I love livin in the city (Fear)

20 December 2008

 

It has been a while since I have spent time in a city, or a good deal of time.  Boulder is not a city, Boulder is nice, but it’s a large town I think nearly half of its population comes from the college.  When I was living in D.C. I had the girlfriend which changed the shape of my time.

Now living in a proper city and near everything is great.  I like being able to ride everywhere, and the ability to see shows all the time is great.  Also riding through traffic though likely to kill me is a ton of fun. 

The past few weeks I have ended up drinking a few times, which is not a response to city life but just another example of my stupidity.  This could lead to a long debate of the “benefit” of state mandated sobriety, its effectiveness, and really its purpose.  They now actually have ankle bracelets which on top of monitoring your every movement also can tell if there is alcohol in your blood stream, does forcing someone sober work? 

The other day I thought there was a chance I would blow hot.  I was texting a friend who responded in a very logical manner, “Going back to jail is bad… think of Phoenix and Jazmine”.  I would not go back to jail for blowing hot, but my friend got me thinking. 

I started to think I am either too self centered or just stopped giving a crap.  I suppose it goes with the thought process if I died how long until someone figured it out.  If I went back to jail who would really care?  I know someone who would take Jazmine and if I left my door open my apartment would be cleaned out in a few hours so how long until someone noticed? 

I have no intentions of returning to jail, but more debating with myself the point of my existence.  When I was a child I was told the following story, which it could be true, or my parents blowing smoke up my ass. 

Apparently my mother miscarried a few times, all with boys.  When she was pregnant with me she was told she would miscarry once again.  My father took my mother to NH for a little vacation and to help soften the blow a bit.  While walking on the pier my mother tripped, landing on me.  She was really worried and returned to the doctor the following week, and the doctor seemed to think that now there might be a shot I would be alright. 

I always kept this story in the back of my mind thinking maybe there was some purpose to my existence.  The story is cute, until I am now 30 and recognize I have nothing to offer society.  My existence has been more of a strain on the world, and family than any benefit my existence has brought to either.   I suppose I am but one of millions whose day to day existence is trivial, after all we can’t all be a genius and invent the pet rock.  Without the millions there would be no need for the pet rock, and brings us to which came first the chicken or the egg?  Without the silent millions would there be need for the peoples whose existence matter?  

An Afterthought:

When I was on work release I looked into joining the Army again.  Amazingly since I am on probation I am a no-go even while we engage in a pointless cat and mouse game, and enforce a police state elsewhere.  I wanted to join infantry, and everyones obvious response was that I was a moron and would end up in Iraq.  What I never told anyone was that at least dying there would make me feel like I actually served a purpose.  Now how twisted is that? Ha ha

The picture was my natural response to spending 32 hours pushing snow around last winter.