Unwind.

How do you unwind after a demanding day?

That’s today’s prompt from WordPress. I’m sitting here thinking that I don’t have a ritual. Are rituals supposed to be comforting? All they do is encourage brain death. Allowing life to be entirely comprised of rituals — SAME SHIT, DIFFERENT DAY — makes life boring, for one thing… but it also makes you turn yourself into an unthinking creature. A creature who doesn’t think but still feels. What you really want to be is an unfeeling creature so you don’t have to hurt from all the stuff going on in your personal and professional life.

Let me solve the equation for you:

Find your passion. Whatever it is, find it. Embrace it. Practice it. Have fun with it.

Now find a career using it.

You’ve settled for second-best or the dregs or both, over time. You compromised on your own desires and passions. You killed yourself to make money because that’s the fool’s dream of “success.” Make money, allow your heart to die to make more money, and now that you’ve hoarded enough money as a miser that you don’t even know you’re miserable, NEVER SPEND IT! Mwuahahahahahaha!

Ahem. Pardonne moi. Was that evil laughter? Oh. It was.

And now you are miserable, selling out to The Man(TM). Because you are miserable with this compromise, you are sowing seeds of misery all around you. You are being nit-picked over mistakes, both big and small, in reference to earning cash, so now you nit-pick everything in your life. Is your bride skinny enough? Smart enough? Does she whore herself out to you enough? Is your husband handsome enough? Is his penis big enough or wide enough? Is he paying enough attention to you in bed? Do they make you feel alive when they look at you, as if you are the spark of life in their life?!

Wait, that last one is semi-legit, isn’t it?

You know what? My feet are cold. That’s what I truly think about all that crap. And that enough is enough. When will we stop letting psychopaths tell the rest of us what success is? Isn’t it enough to be clothed, fed, and on our own path? To have a roof over our heads? Is there truly more to life than that and a bowl of popcorn and Netflix for hours and hours? (And, coming soon to a state near you, legalized cannabis, of course. Or marijuana if you prefer, but only if you know that J is pronounced like an H and not a W.)

Pedantic! RULES LAWYER! I CALL IT LIKE I SEE IT! SHE’S A RULES LAWYER!

Busted!

Shut up and sit down. My feet are still cold. And my fingertips, too. I’m thinking about brewing a nice chamomile tea and it’s only ten in the fucking marning. (Now there’s something to unwind with that isn’t alcohol, which is the very first thing that leapt into my mind, might I add.)

So far today, I have done the dishes and some laundry. I ate breakfast. I made my morning pot of espresso (which I drink by myself) and now it’s a matter of waiting for my noon pot of espresso. In the meantime, I type whatever God wants you to hear, which is about my silly schedule on this Monday. I’m not allowed to work, you see; I must be kept like a kitty cat until I rejuvenate the arms which belonged to me all along and were cut off by the scythe of RIDICULE. Which one of you bastards is to blame? Most of you, it turns out.

You control other people and their behavior with ridicule, shame, guilt, disdain, and other forms of disapproval. I hereby declare this bull shit is HATRED and earns you a place in HELL itself. But what can you do when a psycho is hating on you? Take them to court like a logical little beastie. It was always what you were meant to do. Throw them in jail or slap them with a penalty they won’t soon forget. (Calling all judges. Lawyers. Legal aides. Paralegals. Et cetera.) You know, I actually don’t know what paralegals do. It might be inappropriate to call them to attention in this case. But I did it because they have the word LEGAL in their name!

Now, on the subject of legality… legalese doth sucketh as a language. So let me simplify all of life for you:

1. If nobody is being hurt (no animal, no child, no adult, no object, no entity that you can hear, see, or feel) then whatever is happening is FINE. It’s not YOUR duty to say one fucking word about it. I’m especially talking to you rapist assholes who decide if a woman can’t sing she should never try.
2. If you happen to hurt someone, it is your responsibility to spend time making sure it comes a’right. Thus, if you run over a dog, you should pull over and see if the owner approaches you or not. If it’s a wild dog, there will be no owner, or a runaway that no one has realized has run away… however, if it’s a person who temporarily lost control of their dog, they will be very close by. Perhaps the dog ran out the front door and slid in front of a school bus on the ice in its happiness to see the little miss or mister home from school. If nothing else, spiritually apologize to the dog. Hold it in your arms in your imagination. Pet it. MOURN it. (This is just one example, of course.)
3. WAIT. You have to wait for the other party to accept your apology and your reparations. You can’t force the person you rape to accept that you didn’t mean to do it and you were just a lug head who wasn’t seeing reality the way it was that day. (This is the court defense of the psycho I’m sending off in a burning canoe.)

Furthermore, I doth protest that all legalese be entrenched in Ye Olde English and a propensity of the usage of uncommon wordage and vernacular in order to CONFUSE THE COMMON MAN. (Or woman.)

Thus, I shall have to task myself with translating most laws into common people words, methinks, so that the rest of humanity can hold these middle class assholes who can afford to put a lawyer on retainer for life to be taken down, or even lower class thieves who get caught with their pants down, and once and for all end the INJUSTICE OF THIS WORLD.

If every human being understands their rights, then every human being can act on their court cases. If every human being at least lodged a complaint with the courts, then anyone with say, more than 15 complaints, should be tried for the collection of complaints by the governments themselves.

Put the psychopaths in jail, she says gently, to put it into plain English.