It has taken me some time, but i think it is past due. no more than a few months ago i attempted suicide through means of playing russian roulette. before the attempt, i had earned myself a DUII cause i had been drinking too much, for far too long, with far to little responsibility taken upon myself for such actions. although the two correlate in timing, reasoning for each differs. but given the timing and a small attention to detail, putting the blame on a DUII rather than loneliness made sense. It would give the people who cared something to blame, and the people who didn't care a valid excuse for their negligence.
it just made sense; to a person where causing one's own death has been a valid option.
but, obviously, i lost my perilous game of russian roulette (or what multiple therapists consider winning, but when given thought to the action of russian roulette and the comprehension that it is a game where there is one player with one objective, i certainly did lose). the amount of support that followed in wake of my self served death ticket expounded upon an already massive amount of guilt that added to the chronic depression i am now 'coping' with. not saying it is something i have no appreciation for. i am just saying im not quite sure the route in which to navigate to get to the feeling where appreciation is genuine.
more about the attempt later, right at this second it is past midnight. my brain seems to not want sleep. my body doesnt care, so i find myself clapping the letter keys of my laptop keyboard with the pads of my fingers in an attempt to put a mushy, undefined blob of thought into coherent, yet simple sentences. but dont let me run on and on.
things float into my thoughts, like an eye floater when starring at a clear, blue summer sky. i can feel the compression of focus toward one area of thought, but when i try to direct my full attention at that opaque sense of understanding it recedes past the parameters of my conscious. it is not quite rational for me to become frustrated by not being able to have thoughts i haven't fully thought yet, but i am. in a quiet way.
but there is a constant in every concept i happen to conceive in my maliciously passive brain. a choosing of sides, of sorts. actually more of a lack of choosing sides.
human beings are funny; they(or i guess we) are the only animal to cognitively process and produce humor. therefore, humans are funny. but whats funny is the fact that most humor is a layer of contemplation about the things that hurt, or discomfort. a way of processing the things in which direct contact would paralyze. not to say its a mask or coping method, which it can be, but it is a step in processing experience. it is, so to say, in everything.
so cliche.
but, directing myself to a point of interest for this blog, humor is the invisible line where maturity and immaturity, sincerity and insincerity — or possibly — comfort and discomfort meet. i live on this line, because i have no understanding of it. well, i mean yes, i cognitively can apply the definition to application of the word in a sentence and know the social expectations of when is too much and when is too little. but where i fall lacking of knowledge, given the topic of humor, is why it creates tension when i cross said lines. in every circumstance, without fail, a certain amount of tension follows when i make a distasteful joke. and the same amount of tension, on the opposite side of what it feels like to be uncomfortable, follows when i take something too serious comparatively to those who surround me. i dont understand this dynamic. this possession of thought people call 'taking it to far.'
for me, when i apply the social standards of anger or joy to humor, i end up crossing the line. this makes humor special. creating an obsolete standard where every other emotion is concerned. creating a psychotic obsession of not necessarily being funny, but finding everyones so to speak 'humor comfort zone,' where that invisible line is never crossed. when i find this line of good and tasteful humor, which happens to be individual for every person, i feel in a small way connected to them, through understanding about them, by what it is they take seriously and what it is they can laugh at.
maybe that's why, when talking to someone with a 'mental illness,' they dont match the level of volume you laugh at. or they continue laughing for too long. or they carry on a joke for what seems like hours.
or maybe, given humor is generally accepted as creating a welcoming atmosphere, there needs to be a redefinition of whats funny so when people who may not have such an acute sense of humor let loose a barrage of slangs, filled with puns, wrapped up in a knock knock joke, for what most definitely is 30 minutes too long, the people around them will understand, 'oh, he has an obtuse sense of humor,' and every one can laugh and go on their merry way.
or maybe i am just taking this too far.
