In a little bit of Time

Things are a bit better this week. The weather is finally co-operating. It's neither too hot nor too cold, but perhaps just a little too bright. I got some good pictures yesterday when a gentleman informed the paper that he had an apricot tree in bloom. Apricot trees are rare in Canada, and not only was his blooming, but it was already targetted by a swarm of bees. It's very likely that there will be fruit on it this year, provided no killing frosts come.

Thoughts of the week are a little less optimistic though. How are people to get anywhere with their lines of thinking? How can one try and handle another when they cannot handle themselves?
Drama Drama Drama.
Which seems to be the catchword of the spring. Being that I'm the Last Single Man in the Known Universe*, it's observation that shows me that many happy couples are anything but. As I've said numerous times before, anyone in a relationship is liable to become a fool. It's easy to behave in one's own capacity, but add another to the mix and it suddenly becomes a ritual dance of telepathy, mistaken intentions, appeasements, and bargains. Even the most altruistic man or woman becomes selfish in a relationship.

I don't know how many times I was told as I was growing up to just "be myself," and everything else will just fall into place. But the reality is this: nobody really wants me to be myself. To date someone, I have to become something they want. I have to be marketable.

I say, eat shit. I'm not putting on my "game," to pick somebody up. I'm not into ruses or make believe. I want to be able to sit around and chat with somebody as I always do, and not have to worry about saying the wrong thing, or looking good, or whatever the fuck it is that women want these days. Quite frankly, I'm well aware of my shopping-list of things that would make me a non-candidate, but all it would take is a little backbone to deal with that.

And it's at this point, I drop in the one-liner: They say future humankind will be jellyfish-like.

Yeah, no shit. We'll be so incapable with dealing with a challenge that just getting out of bed in the morning will be an effort on par with the invasion of Normandy. Nobody wants to work to get anything anymore. They just want destiny served to them on a silver platter.

Well, I've smelled destiny, and it smells a lot like shit.

*This is sarcasm, of course. As is most of this post, for those who'd rather get their pants in a bunch, post a long, screaming rant, and then realize three days later, oh, he's joking.