The older I get the more I tell myself, “Why do I even care?” And it’s true. It’s so much easier to NOT care. I shouldn’t care if things are done right at work, especially since very few at work care if they’re done right. So why should I go against the grain? I just need to clock in for my 40 hours a week, do the minimal of what’s required of me, and go home. Caring if things are done right isn’t important. Everyday, I’m more and more like Stanley on The Office. And I guess that’s not all bad.
It’s better not to care about friends, especially guys. Every week I find those I refer to as “friends” really only care about one person: himself/herself. And hey, I guess that’s OK. But why should I care about them if they don’t care about me? The answer is: I shouldn’t.
It’s better not to care about eating healthy. Why? Well, define what “healthy” even is. No one seems to know. One day it’s low-fat. The next it’s high-protien. The next it’s plant-based foods until everything’s infested with listeria and salmonella and ecoli. Ew. And even beyond that, so we’re supposed to eat plants. But not potatoes. Or corn. Or carrots. Or non-organic spinach. Or canned tomatoes. What the hell are we supposed to eat? It’s easier to hit a drive through and not think about it. And, clearly, even when we try to eat healthy, it’ll never be good enough.
And now that we’re talking about trying not to die, why do we even care? First of all, if we’re a God-fearing Christian, aren’t we looking forward to death? And if we’re stuck here, is there even a point in caring about retirement. The older I get, the more bleak the economy looks, the bigger the asshats running the “system” and the more likely no matter how much I save it’ll all either be lost in the stockmarket or never be enough to retire.
So, really, what’s the point in caring or trying? There really isn’t one.
Well, except I can care about beer. And cheese dip. I mean, how often do you get a food-borne illness from cheese dip? Never. Assuming you don’t put any fresh fruits or veggies in the stuff. I can care about my family, because they aren’t selfish assholes. And I can care about… OK, give me one more thing to round out my list. Sleep? I really do like sleeping. Sure, I’m wasting away my time on this earth. But at least I’m not half-assing something at work, eating something tainted, or spending the little money that won’t be enough to retire on.
Cynical post, done.