//when i was a kid, i used to be obsessed with typefaces and publications like books, newspapers, and magazines. i used to copy books or articles that i had on paper onto a word document on the home pc, and then i would edit the text to look how i liked it. there was absolutely no motivation behind it besides that i felt like doing it. it was pure, that is the same type of feeling i have for writing now. i couldn't care less if no one ever reads anything i have to say, it's not why i'm writing it. i guess this is a sort of therapy, except it actually produces something that i or someone can look back on, rather than paying a guy to pretend to listen to your problems because no one else would do it for you.
anyway, i said when i was a kid i was obsessed with these publications, for some reason a bunch of words on a page was always a really satisfying sight to me, whether it was paper or digital, although, paper is much better. does God decide what we become obsessed with as children? because where else does it come from, chance? i don't know many people who've been alive for very long who still believe in pure chance. everything most certainly happens for a reason. do we get put through tribulations as a way of molding us for future events? but what about a soldier in war who dies within the first couple of days? was he just a pawn in the chess game of life? would God be so cruel? i think it's possible that for people like that, they are repaying some sort of debt they owe to God, something that only the two of them know about. not to say that everyone who dies quickly and through unfortunate circumstance was some sort of secret evil psycho, but it is something to think about.
i adopted a cat about 8 days ago, she's on my lap as i write this. she's a little less than a year old, and she seems to still be growing. she is an absolute psycho but also a sweetheart at the same time. she is my first cat and she is teaching me all about the feline family. they are absolutely cool as hell. i've always wanted one, and i'm pissed at myself for waiting this long. they're the shit. if you've ben thinking about getting yourself a cat, do it. you will be so pleasantly surprised.
last night, my father's brother died, and today i spent most of the day helping a very ungrateful friend. i hate being a people pleaser, man. especially when you have a friend that can't do shit by himself. so my uncle died last night, and he was an addict, like me. my father and him haven't really spoken to each other since they were 18 years old. my brother and i adopted this sweet ass lifestyle by ceasing to communicate around the age of 13. yes, we've lived in the same house for many years and didn't utter a single word to each other. but my uncle was certainly an addict and i've heard a story or two about him, and i understand what he was going through. whatever wretched gene he had inherited, i have the exact same one. it's nonstop suffering. even when you feel your best, you are suffering. it's really makes life feel like it's not worth living. and the worst part about this disease is that everyone hates you for destroying yourself. it's actually comical how absurd it is. clearly the addict is having an awful time at life, otherwise he wouldn't be shooting heroin. but everyone seems to think that they're just doing it to have fun, and they say things like "good! i'm glad when a junkie finally overdoses, serves 'em right!" it really is a cold world. when i die, i know there will be people saying similar things about me, even if i'm sober from now until death. but as for my uncle, it seemed to me like not many people cared about his death. they call addiction the disease of loneliness for a reason. you live an absolutely painstaking life filled with doubt, suffering, self hatred, and woe, and when you die no one cares.
my dad gets along with very few people. it seems like the only people who get along with him are people who rely on him to pay their rent by signing their checks. he's a very impressive person, but i've never seen anyone with a need to be in control, or someone who was a more devout contrarian than my dad. i talk about him as if he's dead, because it kind of feels that way. he stopped talking to me a few years ago after a brief period of pretending like he cared about me. before that it was more or less the same. except instead of hating me and not talking to me, he used to be indifferent and not talk to me.
have you ever wondered where animals go when they die? thomas aquinas said that animals can't possibly go to heaven because that means they would have to be judged by God in the same way that we all are, and that would mean that they also don't have souls because they don't know the difference between right and wrong. while i have massive respect for aquinas and his writings, i seriously have to disagree. many animals have so much personality and they clearly know right from wrong. i think their souls are every bit as valid as ours. just because they were not made in the image of God does not mean they don't belong in God's kingdom. we don't subscribe to this jewish notion that only a select group of people at birth are born to go to heaven while the rest of the living beings are damned to an eternity either in hell or just separated from God. i'll be damned if i believe anything similar to what the synagogue of satan believes in. my cat is going to heaven with me, and we are going to hang out with my drug addict uncle.