I’ve been in a godawful mood for awhile now. So I’ve been staying away from blogging because I usually post a bunch of melodramatic crap that noone wants to read, the kind of stuff that embarrasses me when I look back from down the road a bit.
So I’ll post it anyway. Fuck myself.
Something got screwed up in my wiring. I can actually feel my brain fighting itself. The reptile brain at the bottom just wants to drive fast and beat things senseless, screw everyone else and the consequences. The conscious layers on top are always processing in overdrive, beating back reptilian impulses with arguments of morality and social order. An hour’s commute and I’m overclocked and overheating and I can’t escape. I need a vacation, not from work but from myself. And I haven’t even gotten to work yet.
It’s no wonder I have an autistic child. I gave him those genes. At some deep root level I knew from the beginning that any child of mine would have these problems. But I ignored the instinctive knowledge. It’s simply too horrific to face.
And so I emerge from the hourlong commute at the end of the day, only it’s not the end, it’s just the beginning of the next stage, the one where the four-year-old autistic child is overclocked and overburdened and overwhelmed, imprisoned within layers of faulty evolution, frontal lobe and neocortex struggling to regulate the reptile with fractured rules of consciousness. And I realize that he is a 4-year-old 9-month-old, and I wonder if at 20 years will he be a 20-year-old 2-year-old? With my patience void and the reptile creeping out, I wonder how anyone could survive this, and ultimately what is the point of everything?
He is broken, as am I. God fucked up.
It is one thing to rationalize this as a burden placed upon my family, some sort of character test designed by the universe. We must be strong people if the universe gave us this challenge. But the argument is flawed. Underneath it all is a little boy who has no choice, who lives the majority of his life in utter frustration and rage. He is so angry, and with good reason. The universe gave him a broken brain. God gave it to him. Made in God’s image, indeed.
And so we have freewill, that explains everything, right? That humans should suffer at the capricious whim of circumstance is simply proof that we possess the gift of freewill, for the ability to choose allows us to rise above circumstance. God simply set the universe in motion, and what took over is cruel indeed, cancer and illness and psychopathy and asshole drivers and amyotrophic lateral sclerosis. Need I mention George Bush?
The casual observer may conclude that within all this drivel is a cry for help or maybe an individual who is on the verge of breaking, of “going postal.” Not to worry, I don’t work with the postal service. I’m just in one of my moods.