In a funk.
Dan here.
Fair warning: I am currently under the effects of depression. I'm not making apologies for what's said from here on out, but if you don't feel like reading whiny crap, stop now. That said, let's move on, shall we?
Mount Pleasant is a terrible place to live sometimes. Not only is it an hour away from a decent software store, it's also an hour away from a decent coffee shop (rather -- The Only Decent Coffee Shop), but it's an hour and a half from my very best friend Josh. Ten hours from my second-best male friend (and Triadmate) Pat, and god-knows-how-far from the third Triad-mate Stu. Hour and a half from my family, hour and a half from my smattering of friends that remain in my hometown. About three hours from one of the most important people to me, and four hours from the love of my life, who means more to me than text does justice. All those times are Driving the Speed Limit Times, subject to my routes and habits. Now factor in the fact that I don't have a car, and Horrible Isolation sets in.
I don't have friends here, barring my ex-roommate Rob. The friends I have don't ever visit me here, for various reasons, all of which I understand. Understanding doesn't make it any less lonely, however. I hardly ever get calls, either. It's rather depressing that every time I pick up the phone, it's for Justin or Andy or Dave or Joseph Favorito III (no lie). My family doesn't call, it's excessively long-distance for my online buddies to do so, and my girlfriend's been busy as all hell for weeks, so her time's precious. Again, I understand, and again, it just doesn't help.
As usual, I don't know where I'm going with this. Maybe I figure that if I put 'I WANT TO BE CALLED' in a LiveJournal, it'll be taken more seriously than in Away messages. Even though I mean it when I say it. Whatever else I'm doing, there's hardly ever a time it can't wait so I can talk to someone I know and love. Maybe people just don't bother looking at those Away messages. I don't know. But here it is, in plain English, should it come to pass that I've been vague up till now:
CALL ME. Give me a call. Dial my number on your telephone and request my name when prompted.
Anyone I want to talk to knows my phone number, and those that have forgotten it, hit Reply to this (or whatever -- comments, replies, hell if I know) and I'll hook you up. I'm just tired of being by myself in this wasteland of a town.
On a better note, there's a new Matchbox Twenty album due out soon, and this makes me giggly like something really happy. Use your imagination. Also, Ben Folds has a live album coming out even sooner, which includes songs recorded from shows I attended. That is incredibly awesome. Looks like I'm going to miss Tool live once again, but I'm getting used to that. Sigh. Rob Thomas continues to sing to me -- I love it when bands release singles to the internet before the album hits shelves. 'Disease' sounds more like Yourself or Someone Like You than Mad Season, which earns it bonus points on top of the squillion it already had.
So yay. Talking about bands cheered me up. Good. I guess that's about it, and just to make good on my promise, here's a few words from my special guests:
Jaleel: I wish I could find work.
Dustin: I wish I hadn't washed up.
Give 'em a hand, folks! They won't be returning anytime soon.
Fair warning: I am currently under the effects of depression. I'm not making apologies for what's said from here on out, but if you don't feel like reading whiny crap, stop now. That said, let's move on, shall we?
Mount Pleasant is a terrible place to live sometimes. Not only is it an hour away from a decent software store, it's also an hour away from a decent coffee shop (rather -- The Only Decent Coffee Shop), but it's an hour and a half from my very best friend Josh. Ten hours from my second-best male friend (and Triadmate) Pat, and god-knows-how-far from the third Triad-mate Stu. Hour and a half from my family, hour and a half from my smattering of friends that remain in my hometown. About three hours from one of the most important people to me, and four hours from the love of my life, who means more to me than text does justice. All those times are Driving the Speed Limit Times, subject to my routes and habits. Now factor in the fact that I don't have a car, and Horrible Isolation sets in.
I don't have friends here, barring my ex-roommate Rob. The friends I have don't ever visit me here, for various reasons, all of which I understand. Understanding doesn't make it any less lonely, however. I hardly ever get calls, either. It's rather depressing that every time I pick up the phone, it's for Justin or Andy or Dave or Joseph Favorito III (no lie). My family doesn't call, it's excessively long-distance for my online buddies to do so, and my girlfriend's been busy as all hell for weeks, so her time's precious. Again, I understand, and again, it just doesn't help.
As usual, I don't know where I'm going with this. Maybe I figure that if I put 'I WANT TO BE CALLED' in a LiveJournal, it'll be taken more seriously than in Away messages. Even though I mean it when I say it. Whatever else I'm doing, there's hardly ever a time it can't wait so I can talk to someone I know and love. Maybe people just don't bother looking at those Away messages. I don't know. But here it is, in plain English, should it come to pass that I've been vague up till now:
CALL ME. Give me a call. Dial my number on your telephone and request my name when prompted.
Anyone I want to talk to knows my phone number, and those that have forgotten it, hit Reply to this (or whatever -- comments, replies, hell if I know) and I'll hook you up. I'm just tired of being by myself in this wasteland of a town.
On a better note, there's a new Matchbox Twenty album due out soon, and this makes me giggly like something really happy. Use your imagination. Also, Ben Folds has a live album coming out even sooner, which includes songs recorded from shows I attended. That is incredibly awesome. Looks like I'm going to miss Tool live once again, but I'm getting used to that. Sigh. Rob Thomas continues to sing to me -- I love it when bands release singles to the internet before the album hits shelves. 'Disease' sounds more like Yourself or Someone Like You than Mad Season, which earns it bonus points on top of the squillion it already had.
So yay. Talking about bands cheered me up. Good. I guess that's about it, and just to make good on my promise, here's a few words from my special guests:
Jaleel: I wish I could find work.
Dustin: I wish I hadn't washed up.
Give 'em a hand, folks! They won't be returning anytime soon.