who the fuck knows

255048_10150201236462051_1397833_n

What I have heard a lot of, especially this week, is: that is wrong, or that is right, and then, always: fact. Usually, what I believe of something, whether it is right or wrong, does not matter. I could walk into an idea straight on, see it for what it is and still be completely perplexed by that same idea. The whole idea is that we don’t really know—or knowing is an excuse for people who can’t properly use their brains to think. For example, I had a professor ask a classmate: “How the fuck could you possibly know?” when she kept saying she “knows”. She wasn’t thinking, she was stating a “fact” that she knew. I thought about his response and agreed with him, though it was hilarious and harsh. Life is not about knowing… most of the time we don’t really know anything important about anything (actually all the time we don’t know); we don’t know exactly when we are born, what we are doing, or exactly when we die, we just are. Things are, or a thing is. I guess we can know that.

I think right and wrong can fuck off.
How the fuck do I know anyway?

***

Let’s think about something. A thing, like a dress for instance, could be blue to one person, and an entirely different color to another person. My point being, forming a basis idea for that color is pointless, because conveying that idea is pointless—and impossible since colors can only be described by referencing other colors. No one cares about the color of the dress; they care about the idea—thinking on that, the thought of the color of the dress. The “fact” is, proving “facts” does not matter as much as experiencing the idea happening itself. We lack the act of ponderance, it is highly important in growing as a person who has experienced things. Though, I still don’t know if I have experienced anything.

***

Let’s think about other things, and this: nothing is certain. For example: Today I walked into the University Baptist Church on University and 13th, I thought churches promoted peace and love. A sign on a bulletin board within this church told me something a little different; the sign said God Doesn’t like Gay People (and not in those words). In reality people think churches stand for goodness and kindness, what I read was different, or… I better catch myself here, it just WAS. I can no longer believe in this idea for certain, I must experience and think. I met up with a group of people with uncertain smiles, they were really interested in me. I had just met them and I told them how much of a pile-of-shit I was the week leading up to Spring Break, now.

***

Let’s think about other things, and this: nothing is certain. For example: Today I walked into the University Baptist Church on University and 13th, I thought churches promoted peace and love. A sign on a bulletin board within this church told me something a little different; the sign said God Doesn’t like Gay People (and not in those words). In reality people think churches stand for goodness and kindness, but what I read was different, or… I better catch myself here, it just WAS. I can no longer believe in this idea for certain, I must experience and think. I met up with a group of people with uncertain smiles, they were really interested in me (for some weird fucking reason). I had just met them and I told them how much of a pile-of-shit I was the week leading up to Spring Break, now.

***

At this point, if you are wondering why I was in church, it was for a job interview, otherwise known as something I don’t want or need. To say the least, I made it inside without being struck down by lightening, to my utter surprise. Some random group had heard my name mentioned around town (great), and they called me in for a chat about an internship. So, I decided to meet with them. I thought of it as practice for the imaginary dream job I will attain someday in the far off future when staying in school isn’t cool. This interview was for a sales job (SURPRISE), of course, it was disguised as an internship. I never found out why we met in a church, some sort of cover I suspect, for evil deeds. They told me nothing over the phone beforehand, so of course when I get there they are ready to tell me how it is. First off, they gave me examples of hard work and motivation. They asked me easy questions to get me on their page, feeling intelligent. I started feeling smarter, nodding. They need a real “self-motivated” individual, someone with potential, someone who wants to work hard, and, immediately someone I am not, I stop nodding.

***

Listen, I don’t want to sell anyone shit. I thought about how much I already didn’t want this job because it reminded me of a pyramid scheme, it reminded me of me in 2008 trying to eek by on bullshit and smiles. This Dave guy needed someone to go door to door and sell books; these books were summaries of general topics i.e. math, philosophy, and literature, that easy. I thought about Google and libraries—entities offering this data for free to people who could ask succinct questions— and how this book was going to sell like an all inclusive trip to Nebraska, in January, or worse. I don’t think he knew what he was talking about. He was a good salesman though. He bought me a coffee and we chatted, sold.

***

What I learned from Dave is this: if you think about things a lot, it does something to you. If you don’t know, but think on things it really works out. I wanted to cry for people who did stuff like sell God, or sell books for a living. I think God and books should be free, this means these people are useless. I didn’t want to believe that. I thought about money, how I didn’t care about it. I could make $8,000 they said, and be on the verge of a mental breakdown at the same time I thought. I thought about more work, how I didn’t want it. And of course, I thought about how long I would have to sit and listen to Dave in order to pay off his gift of a medium cold-press coffee. I thought about cops offering the people they are interrogating cigarettes, and how it felt like that. I wanted the door. Time was up. The other kid he was interviewing had a good excuse to go, I didn’t.

***

I told him how excuses were for those who built houses out of straw, and then the interview was over… He said we think alike. I guess I was uncertain about that last part, because I think a lot, and he spends too much time working. I told him I would call him, which I won’t. I hope he doesn’t hold his breath on it. There was a nice day outside to be had. I ended up riding to the library and putting my ephemera in local magazine boxes, these were free things. That is the kind of work I like to do, I thought about it. I hope others think too.

Advertisements

About Terry Scott Niebeling

Hello, My name is Terry Scott, a human being with flaws. twitter: @sirterryscott Buy my ebooks: http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss_1/191-4788099-1818040?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=terry+scott+niebeling
This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s