams took his own life and I cannot fathom why he did it. All I know is that he was found to have hung himself on the day I gave birth to my daughter. Coincidence? I don’t believe in coincidences. For a while, I mourned Robin Williams, but I realize now that the best thing for me to do is to continue his legacy by ensuring that my wonderful daughter knows all of his movies, so that she can see what a wonderful soul we had with us for some time. I want her to know Robin Williams as I knew him, to feel him as intimately as I felt him, even and especially when he discussed mental illness. Robin Williams can help teach my child compassion and wherewithal, even if there is no longer a chance of my meeting him in person. I hope we can all think of our favorite late celebrities in this way.

            What is cancer, really? I always imagine one of two things. The first is to imagine feeling lumps multiplying within my body at an exponential rate, so that each time I poke a particular part of my body, it feels like more and more little balls are forming within. The other is to imagine what cells look like as they multiply… and multiply, continuously. Why do cells become cancerous? What purpose could cancer serve that humans are blind to due to our “divine spiritual and intellectual development”? People like to share things on social media that condemn cancer for the suffering it induces in those who become sick with it. People like to do things like participate in Relay for Life and purchase items from the Susan G. Komen Foundation for Breast Cancer Awareness (a scam if I’ve ever seen one). “Cancer is horrible!” “Fuck cancer!” “Rest in Peace Grandpa, Grandma, Auntie Susie, and Uncle John, all cancer victims…” I do not seek to belittle the emotional implications behind the suffering endured by cancer patients. I do, however, seek to belittle the way in which we approach the topic. Why do we think it is so vital to save every single life that comes into this world? Why are we the only species on the planet that coddles the weak and unfit? Is it so that we can flash our Good Guy Badges in one another’s faces and claim we’re such excellent citizens because we have compassion? What is true compassion? At what point does compassion turn from strength to weakness?

            I believe death is a part of life. I believe that we need to accept the inevitability of bodily death and focus less on what happens afterwards and more on what happens beforehand. The religious are, in many cases, entirely too focused on what seems to be the end of the journey that is life. I believe wholeheartedly in living in the moment as much as possible. Of course, it is important to plan for the future. After all, we do have an average life span depending on demographic and geography, so that virtually every person on this planet could plan as if to live up to that point. In this way, people could be prepared for the future even if they weren’t to reach as far into it as they’ve planned. We also need to learn from the history we are taught and presented, as well as do our own historical research in order to develop well-rounded ideas of what has happened over time and what mistakes were made, so that we do not continue to repeat that which has been detrimental to our livelihoods. It has been said that the smart man learns from his mistakes while the wise man learns from the mistakes of others. I believe this is true and I strive to learn from the mistakes of others so that I can push forward and hopefully contribute to human evolution in a positive manner. This leads me to a connecting point…

            In coddling the weak and unfit and by supporting those who would otherwise die in nature’s survival of the fittest, do we waste resources on those who do not contribute to our futures? In what way are the severely handicapped useful to our lives aside from teaching us a level of compassion that is virtually useless? At what point will our habit of coddling the weak come back to bite us in the ass due to overextension of resources? We are already an overpopulated species on this planet and we continue to fuck up the environment by transporting wildlife from place to place, disturbing local ecosystems and forcing species after species into extinction not only from the transport of species to new lands but also from such abhorrent activities as shark finning and bottom trawling our oceans. We worry about sustainability but who will we be sustaining for? At what point will we need to prioritize human lives based on people’s merit? At what point do we stop demonizing eugenics due to the Holocaust of World War II and instead look at it as a viable possibility for improving the human race and reducing our impact on the planet?

            I encourage feedback to every blog entry, but this particular entry is one on which I very much wish to see dialogue sparked. I would especially like to see what some thoughts are as far as the question regarding architectural development, as that is the question posed that sparked this entry and all the questions I’ve presented herein.

A Letter to A Self-Victimizing Braggart

Dear AJ,

                There are many things you said while under my roof that will never be forgotten, and others that may never be forgiven. Before your behavior took a nosedive, you were happy-go-lucky and social. You didn’t have a problem with any of us… but you couldn’t stop talking about your dick.

                Every woman knows that a man who never shuts up about his penis clearly doesn’t know how to use it and this was finally confirmed about you today, when my friend, who used to also be your friend, admitted to me that she slept with you once… and you lasted all of 30 seconds, tops. You useless, pathetic fuck. When you’re in a good mood, you sit around and brag about this and that—how you can last hours in bed (where are the hours? You couldn’t last a whole minute), how you learned all of these martial arts and you can kick anyone’s ass, how you’re a master swordsman… Oh, and then I find out you’ve tried telling some chick you have a fucking degree in psychology when you’ve never taken college courses to earn any kind of credit. Then, when I put you on blast, you tried to defend your lies by saying, “Oh, I never said it was a legit degree.” You are fucking stupid.

