Wednesday, January 25, 2006
Dead to the World
I listened to JamisonParker this morning. I forgot how much I love that EP.
I'm having a pretty good day. Fell asleep at like 10 last night. Woke up at 7. Did some dishes. Did some laundry. Enjoyed the brightness of my living room, all the big windows and the blinds drawn.
Lately I am so dissatisfied. I feel like ... I don't know ... dead to the world.
I haven't been riding my mountain bike because it's been cold outside. I haven't been playing my guitar because I feel like I suck; and the less I practice, the more I suck. So it just produces this crazy cycle of suckage.
I don't read anything. I read True Love, and half of Maybe, Maybe Not. I read the first page of A Tale of Two Cities. I've read pieces of magazine articles. But for the last few years I could count on one hand how many good books I've read.
Even when I read them, I don't discuss them. I don't think too critically about them. I just let them wash over me. Like water. It feels like doing something. But it's not really. Other than passing time, I suppose.
My schedule is changing. I'm adjusting. It's something I wanted. I let Slicks become some sort of staple in my life. Now I'm away from poeople, and that environment. I don't really miss it. In fact, I'm happier. Just trying to learn a new way to manage my time now that work doesn't take up so much. My nights are free to do as I please. I began to loathe working until 3 a.m., and how I always felt anxious -- like I needed to go out whenever I was off, rather than stay home. Otherwise, mid-week I'd go crazy watching everyone else hang out while I would bring them their drinks.
Now, though, I miss myself. I miss my apartment. Crazy how it sounds, but I think I spent more time at home when I was working two jobs and going to school than I do now.
And I spent so much more time alone. At least a couple hours a day.
I feel like my brain is melting. I don't read the paper or watch the news. I rarely have intelligent conversation. I feel so dispassionate about most things.
And some asshole broke my heart six months ago. Only, he wasn't an asshole. I only say that because I know the fact that I miss him still, after this long, is incredibly lame.
I need to spend more time alone. I am not even talking about boys here. I already decided awhile ago to take a break from dating. But I feel like I've already begun to distance myself from people mentally. Now, I want to do so even more. Just enough so that I can make the time to figure out what it is that I do, or would like to do. And what I would like to talk about. Because so many of the conversations I have aren't about anything at all.
And I'm lonely, but lonely for a sense of something that's missing. I'm lonelier in crowds, when I can feel the emptiness more acutely, than when I'm alone, taking time to relax. I think if a person spends enough time alone they can forget what loneliness is, and just be comfortable. I know I can, because this time last year that's exactly where I was, and it was wonderful. My life was as close to complete as it has ever been.
I listened to JamisonParker this morning. I forgot how much I love that EP.
I'm having a pretty good day. Fell asleep at like 10 last night. Woke up at 7. Did some dishes. Did some laundry. Enjoyed the brightness of my living room, all the big windows and the blinds drawn.
Lately I am so dissatisfied. I feel like ... I don't know ... dead to the world.
I haven't been riding my mountain bike because it's been cold outside. I haven't been playing my guitar because I feel like I suck; and the less I practice, the more I suck. So it just produces this crazy cycle of suckage.
I don't read anything. I read True Love, and half of Maybe, Maybe Not. I read the first page of A Tale of Two Cities. I've read pieces of magazine articles. But for the last few years I could count on one hand how many good books I've read.
Even when I read them, I don't discuss them. I don't think too critically about them. I just let them wash over me. Like water. It feels like doing something. But it's not really. Other than passing time, I suppose.
My schedule is changing. I'm adjusting. It's something I wanted. I let Slicks become some sort of staple in my life. Now I'm away from poeople, and that environment. I don't really miss it. In fact, I'm happier. Just trying to learn a new way to manage my time now that work doesn't take up so much. My nights are free to do as I please. I began to loathe working until 3 a.m., and how I always felt anxious -- like I needed to go out whenever I was off, rather than stay home. Otherwise, mid-week I'd go crazy watching everyone else hang out while I would bring them their drinks.
Now, though, I miss myself. I miss my apartment. Crazy how it sounds, but I think I spent more time at home when I was working two jobs and going to school than I do now.
