Monday, December 26, 2005

Happy Jews Go To The Movies Day.

I don't know whether I coined the phrase myself or if I stole it from someone funnier. History leads me to believe the latter, so don't even think, my dear friends, of giving me any points for owning up to it...not that you would anyway. The thing is that I don't feel very funny these days - I don't think I've been funny for a long time - which is why, in stark contrast of this day of holly jollies and ho ho hos, I tender this depressing-ass introspection, all Hawthorne style and shit…well, less morbid, perhaps. It's been a long time coming.

Let's get the really hard stuff out of the way first.

As you all know Amber broke up with me about 3 years ago and I'm still pretty raw about it. It wasn't a big deal, or so I thought, until I went to visit her back in March. Everything was cool until the second night when she carelessly related something our mutual friend, Jennifer, told her. From then till now, I've been a bit of a mess, while I was there I was a lot of a mess. And oh, what good friends you are; how much better you know me than I know myself. You've known longer than I have, but you kept quiet about it. That's both sweet and fucking lame of you all. But I'll get to you later, right now I'm trying to talk about being lonesome and miserable 9 months out of the year.

Like Peter Stormare, this was my big guy in the shower - my "Oh Nancy." This year, I've come to know myself so much better, and honesty compels me to admit that I don't like myself very much. Thinking that way makes it hard to smile and even harder to make others do so. I'm trying to turn that around, but it's hard. I've lost the art of conversation. Somehow it got up and walked away. I used to be able to walk into a room, grab the mood by the bloomers, and make it my bitch. Now, I'm just trying to keep my head above water. I can smile while I'm doing it, but I've got to work at it.

I'm going to be 26 by the time I graduate, at least that's the idea, and I still have no idea of what I want to do with myself. Remember back when you were little and someone asked what you wanted to be when you grew up? I never had an answer. Not ever. Some people wanted to be doctors or policemen or cooks. I never had a dream job or anything like that. My fantasies have always episodic and always taking place in the present. It's only been recently that concern for the future has taken root in my mind. I wonder why that is. Why only now?

Well shit. It's been 3 hours since I've started, and see what you get? I think I've said all I can for now anyway. I hope you've found this little romp through my mental state at least somewhat entertaining. I hope your holiday has been more enjoyable than mine tend to be. More later. See yall soon.


At 1:56 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

this is exactly why you should come out and get drinks with us. trying to keep your head above water? well, one flailing conversationalist can sink pretty quickly, but tie a bunch of us together and you've got a raft.
yes, i just parapharased a red meat cartoon into a cheesy, inspirational joke...

but you knew what i was saying anyway.
come out, have a few drinks, relax, and let go for a little while. that is something you very rarely do, and sometimes one just has to.

At 11:32 AM, Blogger glasshole said...

I'll be 28 when I graduate and I'll have an even more useless degree than you. My mom didn't know what she wanted to be when she grew up until she was 45, and divorced with 4 kids. I guess shit happens. It's funny, though, because I've had just about this same post bouncing around in my head the last few days, but you beat me to it.
We should hang out, away from all these successful fuckers with their marriages, and their babies, and their PhD's, and their years abroad to create world peace, save the planet, and cure cancer before breakfast. Let's blow something up or smash something with clubs. Or talk about how we could, if we wanted to.
At dinner the other night we were discussing how Che Guevara and Fidel Castro met in a coffee house in New York when they were about our age, and then went on to effect a large amount of influence on a certain section of the world. And look at them now, one is an t-shirt icon/psuedo inspiration for privileged white kids/impoverished latin americans, and one is Fidel F-in' Castro.
There's hope for us yet.


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