                You deserve to be put on blast for every lie you tell and every shitty thing you’ve done. So, I’ll put you on blast, here.

                Boy, let me tell you, it made me euphoric as hell to watch you approach every friend I introduced you to—and then approach a friend I didn’t introduce you to—and try to slander me to the people with whom I surround myself. Do you honestly think I’d have introduced you to two-faced bitches? Do you think that just because I let you into my home, I make it a habit of forming relationships with psychic vampires or people who will turn on me at the drop of a hat—or the unwelcome knock on their door as you beg them to let you move into their home?

                Oh, yeah, bitch, Dusty told me what you did. You slunk your pathetic, lying, two-faced little ass over to my neighbor Dusty’s house, across the street from my house, and you proceeded to say bad things to him about Randy and me, even though he had told you previously that Randy and I are his friends and he didn’t want to hear you fucking slandering us. He also told us that even if you weren’t a steaming pile of bird shit, he would never have let you move in because he likes to walk around the house naked and you would have ruined that for him. That was amusing, but not as heartwarming as knowing for a fact that you will never turn any of my friends against me. My friends are loyal. That’s why they’re my friends.

                Now, I’ve started school and I’m waiting for February to roll around so I can see those nice, fat housing checks appear in my account each month, while you bum around on the streets, hooking up to library WiFi, continuously spewing your lackluster sob story to whatever poor sap takes two minutes to pay attention to your sorry ass.

                I don’t believe in holding grudges, but nor do I believe in forgetting how someone has treated me and you, dumbass, have treated me exceptionally poorly. You were fucking lucky that Randy wanted to play nice with you because I would have had you out of my home the minute you started throwing your belongings down my stairs. That’s right, bitch. You may have been staying in the upstairs space in my home, but that space is still mine. The house is still mine. I am the lease holder, along with Randy, and it is only Randy’s name on the lease that allowed him to have any say in how long you were allowed under my roof, you sorry sack of unapologetic sewage.

                Your mother tried defending you. I’m not sure if you saw it since you blocked Pat and probably can’t see his status anymore. She came along trying to claim that I let you and Pat move in so I’d have a couple of fresh dicks to ride on. What a fucking joke. I messaged her promptly to correct her on that point and even managed to have a decent back-and-forth with her for a few messages, despite her horrendous grammar and spelling. Where did she learn English? Because that place clearly doesn’t know what the fuck they’re doing. At any rate, your mother may never turn her back on you, since she is your mother, but she isn’t one to make fucking excuses for you, either. I told her all about how you would sit in my house, talking about all of these alleged problems you have, and yet you never once made an effort to go out and get the medication you said you so desperately needed. Not until after you blew up, mocked, and disrespected me in my own home.

                Fuck you. Rot in the streets with hardly your mother to love you as she withers away with her sickness.

(I wish no ill will on his mother. She seems like a perfectly nice person. She is legitimately ill and "AJ" has a habit of making it sound like she's going to die.)

A Friend Without Weed...

It is a new year and it has had an interesting start. One of the housemates I’d recently taken in is no longer with us, while the other remains. Here’s the story…

            My Halloween party was a raging success, in my opinion. An old friend with whom I’d scarcely even conversed in our six years of friendship, Pat, showed up to the party and brought two friends, AJ and Curt. Pat and AJ were staying with Curt; Curt was the driver. I had other guests, as well: My best friend Jessica, recently separated from the Air Force; my friend Joanne from high school, recently out of the Army, with her husband and son; my friend Rose, with her daughter and sister; my mom, brother, nephew, and two little boys my mom occasionally cares for… Overall, I definitely had a full and happy house for the party and I feel good for throwing it.

            When Thanksgiving rolled around, I received a message from Pat indicating that he wanted to talk about something. He insinuated that it was important but that he didn’t want to stress me out, so I wasn’t obligated to respond immediately. Immediately curious, though, of course, I had to ask what was up, and so Pat told me that he and AJ were being kicked out of Curt’s place by Black Friday when they’d thought they’d have longer to find a new place to go. He wanted to know if he and AJ could stay with Randy, Persephone, and me. Remembering their demeanour during my party and taking Pat’s word for AJ’s character, I acquiesced easily. I enjoy having people in my home, helping them move forward and get back on their feet. This looked like my next opportunity to do so.

