Let me clear up on thing really quick: I bitch a moan a whole lot when I write. Is it entertaining to read someone else's bitchings and moanings? Occasionally. Is it fun to write? On fewer occasions than the response to the first question. Here's why it happens, though: when I get a hankering to write, I have to get past my obsessions and torments. If these obsessions and torments are constantly Batman, girls, and cigarettes, then that's going to pre-occupy my writing. Also, if I don't write then most of this complaining will be done to my friends, and no one wants to be around the guy who constantly complains or conjectures about his own life.
So that's why I'm here. Real writers may may translate their problems into abstract stories or vampire tales or something, but I'm not a real writer-- I'm just some guy trying to figure things out. I hate even saying that because people who are trying to figure things out seem to get places, even if it's sporadically and infrequent.
On to today's problems..:
I couldn't sleep until 4:30 or 5 last night (yeah, this morning) after going to bed before 2. My headache was lingering around and a late-night beer/cigarette combo literally did nothing to abate my symptoms. I felt better waking up, though, and got out of bed a bit after noon (which is early in regard to my recent sleep-schedule... that's completely improvised). I rode my motorcycle to Toby's place, then back home to grab my bicycle and head to work. I was completely caught off guard by my own responsibility today: these past few weeks have seen me running late to everything, often ending Toby's walk at exactly the one-hour mark in order to try to make it to work within ten minutes of my scheduled time.
Now I'm at work. I got a text from Lucy when I was walking Toby-- she wants to know when she could come by and pick up all her stuff. I feel like a couple steps were skipped but I'll take the blame on that. I feel bad for not being better at communicating, but hey, here I am. Too late for that. Mike told me I shouldn't be with someone who doesn't understand me, no matter how much she may care about me. He said that I'm me and if I feel like digressing and taking a load off for a while then I'm very much entitled. I'm 22 years old, I have no kids, I'm not married, I'm working pretty close to minimum wage-- why not go with the flow of my own judgment until that's no longer possible (because of kids, a wife, a real job)?
As Mike puts it, he and John are "hetero-life-mates." I don't have that. I don't have the person to do everything with, like going out and getting blind drunk, or going to a movie with, or grabbing coffee, or sitting around and smoking cigarettes. Lucy has been my best friend for the past few years, and it always sucks having to lose someone from your life because you can't make it work on a certain level.
So now what? My rational side says I need to get my shit together, but then I'll be rounding out this circle even further. That's how I work: I get my shit together, I get a girlfriend, it's cool for a while, my shit gets untangled, I lose girlfriend (usually by my own hand), and then the cycle repeats itself. Maybe I should try Mike's move, where I smoke cigarettes and go drinking whenever I want and, as the expression goes, throw feces at a wall and see what sticks. The only downside of that is what if I make some friends who smoke and go out a few times a week and don't understand when I fall off the face of the Earth for a while? I guess I'll have to deal with that if it comes up.
Sometimes I feel like I just moved to a new city. Everyone I used to hang out with is off doing their own thing, or maybe we weren't as good of friends as I thought we were? Nah, not gonna mess around with those thoughts. I don't know. Maybe I should move to a new city. Denver has Megan, so I wouldn't be completely alone while I get adjusted. That's really the only city that comes to mind, unless Juan and Earl find a cool place, like Albuquerque or Seattle.
Maybe I'm due for a bad winter-- it has been a while. There was a time when I thought I wasn't ever going to have to deal with another cold winter. I'll have to make some preparations, I suppose-- cigarettes in the fridge, whiskey in the jar, Netflix in my mailbox, twinkies in the freezer.
I suppose I should clear that up, too. I don't drink very much. Well, I suppose that's quantifiable and everyone has their own standards. Next to lots of my friends, I don't drink a lot. Sometimes I'll go out three times a week (which is rare and I often feel lucky when I can) but I'm often satisfied going out once or twice in a week.
I'm at work right now. I've been at work throughout this entire entry, as is usually the case. Anyhow, I just want to point out how awkward it is for the 3 or 4 minutes that a bad or annoying song comes on. It's almost always an accident, but the only thing worse than letting it play out is skipping to the next song-- then, even the girl who was ignoring the music is made aware that a terrible song was on. Hard knock life, this is.
Alright, I'm within two and a half hours of finishing work so I should probably go do something productive to avoid being here all night.
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