the scene is safe!

Still kicking. I recently took a CPR certification and have decided that I will only administer on close family and people I actually like. If I don't know you or know you a little bit and you are a tit, then peace out. Also, if I know you well and have taken you out for a night of debauchery with my friends and you have squabbled over the bill, don't come to me to breathe for you.

There is not much to rave or rant about these days, or maybe there is and I am just out of gas. Petrol. It is just too expensive. Not because of the price of oil, but the lives it has cost in the past, it is currently costing, and the innumerable deaths in the future. I have taken to our notoriously shoddy public transportation system. You know the one, where drawbridges get stuck and stop rail traffic in and out of Manhattan for up to five hours. Where it is either too hot or too cold and those sensitive switches decide to strike against working in uncomfortable conditions. Or how about the buses that decide to combust not so spontaneously? You have to recognize that it is a little planned, I mean when they are not maintained and the thermostat is over the red, you have to know that something is up.

I have been so bored with the internet. Shopping even, I realized that I was the one sending me all those little packages in the mail and it kind of lost its luster. Especially when I had a look at my credit card. I only got upset because I know that I am supposed to get upset at high numbers on my credit card statement. But really, who cares? I mean I know you have to pay for what you buy, but why give numbers, shapes fashioned by ink on a piece of dried wood pulp, so much meaning? You can't actually touch the numbers, only more wood pulp. I guess to take the pressure off of ourselves. Income, home value, net worth is a lot easier to build than yourself. What is money anyway, or even gold, for that matter? You take it out of the bank to give to people as gifts and shit, and you get gifts and shit and put it back in. Or in my case, spend it. But still, you get more shit. The point is that it just goes around in a circle and causes a series of events that also don't have any meaning in and of themselves. Giving gifts on birthdays, holidays. Expecting gifts on birthdays and holidays. I honestly love buying things for others much more than for myself, and not for occasions, but giving something to a person who really appreciates it is a great event. I want to buy it even though it is obscenely priced, but the resulting exchange would cause so much discomfort that I walk away empty handed. Mostly because you can never just give someone something because it is something you want them to have. There comes the whole coy game: No! You shouldn't have! But I wanted to. No! You shouldn't have! But I wanted to. etc. Then the little, flicker across their forehead that goes: Shit, now I have to get her something. Gifts are not really gifts, my dear friends. Nothing that comes wrapped in bullshit will ever be a true gift. So then, what is a true gift? There is always some level of self-interest or satisfaction to be had which classifies it a selfish act. Is there a such thing as a Good Man? Aristotle, care to weigh in on this? Crap, I wish I had never sold my freshman year humanities books. I don't know what I am talking about, I am probably going to disagree in the morning but who cares. It's my blog.