            So, on Black Friday, Curt drove AJ and Pat to my house with the vast majority of their belongings, and they essentially moved into my upstairs art room. It started out great. AJ and Pat were both really cool, really chill guys. We would smoke throughout the day and retain the buzz we’d get and it would be wonderful. Then, Randy started helping AJ out quite a bit, because AJ was more eager to accept the help offered than Pat. Pat would rather work for himself to get what he needs. Already, I saw this difference in character and knew that it could cause problems if AJ, who I knew had been addicted to methamphetamines, were to act like the typical tweaker.

            Well, much to my chagrin, and the chagrin of Pat as well as Randy, AJ did act like the typical tweaker. He started out grateful—ever so grateful, graciously thanking us for everything, from the meals we’d feed him to washing his laundry to taking him somewhere to get something he needed. He was thanking us left and right. Then, he started thanking us less, substituting “Thank you,” for, “I really appreciate everything you’re doing for me. I’m just so not used to it…” I wanted to ignore his behaviour and write it off as holiday blues or a seasonal issue. I spoke with him frequently, took him away from Pat with increasing frequency because he showed so much envy toward his friend. I gave him advice and gave him activities to do to keep himself in a positive mood, as well as what to do if he couldn’t get his mood to lighten.

            Christmas started to roll around. On the 23^rd, Pat invited his friend Mr Hat to hang out and Mr Hat paid for us to go to laser tag. After the first game, AJ acted like a little bitch and stormed away, saying he wasn’t going to play anymore because he wasn’t having any fun because he didn’t score as many points as he wanted to. Mr Hat had already paid for AJ to play 3 games and there was no one in the place other than those currently working there who could have taken his place on our team for the games AJ said he didn’t want to play. As it turned out, Mr Hat was okay with cutting his losses on the money spent on AJ’s ungrateful ass; we played one more game with him and he only joined us because we went against a team of equal numbers as ours. He still didn’t have any fun and thus didn’t join us for the third game, which advantageously put us with even numbers and we split into veterans against civilians and had a blast. Later that night, I broke out some magic mushrooms I’d bought from a friend. I thought AJ may have managed to get into a more positive head space since the laser tag, and if not, perhaps the mushrooms would help. I was mistaken.

            At first, as the mushrooms kicked in, AJ got into a really great mood. He let off great vibes that were really positive and I had hope. Then, suddenly, after we’d moved upstairs and were kind of waiting for the shrooms to really take effect, AJ suddenly got up and left the room in a huff, as if he were angry. He entered not long afterwards and filled the room with the vilest, most violent, most vitriolic vibes one could imagine coming from a person. It was horrendous. It made my heart sick. It made me want him out of my home because I didn’t want that kind of energy permeating the environment in which I am raising my child. He left the room shortly and I felt relief, which I expressed to Pat, who asserted that he felt the same way. It was a long night, during which Pat and I essentially took turns babysitting AJ during his tumultuous trip. It was not nearly as pleasant as it could have been—my own high was absolutely magnificent; Pat’s high was great as well; only AJ had the problems, but his problems extended onto Pat and me. I wish I could have just sat back and enjoyed my trip like the stereotypical hippie I represent when I eat shrooms.

Randy and I took Persephone to my grandparents’ house in Roy for Christmas Dinner on Christmas Eve; she opened all her presents from my dad’s side of the family. We went home that night. AJ had recently received a great many presents from his grandparents, who were quite nice people and got on with me rather well. He had a large bag full of nice socks, a new pair of shoes, and a nice button-down shirt, as well as a new pair of jeans. He acted as grateful as could be when he opened the gifts, but soon it was as though he’d never received them and had absolutely nothing.

Pat and I couldn’t smoke with AJ without feeling him harsh the vibe. Even when AJ thought he was chill, he was far from it. His chill factor didn’t exist. It had, at first, existed, but it had evaporated like water under the springtime sun the longer he stayed with us. I took Pat’s sister, Nick, with me to Walmart so I could spend the $50 gift card my mother got me for Christmas. I got a handful of colouring books, gel pens, colour markers, and a 100-pack of Crayola coloured pencils (they turned out to be a rip-off; nearly half the colours have twins, so there aren’t even 100 different colours). AJ wanted to use the gel pens, which I was generously allowing Nick to use with me while we coloured. I declined him permission to use anything other than my old coloured pencils that reside within old pencil boxes that are in immaculate shape, as are the pencils themselves. He wasn’t happy with that. He was ungrateful to use only the pencils; he wanted full access like Nick had, even though, as Gizmo himself pointed out, I wouldn’t even have let my best friend use the pencils I’d offered AJ until I’d bought those new colours.

