Grrrrrrump

The move is complete. I'm settling in a few blocks from where I grew up, boggling at how many changes have happened in the four years since I last lived here, and trying to decide what to do next.

In looking at my options, I'm feeling more defective and dejected than I usually do. There are jobs I could do if I weren't autistic, if I didn't have a hearing disability, if that car accident a few years ago hadn't damaged my knees. The ones that remain viable despite those handicaps aren't terribly appealing, and the thought of getting back on the treadmill of working to pay bills to work to pay bills fills me with a sort of existential fury at the futility of it all.

Add to that my lack of ambition, or at least ambition in the modern sense, and I'm feeling stuck. I don't want to pursue any particular career, I don't want to go back to school... those options feel pointless in this swirling cloud of nihilism that's been getting thicker and more oppressive the older I get. I want to live a quiet, agrarian life away from other people, away from red tape and bureaucratic bullsh*t... but that option isn't available to me, because there are always taxes and fees and regulations and forms that require funding on a personal level, and those funds have to come from somewhere, which, in my case, means a job. With my resumé, it means a job that barely pays the rent and leaves me too exhausted to do anything else.

It's hard to keep one's chin up when it feels like the entire world, the era and culture in which one lives, is toxic to one's very existence.