Hassle

What is hassle? What’s it mean to be hassled?

I’m not meaning like when other folks hassle you, although that is an important question with there being so many groups out there determined to do just that. Rather today I’m thinking of it in terms of day-to-day existence and the struggle with my own demons.

Today has been yet another “junk mail” day. I’ve been waiting on some important news moving at the pace of bureaucracy. Waiting for some time. And I feel like I’m in limbo because it’s relevant to what some next actions might or might not be. So I start thinking about life itself being one great hassle and… well, depressing thoughts lead to depressing thoughts.

And such thoughts are kind of about the mail but not really just about the mail. When people think of causes, they like to think of one specific cause as if it works in isolation. But the whole past of existence — environment and self — is causal. So I might say, for simplicity sake, I’m depressed about not getting news in the mail, which sounds and is absurd. But the truth is more akin to something like: nothing in the mail scrapes at the scab of depression that frequently wants to bleed.

I start thinking how it seems like death would be hassle free, especially if an effective method is chosen. One, two, gone, and no more hassles.

But on the other hand, death isn’t really hassle-free, is it? Because a hassle-free object would require a subject. It’s neither hassle-free nor hassle-full, in that regard. In fact, in truth, it’s not even a something to be a neither.  It can’t even be described as an end because once it occurs there no longer exists the subject that would makes it into an end.
By logic, death is not a way out because at death “way” and “out” are no longer applicable values.

So I put the junk mail by the shredder, turn on the computer, and fight the feeling of it all — all of it — being a hassle by writing this.

It helps. Not always a lot. But enough.

And enough, is, well, enough.