I must be sick, or something.
I have written anything lately because I feel that unless I have something worthwhile to say, I’m not going to waste anyone’s time reading about my pointless days of going to work and playing guitar aimlessly for hours. Because really, who cares?
“Dodgson, Dodgson, we’ve got Dodgson over here! See, nobody cares. Nice hat.”
The past few weeks have been a bit of a drag. I haven’t done much of anything besides work work work. I haven’t been writing at all really, my mind has been too pent up and tied up and fed up and tapped out to do anything that requires any real thought. Last Saturday was Todd’s going away party at his house; he leaves for the army in about a week or so. He’s taking a big step for himself and going out there. I’m going to miss him a hell of a lot. Here is the proof:
I’ve been feeling quite alone and depressed lately. I feel as if my life is headed nowhere. I’m scared that I’m going to end up having to work my ass off every single day just to squeak through life. I’m scared that I’m going to end up like my father, 42 and alone and without a place to call ‘home;’ I’m not saying he isn’t happy, it’s just not how I want to live my life. I want a little bit more stability, I don’t have that free of a spirit.
I also don’t see myself falling in ‘love’ again for quite some time. It just isn’t in my heart for some reason and I don’t know why. I feel like I have lost the one thing that I swear everyone should have in their life. Passion. I am becoming more and more listless/bitter/grumpy/miserable as the days wear on. I don’t know where I am going and what I want to do. Not that it is a bad thing, but I just feel that I am spreading myself too thin with too many projects and jobs. I’m working in the restaurant 30+ hours a week, playing my guitar for at least 2 hours a day, giving guitar lessons, trying to find people to get together for a band, starting a creative writing magazine with a friend, putting my work together for a collection of short stories, writing a novella, changing some of my work into a screenplay format to try and shoot a short film with Mario, planning a trip across the country, job-searching, applying to teaching jobs, and I’m still trying to wade my way through a stack of books that I want to read. Maybe I’m just too busy and I need to chill out. Like Frankie says, Relax, don’t do it when you want to do it.
I guess I’m just too busy for any other person to be in my life at this point. Which kind of sucks because it gets lonely being in your own head all day long with no one else to pick brains with and what not. Whatever, everything happens for a reason and when it is supposed to. It just isn’t the right time right now. As Barney’s dad, the owner of the bowling alley, says to Homer, “when it happens, you’ll know.”
Even though I am absolutely busy doing so much, I feel like none of my efforts will ever come to fruition. Nearly everyone always tells me that I am going to be successful and great and that I will really be something and that I am ‘really going to go somewhere in life.’ I think that people forget that nowhere is somewhere too, because that’s the only place I feel like I’m going at this point.
Remember when gas was only $1.89?
I have a mental list of things I am going to have in my own house when I finally ‘grow up.’ A pool table, a nice big grill, a room dedicated to video games and books and music, a hot tub, and those markers that let you draw on the wall of the bathtub. I always do my best thinking in the shower but I can never remember what my thoughts were when I get out, toweled off, downstairs and dressed. I suppose if I had those markers I would be in the shower twice as long and I would probably run out of hot water before I ran out of things to write, but at least I would have them written down. That’s why I always take long and multiple showers mom, I’m doing my thinking and mental organizing for the day. Not just taking up the bathroom.
I just finished reading “The Lord of the Flies.” What a good fucking book. I want to be shipwrecked on an island for a while. Even though I just got back from that situation only a month ago.
“Dodgson, Dodgson, we’ve got Dodgson over here! See, nobody cares. Nice hat.”
The past few weeks have been a bit of a drag. I haven’t done much of anything besides work work work. I haven’t been writing at all really, my mind has been too pent up and tied up and fed up and tapped out to do anything that requires any real thought. Last Saturday was Todd’s going away party at his house; he leaves for the army in about a week or so. He’s taking a big step for himself and going out there. I’m going to miss him a hell of a lot. Here is the proof:
I’ve been feeling quite alone and depressed lately. I feel as if my life is headed nowhere. I’m scared that I’m going to end up having to work my ass off every single day just to squeak through life. I’m scared that I’m going to end up like my father, 42 and alone and without a place to call ‘home;’ I’m not saying he isn’t happy, it’s just not how I want to live my life. I want a little bit more stability, I don’t have that free of a spirit.
I also don’t see myself falling in ‘love’ again for quite some time. It just isn’t in my heart for some reason and I don’t know why. I feel like I have lost the one thing that I swear everyone should have in their life. Passion. I am becoming more and more listless/bitter/grumpy/miserable as the days wear on. I don’t know where I am going and what I want to do. Not that it is a bad thing, but I just feel that I am spreading myself too thin with too many projects and jobs. I’m working in the restaurant 30+ hours a week, playing my guitar for at least 2 hours a day, giving guitar lessons, trying to find people to get together for a band, starting a creative writing magazine with a friend, putting my work together for a collection of short stories, writing a novella, changing some of my work into a screenplay format to try and shoot a short film with Mario, planning a trip across the country, job-searching, applying to teaching jobs, and I’m still trying to wade my way through a stack of books that I want to read. Maybe I’m just too busy and I need to chill out. Like Frankie says, Relax, don’t do it when you want to do it.
I guess I’m just too busy for any other person to be in my life at this point. Which kind of sucks because it gets lonely being in your own head all day long with no one else to pick brains with and what not. Whatever, everything happens for a reason and when it is supposed to. It just isn’t the right time right now. As Barney’s dad, the owner of the bowling alley, says to Homer, “when it happens, you’ll know.”
Even though I am absolutely busy doing so much, I feel like none of my efforts will ever come to fruition. Nearly everyone always tells me that I am going to be successful and great and that I will really be something and that I am ‘really going to go somewhere in life.’ I think that people forget that nowhere is somewhere too, because that’s the only place I feel like I’m going at this point.
Remember when gas was only $1.89?
I have a mental list of things I am going to have in my own house when I finally ‘grow up.’ A pool table, a nice big grill, a room dedicated to video games and books and music, a hot tub, and those markers that let you draw on the wall of the bathtub. I always do my best thinking in the shower but I can never remember what my thoughts were when I get out, toweled off, downstairs and dressed. I suppose if I had those markers I would be in the shower twice as long and I would probably run out of hot water before I ran out of things to write, but at least I would have them written down. That’s why I always take long and multiple showers mom, I’m doing my thinking and mental organizing for the day. Not just taking up the bathroom.
I just finished reading “The Lord of the Flies.” What a good fucking book. I want to be shipwrecked on an island for a while. Even though I just got back from that situation only a month ago.