I hate this time of the year. I’m not a Christian, not that many who celebrate these holidays are, particularly where I live. But it’s that whole “cheer” and the push to get together with your loved ones that makes me dread these days whenever they approach.
I have been programming at work for the last two or three weeks, which has resulted in the chillest period of work at that office, with generally minimal human contact. I’m a man of routine: for my break, I head to the cafeteria, buy a sandwich, and sit down to read either manga or whatever book I’m going through at the moment. Recently, the cashier woman, someone maybe in her late twenties, has made comments about the food I’ve chosen. Last week she questioned me having picked a donut, and today, when I showed up with two eggs and potatoes, she said something to the effect of, “Oh, you’ve ordered that…?” When I didn’t say anything nor made eye contact, she added, “Okay, you allow it to yourself today.” Lady, can you just shut the fuck up and push the button that allows me to insert my money into a machine? Do people find such comments endearing?
My brain has been doing things to me lately when it comes to the past. The first word that came to mind was “torturing.” I have been recalling past girlfriends, girls that I liked but that I failed to get with, and a couple that I got with but fucked it up because I’m crazy. In real life, the presence of other people makes my skin crawl, but this afternoon I felt sad about the fact that I never experienced a proper teenage romance. I mean having an innocent love at fourteen or some shit like that. Back in the nineties, even though I lived in a shitty border town, it was still possible. Of course, I remembered my recent story about a motocross girl; plenty of my memories and general nostalgia were poured into it. I never had my own Izar, unless you count my subconscious, that I could usually rely on to keep me alive. I was the weird-looking kid, even weirder behaving; when some brazen girls cat-called our group, they made a point of excluding me. It usually took one look for others to tell that I was likely retarded. Which I am, to be fair. Anyway, I have a cold ache in my chest right now, and I’m thinking of how cool it would be to be dead. With a few hours of sleep, it will probably pass. Maybe it’ll take a couple of days more. These things come and go.
Man, I feel fucking old. Old and done. I’m reading a book on artificial intelligence, solely because my father grabbed it at the library; he thought I may find it interesting. When I think about reading other non-fiction books, I can’t think of anything that I would be interested in learning right now. I feel so little attachment to this world and to people that I don’t see a point in learning anything about any of it. Society is so clearly heading to ruin that the most one could learn is how to protect himself from the consequences, but I can’t be arsed to do anything about it either. I’m just tired in general.
Have you fantasized about having a way of listing all the people you knew in your youth, with whom you’ve lost touch, to learn what happened to them? It pains me that I will never find out if a couple of them in particular died prematurely. Most people amaze me with the stuff they recall; my family members were mentioning casually how much each sibling weighed when we were born, information that never registered in my brain. I remember so absurdly little of my past that it may as well have not happened. Do people actually recall complex moments of the relationships they’ve been involved with, never mind actual conversations? I don’t recall anything beyond a few mental photographs. It’s like I’m stuck in the perpetual present. It wouldn’t surprise me if it’s mainly due to how my neurological makeup works. Regarding my brain, I’ve also been scheduled for an MRI in a couple of weeks, so I’ll find out if parts of my brain are dead after the possible mini stroke I suffered. And if that hasn’t actually happened, I have no way of justifying my mental decline of these past three years or so.
Anyway, that’s all, I guess.
The Domains of the Emperor Owl 
Count yourself blessed if you live mostly in the now. I work hard daily to achieve that. As do many on the spiritual path. The now is all that actually exists but most of us squander it reliving the past or anticipating the future.
I have a horrific memory. Horrific in that I never forget. I can recall exact conversations from decades ago. It’s maddening.
LikeLike
I see how remembering very little would be beneficial from your perspective. I’ve had plenty of bad memories that if I remembered them clearly, it would difficult my day-to-day significantly. On the other hand, pursuing new and/or complicated experiences, or meeting people even, feels often like a waste of time and resources when afterwards I’m lucky if I can recall a few faded still images of that whole thing. My prosopagnosia (inability to properly process and retain faces) adds to it; I’ve been in intimate relationships with girls I wasn’t able to recognize afterwards. It all feels unreal and generally depressing.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Seems we are opposite ends of the memory spectrum. There is so much past trauma in my life that I would give anything to forget.
Have you ever read The Power of Now by Eckhart Tolle? I have been sleeping to the audiobook for 18 months now.
LikeLike
I haven’t read that book, although from what I’ve gleaned of it, it seems like a way of attaining in general my regular existence when it comes to memory.
Added to the downsides I’ve mentioned before, I have to take notes of everything at work, because I will forget important points from one day to another. I also consume fiction for the in-the-moment enjoyment, because I tend to forget the stories almost in their entirety shortly after (although some fiction leaves lingering emotional echoes). There’s a pervasive sense that long-term planning or complex experiences are a waste of time, as I remember very little. I also used to have serious trouble building up relationships of any kind, as there wasn’t a proper sense of progression. When you’re down, real down as autistic people sometimes get, all you see around is pure depression, with no good memory to drag you out of it. It also happens that positive memories don’t seem to get registered in my defective brain, or at least categorized as such.
I’m waiting now to get an MRI done for somewhat unrelated brain problems (possible mini stroke I suffered at work), so they may be able to tell me if something is clearly wrong in my brain at least from whatever shows in the images.
LikeLiked by 1 person