Sigh... If you're a friend of mine, and you're neglecting your life in order to keep up your pot habit, please, stop it.
If you went to San Fransisco and were part of a really cool theatre troop, and suddenly came back to the middle of nowhere and got yourself into a dead-end office job that you whinge about on your livejournal, I no longer have pity. If you went to university, but keep changing your major, and your friends, because, as you whinge on your livejournal, your life is unfulfilled and no one understands you, I no longer have pity.
I had a couple of really smart, talented, bright friends, who were starting to do things with their lives. Currently, they are doing nothing with their lives but whinging about them on their livejournals. For a while I was puzzled- they were smart kids in high school, what happened?
I found out. They're potheads.
Now, let me be clear about why this upsets me. At least a few of my good friends do occasionally engage in illegal recreations. Occasionally would be the difference. They are continuing to live their lives in spite of the fact that sometimes they're up at two am really hankering for some brownies. They're not doing it every chance they get because otherwise they're not going to make it through the day- which is what I'm hearing of people I formerly admired.
I have no admiration for anyone who decided that they didn't need to be contributing members of society, and then also choose to whine about the repercussions of that decision. One or the other, I could probably handle, but not both.
I read Richard Bach's Illusions The Adventures of a Reluctant Messiah again yesterday, for something like the thousandth time since I got it about four years ago. For all of you who haven't read it, I'm sure I've said this before, go out and read it.
This is one of the places that I come into conflict with the book. I know, I know, I know, that we're all here to do whatever we want. So, maybe some people are enjoying being miserable- I know I do sometimes, but I cannot understand what use being miserable all the time is worth to someone.
As Donald Shimoda says, "We are the otters of the universe," life does not have to be miserable. Life is whatever you choose for it to be, why not choose it to be the best? Why sit at home on your Livejournal and enjoy whinging about it? (I bring up LJ so much, because whinging on them seems to be the primary function for most of the people I know.)
I suppose this is one of the things I'm supposed to learn. That's why I'm marrying Nathan, the guy who, in his bouts of depression does believe that the world exists to make him unhappy. As far as this little book is concerned, it makes sense.
"Everything in this book may be wrong."