My Quiet Life of Desperation

Sometimes I question whether I’m missing some piece of mental machinery every human is supposed to have.  Some essential brain cog of empathy or social deftness that would enable me to understand other people’s actions, or more importantly, my own.

 

It’s like this.  I’m confronted with a situation any ordinary person would see as easy to deal with and my mind runs a million miles a minute trying to put the pieces of this great social puzzle together in order to come up with the appropriate response.  My heart’s tearing me one way, telling me to run, run as fast I can, and my mind’s gently coaxing me in the opposite direction saying I should stay and fight the panic.

 

“We can do this,” my brain whispers.  “It’s just a couple variables plugged into some great social algorithm we have yet to discover.  Just crack the code, crack the code…”

 

I want to choose to fight, but more often than not it’s flight that I choose after a couple of feeble jabs.

 

It’s not that I’m some big social pariah or even that one could tell I’m having a hard time dealing with the occasional social situation, but it’s clear as day to me of course.  I’ll feel like I’m in an episode of Spongebob Squarepants where the driver’s ed. teacher, Mrs. Puff, tries to teach Spongebob to drive through a simple obstacle course.  There’s always someone in my brain screaming “Floor it! FLOOR it!”  

 

It’s frustrating.

 

Luckily my socio-emotional car wrecks don’t end in any physical casualties that heal by the very next t.v. episode.  But I still have to deal with emotional wreckage.

 

No.

I’m being dramatic. 

 

Wreckage is too strong a word for it.  It’s not as if I slap people and insult their mothers every time I feel socially gangly and awkward. 

 

I might just give a one word response to an essay-like question or offer a cold one-handed wave rather than a warm two-armed hug.  Just little things.  But these little things can make a big difference when it comes to relationships, and I feel at a loss when I have to deal with the after-effects with no sane explanation for my actions.

 

I mean, what do I say?

 

“Sorry, I was having a mini-emotional breakdown, but I’m better now.  We still good?”

 

Maybe I’m still just being dramatic and even the average ‘Normal Guy’ has these breaks in reason, but I wouldn’t know.  I’ve never considered myself “normal.” 

 

~LDA

Jesse McCartney Was Wrong: Ugly Soul

 

People are so imperfect.  

No matter how much faith you put in them, they always seem to let you down, at least at one time or another.

 

I know.  I must sound like I’ve just gone through some terrible betrayal recently or something.  That’s not the case.  Quite the opposite actually.  I keep self-reflecting on how unreliable I, myself am at my core.

 

Well, I guess in a way I have gone through a betrayal, a self betrayal.

 

I expect others to depend on me because ‘reliable’ is a characteristic I’ve come to identify myself with, but in reality I let myself down so often that it’s a ludicrous request.  Almost like I’m setting them up for failure out of some egocentric desire to prove that I can be sure of myself at the risk of others.

 

There’s that saying that friends come and go, but family never fails, but I think that’s an exaggeration.  Even the most devoted of mothers fails her child in numerous ways throughout their life.  That’s why people love to point to their messed-up childhood, no matter how perfect, and find excuses for why they are the way they are.

 

It’s so much easier to look outward for the cause of our imperfections, to point the chocolate smeared finger in another’s direction, all the while hiding the cookie jar behind our backs. 

 

Humans are so flawed that they have given up looking inside themselves and trying to rectify what’s wrong.  Our ugly souls are too scary to look at so we give up altogether.

 

A lot of people like to point to this as a main cause of religion.  They say that we have allowed ourselves to become so weak that we like to turn to some Santa-faced deity to fix our problems for us.

 

God is a crutch, they say. 

We don’t need him and he is therefore dead, they say. 

 

But I wonder if the people who say that have ever wondered whether or not we turn to someone else because we’re not only weak, but right.  Maybe we are too messed up to fix ourselves.  Maybe we do need someone else.  And maybe that cloud gazing instinct is a result of some programmed default feature that is triggered when we have finally exhausted our energy and options.

 

People are so imperfect. 

 

Wouldn’t it be nice if there was some big, fluffy Papa in the sky to swipe away tears and reset our central processing units?  Would it really be so wrong to rely on someone who was actually reliable?  I know, I know.  There’s suffering in the world.  How can anyone view that as reliable?

 

I think an important question people forget to ask concerning the problem of suffering is who’s causing the suffering?

 

Is there a God wreaking havoc while he points and laughs?  Is there a God sitting on his divine keister, watching us like television?  Or maybe there’s a God reaching out to us in non-material ways that are so unanticipated we neglect to even acknowledge them.

 

Maybe he’s busy trying to help us fix our ugly souls. 

 

~LDA

I Like You Already… -~- Welcome, Fellow Derp

If you’ve ever had one of those moments where you realized you’d done something so stupid that you just had to laugh at yourself, you’re in the right place.

You know…

One of those moments where you had to facepalm yourself just hard enough to verify that there was actually a brain rattling around in that skull of yours.

Or maybe just one of those moments where you felt like you had something interesting to add to this conversation we call life, but were too afraid to share for fear it wouldn’t come out the way you wanted.

If you’ve at all found yourself feeling like any of the above, I think this is just the little corner of cyberspace for you.

Why did I name this blog derp2derp?

Well, in order for me to answer that question I should probably clarify the meaning of the word derp, JUST in case some of you reading this don’t already know it.

  Sooo…

What does the word derp mean? 

Here’s a couple definitions:

Courtesy of Urban Dictionary:

derpy-awkward or embarrassing, especially pertaining to a person:

“Man, that guy is so awkward!”
“Yeah, he’s really derpy.”

Courtesy of Myself

herp derp (or simply derp)-a person who is doing or has done something unusually dopey and/or laughable:

“Ouch! I just walked into the sliding door because I thought it was open.”

“Hahaha.  You’re such a herp derp.”

(the terms “herp derp” and “herpaderp” have also been known to be used in rage comics in order to substitute dialogue)

SO, WHY THE NAME derp2derp?

If we’re honest with ourselves, we all know that we have moments that bring out our inner derp and this blog is a way for me to share some of those moments with you.  I find that my inner derp surfaces quite a lot (probably more than I’d like) and I figured if I’m going to be plagued with the disease of herpaderpitis, I might as well do something productive with it.  From walking into glass screen doors to everyday ruminations about the value of life, I’d like to give you a chance to both laugh at my silly everyday mistakes and hopefully, share some of your own derpy stories in return.  I’d also like to share my thoughts on various matters and hear what you guys think yourselves.  It doesn’t matter if you think my thoughts are off the wall bogus or genuinely interesting.  I’d like to turn this into a space where everyone is free to share their thoughts.  I’d like to hear from you.

Life’s too short to waste time being embarrassed by failure.

Why wince at failure when you can laugh?

Let’s derp it up.

~LDA