Single malt advice, aged 8 years
"Then the cold came,
the dark days,
when the fear crept into my mind...
...i'd go back in time in change it,
but i can't"
- Taylor Swift
Friday night on the downtown strip. Music and laughter and all that jazz. I'm just not feeling it myself though. The highlight of the day was supposed to be a job interview, but it turns out the corporate office never forwarded my job app to the specific store, so the manager collected my info and told me he'd call back once they figured out where there disconnect was. Blah.
That flop just threw the rest of the day into a sulky tailspin. Gotta love being a moody motherfucker. Whatever i fixate on, and the emotions surrounding it, tend to bleed over into everything else i do.
I still haven't unpacked into the new apartment yet. Big tote boxes are everywhere. I rummaged around for my speakers so i could sulk to some Taylor Swift (because badass motherfuckers enjoy Taylor Swift) and came across an old letter. Why i save some of these things, i may never know. People do what they feel compelled to do. The rest of the nostalgia like that is in a lockbox along with important official documents. Seemed like a good time to stick that left-out letter in with the rest. Being depressed already, the last thing i should have done is actually sit there are reread some of that old stuff. So of course i did just that. Because i'm a glutton for punishment.
One of the first ones i pulled out and read is from and old friend. It's years old, and the details don't matter much now. It suffices to say that it wasn't the easiest time in this persons life when they wrote this. Yet they're strangely optimistic in the tone. They mention the overall headache, but then go into detail about the meaningless moments of laughter in the day. At first reading, so many years ago, i probably just laughed and imagined they were goofing off. With the mood i'm in today though, i see it as something bigger. It's someone doing the best they can to enjoy life, moment by moment. If they could change things, they would. But they can't. There are times in life when you'll be powerless to change what's hurting you. Tough shit. Life goes on regardless. The important question becomes what you CAN do to make things better, even if it's just for a moment.
I'd still say i'm in a pretty foul mood right now. It's on the way back up now, at least. No sense in musing what could have been if i haven't yet thought about what i still can do to turn things around. Kinda late out now, but tomorrow morning i'm gonna call the corporate office back and see if i can find out what happened with the hob application, and if i should just resubmit one. Yeah, the store manager said he would look into it, but this is my fight, not his.
Anything short of death isn't a failure, it's only setback. As long as you have a future, you have a chance to shape it. Shame on me for needing to read a letter from a then-17-year-old punk to remember that.
the dark days,
when the fear crept into my mind...
...i'd go back in time in change it,
but i can't"
- Taylor Swift
Friday night on the downtown strip. Music and laughter and all that jazz. I'm just not feeling it myself though. The highlight of the day was supposed to be a job interview, but it turns out the corporate office never forwarded my job app to the specific store, so the manager collected my info and told me he'd call back once they figured out where there disconnect was. Blah.
That flop just threw the rest of the day into a sulky tailspin. Gotta love being a moody motherfucker. Whatever i fixate on, and the emotions surrounding it, tend to bleed over into everything else i do.
I still haven't unpacked into the new apartment yet. Big tote boxes are everywhere. I rummaged around for my speakers so i could sulk to some Taylor Swift (because badass motherfuckers enjoy Taylor Swift) and came across an old letter. Why i save some of these things, i may never know. People do what they feel compelled to do. The rest of the nostalgia like that is in a lockbox along with important official documents. Seemed like a good time to stick that left-out letter in with the rest. Being depressed already, the last thing i should have done is actually sit there are reread some of that old stuff. So of course i did just that. Because i'm a glutton for punishment.
One of the first ones i pulled out and read is from and old friend. It's years old, and the details don't matter much now. It suffices to say that it wasn't the easiest time in this persons life when they wrote this. Yet they're strangely optimistic in the tone. They mention the overall headache, but then go into detail about the meaningless moments of laughter in the day. At first reading, so many years ago, i probably just laughed and imagined they were goofing off. With the mood i'm in today though, i see it as something bigger. It's someone doing the best they can to enjoy life, moment by moment. If they could change things, they would. But they can't. There are times in life when you'll be powerless to change what's hurting you. Tough shit. Life goes on regardless. The important question becomes what you CAN do to make things better, even if it's just for a moment.
I'd still say i'm in a pretty foul mood right now. It's on the way back up now, at least. No sense in musing what could have been if i haven't yet thought about what i still can do to turn things around. Kinda late out now, but tomorrow morning i'm gonna call the corporate office back and see if i can find out what happened with the hob application, and if i should just resubmit one. Yeah, the store manager said he would look into it, but this is my fight, not his.
Anything short of death isn't a failure, it's only setback. As long as you have a future, you have a chance to shape it. Shame on me for needing to read a letter from a then-17-year-old punk to remember that.