Crunchy Martian Peanut Butter

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Contrary to what natural peanut butter labels will tell you, separation is not natural. It hurts when your all nutty for someone and then they split. Ouch! And also unlike peanut butter, coldness will not make separation any tastier or more manageable. At thirty, I have two life piles and take them seriously. There is the done pile and the undone pile. The undone pile consists of: not going to give-it-a-gos and yeah, maybes.

We live in a world of smartphones and owners, not of many human beings. I call people on my rectangular, cancer causing thing, but mostly they just word me back and forth. Ultimately, we get all confused about what the other meant and so we word at someone else for a while on the rectangle, and possibly got back to wording with the first person, or more people, or throwing the damn rectangle or less angrily powering it off, depending on your style of intimacy avoidance.

Disliking people takes a lot of energy. I know this, yet, an incorrect assumption remains. How unsettling it is to go on telling myself people think negatively of me when they aren’t contacting me. Admitting to yourself that others aren’t thinking of you at all is entirely more painful (see peanut butter rant above) than being forgotten. At least when you think you’re receiving negative attention you can respond to the imagined dislike with anger or your own dislike to ignore the pain.

It really is the phones, the rectangles themselves, that feed us the idea that we should be on other peoples minds. To sit alone a lot seems negative, but when the alternative rears: being un-lonely with people that accept social networking as primary communication to be normal, focusing on capturing the moment of now to enjoy later, separation and aloneness are going to have to be natural.

Sadly, this is not the first time I’ve had a slight breakdown in the grocery store, but the first few times I was in the card isle and their were obvious emotional, hallmark-inspired abandonment triggers, but peanut butter? I’m hopeless.

Finding hope after Isle 30…A crap working title regarding the fact that we have purchasing power, but have lost our souls. Suck it, consumerism.

People are dying in the world as I type, probably at the smartphone factory on the continent of Asia, and the worst thing that happened to me today was that I had a panic attack to the words of a Shakira song from 2001 near all the nut butters and a sale display of Ritz, when I got home I placed my raisins in the refrigerator and thought I had abandoned them at the checkout, and they didn’t have my brand of coconut milk at the store to make that soup I eat alone, when I cry.

Today, I met my downstair’s neighbor. Dried tears decorated my cheeks from the episode at the grocery store. He is one of the four units that occupy this building and the first neighbor I have met. I moved in five days ago. This place is interesting. I do enjoy that people don’t knock on my door all nosey like and bring me pies. Unless they were apple pies, but I’m mad-paranoid so despite the flavor I’d pass on the baked goods. How are we supposed to make friends now? What if I die in the time proceeding friend making, like, who would feed my dog?

This alone thing gets me when I talk about the dog and just about every time I am in a situation where I need to provide an emergency contact for paperwork. Should one use the closest distance acquaintance or the relative they are closest with? Can a medical professional chime in here? Do you want someone who can quickly identify a dead body or someone who knows what to do with the loner dead body? Thanks.

Besides the preparations for unlikely early deaths, there really aren’t many reasons being single is impractical. Yet, taxes would be cool if I could just let someone else to them and of course it is the traditional way to become parents, but we all know technology makes it possible for people without all the necessary biological paired reproductive components to make, adopt, or grow babies, so thats really not an issue either. Prince doesn’t even need to be alive to continue to work, creating revenue for his siblings who won rights to his estate. We’ve made it possible to work after death. Yay, America.

We are trashing this planet and we are going to Mars. That isn’t a crazy-rant of verbal vomit. Occupying Mars is bonafide future actuality. Environmental stewardship activists are screaming and fighting now. This is good! The first settlers will be a few necessary survivalist adventurers of the first degree human character, but mostly fat-pocket cats. The exorbitant cost of private space travel will no doubt be accompanied by matching fees to sustain life on a planet which is currently uninhabitable. Water desalinization is not available on a large scale because of cost on Earth. Providing all life’s necessary resources on Mars will be an incredible feat of printed coin. My fear is that Mars will become Earth’s CEO office and a select few will sit up there and tell us what to do, like an Ayn Rand wet dream.

Fear not though, by my completely unqualified estimation, it’ll be another 25 years at least before any nightmare of that nature. So for now, lets enjoy and continue to fight for Earth’s nature. Plebeian environ stewards of the underworld unite!

 

Kristie M. Hendricks

15 February 2018