The Lies We Tell To Just Get Out of Bed Every Morning

The Lies We Tell To Just Get Out of Bed Every Morning

"If only [this thing] were true, my life would be so much better."

Man, are we all full of shit.

Setting up expectations and promissory notes of happiness or fulfillment or peace is natural but we, the Essential Human, fuck it up every single time.

"If only I had more time, I'd get that novel written or that language learned or that Thing I'm Holding Up as My Big Dream of Accomplishment accomplished." Lies.

"If I had a car, or a partner, or a gym membership, or an Apple Watch I'd be so much happier."  Horseshit.

The fact is that, subjectively, the grass is always greener on the other side because we slather the other side with the manure of our unending set of self delusions. Suffering comes from wanting things: comfort, more stuff, love, freedom from pain, justice. Want fewer things (or at least prioritize them better) and there will be less suffering and, consequently, less whining about how unhappy you are.

"If I only had more time..."

What a load. If you want to do it, you do it. If you don't care enough to do it, you procrastinate and blame it on having no time.

"If I do or say this thing I'm about to say or do, people will care."

If you mean "three people will care" you're probably correct. If you mean "people" — as in a lot more than three — will care, you're living in a Fantasy World. Most people don't even know you exist much less give two shits what you do or say. That can either depress you or elate you. Depends on what motivates your day. If you truly care about what "most people" do or say, then I suppose it's really important to you what "most people" think of you. Truth is, most people don't.

"I'm just different from everyone else."

Bullshit. I mean, really. Bull. Shit. 

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"The world is coming to an end because..."

C'mon. The doomsayer profile goes back to the beginning of time. The first caveman who discovered the ability to start a fire was treated like a demon. His brother, the guy who figured out the use of the wheel, was stoned to death. With every new advance in our march toward whatever Endgame approaches, there's always some who want to pretend they have the inside skinny on the apocalypse. "Gay Marriage will destroy..." "Obamacare is the signal of the end..." "Social media marks the destruction of our brains..."

What a basketfull of horseshit fries with a side of dipping sauce. The Modern Day Cassandras do not have media exposure so they're preaching an accurate "The End is Nigh" prediction but no one is listening (kind of the point of being a Cassandra, after all...).

"I'm too fat, too skinny, too ugly for anyone to have sex with me..."

Wrong again, liar. Perhaps you are too fat, too skinny, too ugly for someone who looks like Scarlett Johansson to consider the sweaty love act with you but there's always someone who thinks they are too fat, too skinny, too ugly, too socially awkward, too disease-riddled, too addicted, too criminal. Change your standards of what is an acceptable bone-buddy and the Kuma Sutra is calling your name.

I NEEEEEEEED that.

No. No, you don't neeeeeed that. Most likely you WAAAAAANT that. Not the same thing, bucko. If you can physically and emotionally survive in the world without it, you can wait until you save up for it in order to have your high expectations shattered.

"I have things under control."

No, you don't. Every day of our lives is a giant guessing game, a constant set of random failures and victories that, like those self-made millionaires who want to take the credit for their success, allow each of us about as much control as our ability to predict lottery numbers.

It's OK, though. It's not like anyone around you is doing this thing any better.

Callout THIS Culture: Femme Fatales, Don't Unite.

Callout THIS Culture: Femme Fatales, Don't Unite.

What’s Your Obsession With That Word, Whitey?

What’s Your Obsession With That Word, Whitey?