I pondered for a while. Finally, before Nick and Mr Hat went home after the new year weekend, I approached AJ in the living room, which had been designated his space since no one was using it and he needed to be by himself for a while because no one wanted to be around him. I sat down and talked to him and let him know that he needed to get his attitude and behaviour straightened out that day, or he would be put out. If he could get his attitude and behaviour under control, then I would give him until the first of February to find a job and have a start date, to have everything lined up for school including having applied for and been accepted and thus have a starting class date, or both. He wanted to know why I was giving him a push but not Pat. I told him that Pat was proving that he was doing what he wanted to do to make money, and Pat was grateful for everything, while AJ really needed to get something going for himself as soon as possible or else I didn’t think his behaviour would get better. I forgot to mention it at the time, but I also wanted to tell him that I would no longer be supplying him any weed, due to what my dad told me about it not helping him get over his addiction or his addict mind-set.

After Nick and Mr Hat had gone home, I took Pat into my study to smoke a bowl because I didn’t want AJ walking in on us while we smoked and I knew he would if we were to do it upstairs. I wanted to have a peaceful smoke session without the guy there to harsh it. Randy came in while we were smoking and said that AJ had asked if we were smoking because he felt left out and alienated. I told Randy I’d talk to AJ later that night or the next day, but that I’d forgotten to mention that I wouldn’t be smoking with him anymore when I’d spoken to him in the living room. Randy left the study and, unbeknownst to Pat or I, told AJ that Pat and I had something to tell him later that night or the next day. AJ proceeded to come to the study, tell us Randy had sent him to us with words of how Pat and I had something to talk to him about. So, I had him sit down, thinking that Randy had sent him and that I was getting pushed into something at the wrong time and knowing that it would blow up badly—all the while, hoping it wouldn’t…

I didn’t even finish my first sentence when AJ tried to cut me off. Pat wouldn’t let him. AJ stormed out of the room. It went a little like this:

I began along the lines of, “So, I talked to my dad, and he said that for you to be doing any mind-altering substances, it isn’t good for your recovery as an addict and I feel like I’m not helping you by supplying you with weed—”

AJ interjected: “So, I’m going to stop you right there,” and Pat stopped him with, “No, you’re not. She wasn’t even halfway through her sentence and you cut her off.”

I sat quietly. The interaction between AJ and Pat was brief.

AJ: “If I can’t smoke here, I won’t stay.”

Pat: “That’s on you. Seriously, dude, this was my last ditch effort to help you. I’m done!”

AJ: “Good. I’m done, too!”

With that, both of them left my study. I followed because I heard the sounds of AJ throwing his belongings around the room upstairs as well as throwing them down the stairs as he prepared to leave. I let it happen. Where he ended up from here was his responsibility, not mine. I had done everything in my power to help him and he hadn’t actually taken any of my advice. He hadn’t listened to me at all. Pat and I came back to my study to finish smoking the bowl we’d started in my Rasta-coloured elephant pipe. Then, I heard AJ’s voice directed at Randy and I knew that Persephone was on Randy’s lap. AJ did not sound calm or collected; he did not sound in any way the way that one should sound when speaking to another. I certainly didn’t want my daughter near it, so I mentioned to Pat what was going on and we agreed to kill the elephant upstairs. I took Persephone with me when I went and closed the door to get her away from the negativity. I knew it wouldn’t last, but the conversation between Randy and AJ did.

Soon after I’d taken Persephone upstairs, I heard AJ blatantly mocking me to Randy, disrespecting me to his face, and I went downstairs to confront him, ready with the words on my lips to tell him that he had exactly two minutes to get the fuck out of my house with all his shit or I’d call the police. Randy stopped me, cut me off, and sent me back upstairs so he could try and play nice with AJ, although at that point I was 1000% done with the guy and I wanted him out of my house as soon as possible.

He stayed that night, went out the next day and caught the bus to wherever and bought a gram of weed. He brought the weed home and said it was an olive branch, a peace offering. He had made no apologies to me. He had made no amends. I wanted nothing to do with the plant he’d brought back, as though he hadn’t heard me at all when I’d said I wouldn’t smoke with him anymore. He stayed that night, too, but he was gone the next morning. Tuesday, January 3^rd, I was rid of AJ and it was as though a rainbow shone on my house the day he left. It was glorious.

I’m glad Pat stayed around. I’m happy to help him and he’s happy to have help. He is grateful for all that he has and all that he is given and it is extremely refreshing.