And I spent so much more time alone. At least a couple hours a day.
I feel like my brain is melting. I don't read the paper or watch the news. I rarely have intelligent conversation. I feel so dispassionate about most things.
And some asshole broke my heart six months ago. Only, he wasn't an asshole. I only say that because I know the fact that I miss him still, after this long, is incredibly lame.
I need to spend more time alone. I am not even talking about boys here. I already decided awhile ago to take a break from dating. But I feel like I've already begun to distance myself from people mentally. Now, I want to do so even more. Just enough so that I can make the time to figure out what it is that I do, or would like to do. And what I would like to talk about. Because so many of the conversations I have aren't about anything at all.
And I'm lonely, but lonely for a sense of something that's missing. I'm lonelier in crowds, when I can feel the emptiness more acutely, than when I'm alone, taking time to relax. I think if a person spends enough time alone they can forget what loneliness is, and just be comfortable. I know I can, because this time last year that's exactly where I was, and it was wonderful. My life was as close to complete as it has ever been.
Labels: Books, College, Depression, JamisonParker, Music, Work
Monday, September 26, 2005
I bet it never gets this cold in California.
Waiting. I hate waiting. Waiting for Hurricane Rita. Evacuating Houston. Waiting in eight hours of traffic to travel closer than San Antonio. Waiting.
Waiting in Houston for college to end. Waiting for camp to end back when I thought Aaron would be at home.
Waiting always brings so many expectations.
But I'm waiting for something else now. Something else entirely.
Tomorrow morning I'm going with my parents and my dog to the vet. I'm going to come home with my parents. But she is never coming home again.
Buffy is the only living thing in this world I've gotten to see grow up. And now I'm going to see her die.
When she was a puppy and I was a little girl, she used to lie on my stomach while I watched TV. And then, when I'd get up, she'd steal my pillow.
I've never been through this before. I'm not sure I want to go except I don't want her to die alone. I know my parents will be with her, but I can't just sit and wait and watch them come out without her.
I've been feeling sick all day. My mother called me this morning, while I was working. I covered my shift tonight at my other job, so I could sleep here and go with them.
This afternoon we took her for a walk behind our house by the bayou. The grass had just been mowed. I walked with her as long as she wanted. I waited for her to turn around. We didn't want to go too far. She has been in pain, and we're not sure how much she enjoys her walks.
Tonight she seemed to. She may have sensed the finality of it. We're taking her again in the morning, before we go.
***
I got a phone bill today that's not mine. It's in my name, and my social security number is the one I found to be on the account. It was mailed to my parents' house, but it's not mine.
It's funny because I just got another phone bill a few months ago, from another account that was not mine. From another company. So now that's two large bills in collection for accounts I never opened.
But I do know someone who gets a thrill out of opening accounts with other persons' social security numbers. Sadly, he's related to me. He's a fuck. Sadly I have his last name.
So it looks like I've got another fight to fight. When all I want to do is forget he ever existed. I fucking hate him.
***
I've decided dating is like the lottery. Or rather, I look at it as a scientific experiment. Although I think about it in if/then statements, which makes me think of studying logic in a philosophy class.
Or maybe it's more like a prove my hypothesis kinda thing. If a guy says he's going to call, but statistically nine times out of 10 they don't call, then I guess there's a 1 percent chance I'm going to give a shit.
It's cool, though, because like I said it's an experiment. Or an adventure. If you look at it as something that is happening outside yourself (which may or may not be unhealthy, I'm not sure), it's at least interesting.
***
I talked to Aaron today for the first time in awhile. It was so lame. I told him I wished he'd be my friend. So he said if I wanted to have a beer sometime we could do that. But then we were talking about my birthday and I told him I didn't invite him because I knew he wouldn't have come, and then he said he probably wouldn't have. So it's like why would he want to meet me for a beer now if he wouldn't have gone to my birthday party?
Aaargh! You see, it's an experiment. I'm betting that if I call and I want to have a beer with Aaron, there is a 1 percent chance he will answer his phone. Like most normal human beings he always has his phone nearby and answers it unless he doesn't want to talk to you. Hmmph.
