LOL, the honker unfriended me over a comment I made on a political video he shared. Then I took it a step further and blocked the bastard. Never really liked him anyway. Never seemed to have much in common. I don’t know if he misunderstood my comment or I misunderstood the video, but either way, I don’t give a shit—as long as he doesn’t tangle with me. Whether he likes it or not, I’m from here. He isn’t. I also don’t give a shit if he finds or is aware of this blog since I have pretty much ended up sharing it with a lot of people on Facebook by now.
I heard about five bangs of a hammer and thought, oh, here we go, it’s time to get obnoxious because he doesn’t like me. But then I realized the golf cart was gone, so it was probably coming from Ray’s place. I’m sure he’ll still be obnoxious anyway because that’s what he does regardless, and I can tell he’s not done with his projects. Some days he’s out all day and I don’t even know he exists. Other days he’s puttering about.
Today is Andy’s birthday. He’s 64. We’re both getting old yet have many years left. Well, he may live another 20 or more years, but I don’t expect to live the 25 more years I likely would if I didn’t go when Tom goes. While women tend to make it to their mid-to-late 80s and guys tend to make it to their early-to-mid 80s these days, I’m thinking I’m going sometime in my 70s.
Anyway, although a part of me will always love Andy and miss some aspects of our friendship—and cherish the funny memories we both have—I’m still not open to the stupidity and toxicity that goes with being his friend. I don’t want to be called a liar or an “excuse queen” by someone who should know me better, just because I try to explain something to them that they don’t get or like. I don’t want to have to tell him the same things over and over again because years of marijuana fucked with his brain cells. I don’t want to deal with the false assumptions and false truths. I don’t want to feel like I always have to defend myself and correct him where I’m concerned.
Three times I told him not to tell anybody we moved, yet he did. Damaged brain cells or not, I still see that as a betrayal. It shows I can’t trust him. So yeah, there is a little bit of guilt, but mostly, I feel proud of myself—especially when it comes to Tammy—for refusing to fall for the same old cycle of bullshit yet again. I just wish I’d smartened up two or three cycles ago.
Mean or selfish or not, I hate people in general. I am just so not a people person. Tom, who is more antisocial than me, says he just doesn’t get people and that they’re completely alien to him. I don’t get a lot of people’s shit either. At the same time, I am able to see things from their sometimes-twisted point of view. I value my current friends, but I’m definitely not open to new ones—even if that means, yes, I’m going to die alone no matter how or when I go unless I was surprised with getting something while Tom’s still alive, which I don’t see at this point despite having more health issues than he does.
Not everyone who walks the planet is stupid, evil, phony, dishonest, or selfish, but I think the vast majority of people are. Some forms of selfishness are actually reasonable and even healthy. I’m talking about the ones who are selfish at the expense of others. Hell, there are some people willing to pay to see people tortured and killed on the dark web. It is truly chilling to know that there are some people out there who get off on such sadistic shit. Could be your neighbor, a co-worker, or anyone you think is “normal.”
The only one I really miss—even if they weren’t perfect any more than I am—is Aly. Sometimes I miss Nane, but I’ll never miss anyone as much as I miss Aly. Tom and I were talking the other day, and while he says he doesn’t believe there’s any supreme being involved in our lives, he does think there’s some form of an afterlife but doesn’t know what it is. His reasoning for this is that the conscience and the mind seem to go beyond the scope of the brain, and it’s hard for him to believe that it all comes to an end just because it one day no longer has the chemical process connecting it—sort of like a radio turned off. You don’t hear the music, but the signal is still there.
Maybe we really do change forms somehow. I just hope that if she is out there somewhere continuing on, it’s in a much better way. The question is, where did it all begin? Some people believe that no matter is created or destroyed. I can see it not being destroyed, but it had to have originated somewhere at some point, right?
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