Crazy Sarcastic Rant

Why won't they heat my office? It's cold in here, at least as cold as it is outside, hovering in the low 50s. Thanks, bureaucratic powers-that-be, for an office where it is possible to shiver in a down jacket and a scratchy scarf wrapped several times around the neck. My feet are cold through my shoes; as for my hands, I have to take breaks from typing every few minutes to sit on them lest I get the hypothermy.


Since I am currently in the business of insincerely thanking faceless entities, I thank "fate," "Them," "the Man," etc, for this job I need in order to pay the bills, and for a few reasons besides; and which, I am fake-happy to report, I believe has actively made me dumber, gutted my formerly active imagination, and turned me into a crap writer. And thank you, job, for recently requiring my attentions during my already meager "free" time, which ought to be spent learning calculus.


Thanks, genes + environment = predetermination, or whatever you are, for my being somebody who cannot stomach risk, whose mind goes blank in the company of conspecifics, someone avoidant almost to the point of total crazy.


Thanks, whatever-you-are, for my few friends. I had dinner with Annika, her mom, and her stepdad yesterday. It was the first time we'd seen each other since her wedding last year. She would hardly eat because her husband wouldn't be "proud" of her if she did. His name is Tyler, and I've known him for years, but she insisted on calling him "my husband," ad nauseam. Unsolicited, she talked on and on about how she didn't need friends, didn't I understand? She needed only her husband, his family, and his friends. She exists only in his [enlightened] penumbra and is perfectly happy about it, so what sort of bigot wouldn't respect this? I was her only friend, the only one, whom she had invited to her wedding. She brought this up, with no provocation, no bridge. The rest of them were simply not worth her time.

It sounded like pre-emptive defensiveness. A part of me wanted to suggest that maybe her ex-friends were "flaky" because she had already made clear to them that they were extraneous. But that part of me never learned to talk, so I kept quiet. M. would call me a traitor for doing so, and maybe I am.

So thank you, frontal lobe, for enabling my treason. And thanks, Femininity Imperative, genes + upbringing, or whatever-you-may-be, for convincing one of my last remaining friends that she ought to function as her husband's appendage.


Why stop at thanking abstractions? Thank you, M., for [censored] and [censored] and [censored] and [censored].

(And thank Google for making this censorship necessary.)

I won't limit this rant to petty, personal complaints, so let us not forget to thank the world for things like this and this and this and, well, you get the idea.

You're welcome for all the negativity. I think the cold is freezing my brain.