***
Eric and I might get married. He's been my best friend for years. We've known each other since we were 12. I think I'm too young to have a back-up plan, hah, but whatever. Actually today we were talking on the phone and he said when he was 50 he would have a 5-year-old. And when he's 33 he's going to marry a 22-year-old trophy wife. And I said I'd be gossiping about it at the ceremony, except not really, because I'll be there with my new husband, who will be five years younger than his wife. Scandalous! Aha.
I'm laughing in my head you know. And it feels good. It feels good to laugh even if it is only inside. And only for a moment.
I guess I have a lot on my mind.
Waiting. I hate waiting. Waiting for Hurricane Rita. Evacuating Houston. Waiting in eight hours of traffic to travel closer than San Antonio. Waiting.
Waiting in Houston for college to end. Waiting for camp to end back when I thought Aaron would be at home.
Waiting always brings so many expectations.
But I'm waiting for something else now. Something else entirely.
Tomorrow morning I'm going with my parents and my dog to the vet. I'm going to come home with my parents. But she is never coming home again.
Buffy is the only living thing in this world I've gotten to see grow up. And now I'm going to see her die.
When she was a puppy and I was a little girl, she used to lie on my stomach while I watched TV. And then, when I'd get up, she'd steal my pillow.
I've never been through this before. I'm not sure I want to go except I don't want her to die alone. I know my parents will be with her, but I can't just sit and wait and watch them come out without her.
I've been feeling sick all day. My mother called me this morning, while I was working. I covered my shift tonight at my other job, so I could sleep here and go with them.
This afternoon we took her for a walk behind our house by the bayou. The grass had just been mowed. I walked with her as long as she wanted. I waited for her to turn around. We didn't want to go too far. She has been in pain, and we're not sure how much she enjoys her walks.
Tonight she seemed to. She may have sensed the finality of it. We're taking her again in the morning, before we go.
***
I got a phone bill today that's not mine. It's in my name, and my social security number is the one I found to be on the account. It was mailed to my parents' house, but it's not mine.
It's funny because I just got another phone bill a few months ago, from another account that was not mine. From another company. So now that's two large bills in collection for accounts I never opened.
But I do know someone who gets a thrill out of opening accounts with other persons' social security numbers. Sadly, he's related to me. He's a fuck. Sadly I have his last name.
So it looks like I've got another fight to fight. When all I want to do is forget he ever existed. I fucking hate him.
***
I've decided dating is like the lottery. Or rather, I look at it as a scientific experiment. Although I think about it in if/then statements, which makes me think of studying logic in a philosophy class.
Or maybe it's more like a prove my hypothesis kinda thing. If a guy says he's going to call, but statistically nine times out of 10 they don't call, then I guess there's a 1 percent chance I'm going to give a shit.
It's cool, though, because like I said it's an experiment. Or an adventure. If you look at it as something that is happening outside yourself (which may or may not be unhealthy, I'm not sure), it's at least interesting.
***
I talked to Aaron today for the first time in awhile. It was so lame. I told him I wished he'd be my friend. So he said if I wanted to have a beer sometime we could do that. But then we were talking about my birthday and I told him I didn't invite him because I knew he wouldn't have come, and then he said he probably wouldn't have. So it's like why would he want to meet me for a beer now if he wouldn't have gone to my birthday party?
Aaargh! You see, it's an experiment. I'm betting that if I call and I want to have a beer with Aaron, there is a 1 percent chance he will answer his phone. Like most normal human beings he always has his phone nearby and answers it unless he doesn't want to talk to you. Hmmph.
***
Eric and I might get married. He's been my best friend for years. We've known each other since we were 12. I think I'm too young to have a back-up plan, hah, but whatever. Actually today we were talking on the phone and he said when he was 50 he would have a 5-year-old. And when he's 33 he's going to marry a 22-year-old trophy wife. And I said I'd be gossiping about it at the ceremony, except not really, because I'll be there with my new husband, who will be five years younger than his wife. Scandalous! Aha.
I'm laughing in my head you know. And it feels good. It feels good to laugh even if it is only inside. And only for a moment.
I guess I have a lot on my mind.
Labels: Deadbeat Dads, Friendship, JamisonParker, Man's Best Friend, Relationships
