| (no subject) |
[Mar. 12th, 2009|03:47 pm] |
i've been thinking about that scene, in fight club, where he's on the airplane visualizing, almost sort of fantasizing, that the plane crashes, and he watches the whole thing unfold, totally detached. everyone's freaking out, and he's as peaceful as can be, almost content.
i just survived a car crash, no injuries, nothing. i climb out of the car angry....not celebrating the fact that i'm alive, but fucking livid. the sort of 'i hate the world' attitude. that i live in system where cars are a fundamental tool. i hate cars, i hate driving, i hate the amount of cars on the road, i hate the utter disobedience of the simple rules that are specifically put in place for safety concerns, i hate the ego, i hate that some people define themselves based on their car, i hate the connection some people create between cars and personality or status, i hate that my view around here consists of franchise after franchise, generic primary color vomit, trash in the only remaining grass that exists here, practically lifeless, driving in a whole in the ground surrounded by concrete walls......
or to sum, as the main character in that movie post concussion says,:i hate the whole institution of driving.
and this is of course because i am no longer a teenager with a broke ass van finally feeling freedom. instead now i feel like a fucking prisoner. payments, insurance, expressways, hours wasted, and now finally, as if it were never going to happen, accidents.....what a load of shit and fraud. to feel like driving is, statistically as well, a risk of fatality, and yet it's like we all feel we have to drive or we won't survive. oh, and it's totally accepted. my mom tells me that these things happen. !@#$%^&*!!!!!???? what?! i won't fucking accept it. it isn't normal, not to me. to be driving big metal death boxes. fuck that. there was a time when driving to me really was like freedom. but i follow all the rules, take caution, and i still got fucked by some fucking idiot. i can't control for that. and i'm fucking pisssssed.
back to the fight club scene....you'd think i would take this accident as a learning experience, think about death, that i'm actually ok, and to perhaps appreciate that, and finally decide to live a fulfilling life in any way that i can and to skip jovially with a new found respect for life.
nope.
is it morbid to admit that maybe now that i flash back to the incident, that i wish something more life threatening happened to me? ha! i'm actually admitting this, what the fuck. sorta like...waiting for tragedy. or hoping whatever.
fight club again--it's when you lose everything that you're free to do anything.
i'm trying to figure this out. i already know how i feel...and how i didn't feel, and it sorta freaks me out.
maybe i want to be in a situation where i have permission not to give a shit anymore.
i wonder if this is a problem, or what i've been waiting for.
it's probably a problem that it's something i wait for. |
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