I feel that there are a number of issues that my life needs to hammer out, but has been too busy making sure I exist to deal with them. Therefore, I have taken the liberty of pointing out a few issues that we need to go over, possibly over coffee? I love coffee, but you already know that. I'm going to warn you right now, life; the fonts may be slightly inconsistent. Try to ignore that.
Dear computer,
0x77775j something is not an adequate description of the
thing that is wrong with you. If you’re
looking for help beyond being ignored until you crash please tell me the name
of the program in English and what it does so I can google how to fix it.
Dear Body,
Due to a number of events that can be solely blamed on the
brain, the frequency at which you receive good meals/ meals in general may
diminish. You’re pretty good at adapting
though, right? Until I get things
straight with the boss, you’ll just have to find a way to subsist on coffee and
snacks. Some of those snacks might even
be dried fruit, with real nutritional value!
As far as showering on a regular basis goes, you may be disappointed to
hear that I will continue to have trouble keeping up with the schedule. The same goes for all other forms of hygiene
as well.
Dear Artistic Ability,
Stop fucking leaving me!
If I want to draw something as simple as an oval head, you damn well
better be up to the task! I know I don’t
give you the best accommodations, but all I ask of you is to get off you lazy
ass to help me get the perspective on these hands right!
Dear Passions,
I know your heart is in the right place with you trying to
get excited about things. Just try to
show a bit more self-control. Yes, Dota
2 awesome in spite of the number of times you’ve been told to kill yourself by
other players. Yes, candy is especially
good, but why can’t you get obsessive over more productive matters? Artistic Ability would love to get to know
you past asking you for help to keep me from hating myself. You may be an abstraction, but the shit you
do has endearing consequences in the more concrete areas of existence. Just keep that in mind the next time you
think we need to go bar-hopping.
Dear work,
I’m willing to commend you a bit because you allow the above
resident to indulge in beer and various teeth-melting snacks. However, I don’t think I’m comfortable taking
orders from people with the same look in their eyes as caged animals. If I wanted to look into a glassy veil of
shameful defeat, I’d visit a nursing home.
If I have to tolerate that sort of thing, I expect to be paid more. You should grant me the privilege to draw
faces on all the lemons as well, or have me throw them into a burning building
named “Life”.
Dear dog(s),
You are probably the most ill-equipped out of my recipients
to be receiving letters considering that your thoughts revolve around snacks,
belly rubs, and humping inanimate objects without their consent. Somewhere in that kibble-coated brain of
yours though, you managed to reserve a spot for unconditionally loving the
bi-pedal meat bags that you would totally be capable of eating with the help of
your adorably predatory pals.
Somehow, despite not taking you on all the walks you
deserve, you spend every waking hour expressing your endearing love for me
while simultaneously nudging your nose closer to my half-eaten sandwich. I could do without you trying for my food
every time I put it down to shovel chips in my mouth. Also, I know that you really hate to be
alone, but there are times when I actually don’t want you shoving your face
into my crotch. That is not for nuzzling
anyway. If you knew that we have a
system of parts similar to yours in that area, you would not be sniffing it so
hard.
Another thing you should probably take note of is that spicy
foods work the same way no matter how many times you try them. That goes for all the other things you
shouldn’t eat. Remember that time you
tried to eat a toad? Neurotoxin isn’t
very palatable, is it? You just had to
be certain, so I decided after the twelve time, you would learn that you can’t
eat this thing without feeling awful.
I’m just going to assume that you can’t work out how not to put this
thing in your mouth.
Dear Internet,
In the three years that I’ve had to live you, you have
brought me gifts of videos, comics, blogs, porn, even shopping. Some of these things even occur at the same
time! However, where I once found a
world of innovation has now become the same place over and over again. Don’t get me wrong now, I still love all that
stuff, but now I have to put actual effort into finding new and exciting
things. This must be how oil barons felt
after all the surface oil was gone.
Unlike the oil barons though, I don’t really have time to go digging
through you on my own. When the task is
presented, I just stare blankly at you until I decide to visit tumblr
again. We should probably reassess our
relationship, and here’s what I think.
Since I don’t want to put the effort towards putting words side-by-side
in the search bar to look for new things, I want you to do that for me. It’s an easy enough job for someone who
claims to have all the world’s information.
Now, don’t fret over that, I’m willing to carry my weight too. You present me with your findings, and I’ll
click on them. This way, I can maximize
the amount of time I spend not doing anything while you keep doing the smart
things that you have time for. Time
means nothing to you, really. Therefore
you need to start putting effort into this relationship, otherwise, you can
expect my continued support because I don’t know what I’d do without you.
Dear Coffee,
You
crafty motherfucker! You have got to be
one of the most expensive things I put into my body other than mix drinks at a
night club, but unlike those tasty, fruity, feel-good, confidence boosters I
get at the bar, I come crawling out of my mattress covers to you every
morning! How do you do it? How do you have such a stranglehold on my
life that you can dictate my daily routines just by sitting in a bag? It’s not like I have anyone else to make you
for me. I have to get up, grind you to
the specifications of whatever I’m using to brew you with, and spend half an
hour turning you into drippy black stuff I can consume. You are such a process to make properly, yet
here I am, making another press. You and
I are one in the worst way possible- like a guinea worm inching its way out
into the world. I can’t get rid of you
in any way that’s quick or pain free.
You’re just there. You can leave
any time you want. It’s me who gets
stuck with the consequences. I’m just
going to treat this as a form of Stockholm syndrome, saying to you how much I
love you only because I know how much it hurts when you leave.
Dear Glasses,
I was expecting you to be on top of this, considering that you’re
the only object in my life right now that allows me to see more than a foot in
a given direction, but since you’re reluctant even to show the common courtesy
to lean on my face without slouching, I’m going to have to tell you this
myself. When I come out of the shower,
there are a few things that can ruin my experience; a damp towel, butchering my
face with dull razor blades, and having no clear way to avoid the latter. Number three is almost entirely your
fault. I already know what not seeing
is like. I don’t need a simulation you
put together out of the leftover water vapor from the shower, and when I wipe
away the fog, that is not your queue to get more. I really, really don’t want to bleed out
through my face. Please, just do this
one thing for me. If you do, I can
forgive you for dropping your lenses on the floor at random intervals.
