Mama always said life was like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're gonna get.
What's going on? Am I distancing myself from my friends? And why?
I get it. People change. I change. Or maybe I haven't realized something before. Or maybe there's something new this time. But something's different. This past week I just want to get back to Niagara and all my friends there. I might not have known them as long as my friends from home, but I feel they understand the me of today better. Or maybe they don't. Maybe no one does. And I'll miss my friends at home while I'm at Niagara, and vice versa. Maybe I'm just searching for someone to understand me. That sounds like such a "misunderstood youth" thing to say. And that's definitely not what I'm going for.
Speaking of which, I saw a play the other night where the playwright (and production) thought it was being really profound in examining the aimlessness of America's youth. You know the drill. One character thinks he understands the ways of the world, or at least that the world isn't wonderful (and has some idea of some current event that's an issue), and yells at his friends for not giving a shit. There's the artist who isn't being appreciated. The drunk who has nothing to do other than yell at people and consume his beloved alcohol. And don't forget the kid who wants to get high and, in one day, acts like he likes a certain girl and then sleeps with another one that night, just because he can. These characters throw caution to the wind. Why? Because the world doesn't understand them. Because the world isn't fair. Boo fucking hoo.
Besides the fact that these people are both so perfectly suited for each other, and, at the same time, so undeniably forced (the emphasized word) to coexist in the world of the play simply for the convenience of giving the playwright a story - and a self-important one at that, these characters are pathetic. They have dreams. But their vision of reality is so jaded. Because everything is either a fantasy that can't come true, or a reality that makes them want to commit suicide. There's no moderation. The play is oddly enough titled subUrbia. The capitalized "U" in the title says it all. The play wants to be clever, witty, relevant. In the end though, the "U" isn't explained. And these kids aren't from suburbia. I know suburbia. These kids are in some world where people hang out at the local convenient store, lying on the ground, bitching about the world (using words that isn't true to the characters' realities, or at least that confuse and contradict them), smoking pot in the woods in the back, empty beer bottles everywhere. All this with remnants of snow on the ground. If it's that cold, go inside. No one I know in a suburb would do this, and no one would be these characters. They're not "misunderstood youth" (I know some of those), they're just lazy bums who are worried about the future. Shut the fuck up and start living already. Try to find what you want to do. The safest and easiest place to do that is in college. Sure, it's expensive. But you can find SOMEWHERE to test your interests. There's compromise in life, sure. But say you can't move to New York City and become an artist. Say you know you'll starve to death. Why the hell can't you be an art teacher? Or work in an art gallery? Find what you love, and then try to incorporate that into a realistic job, lifestyle. Be reasonable, but try to find some enjoyment in life.
So in conclusion: no, stretch limos aren't cool. Who gives a shit if someone you hated in high school and who's now famous calls you up and wants to hang out? People from Bel Air would be insulted and pissed to be reduced to social stereotypes as much as poor, depraved kids from Compton would. We all feel, but we're not all entirely fucked up. Life is hard. Try to make it work. Don't be lazy and just bitch. DO something. At least then you've done something, instead of just glide through life as nothing. If you can't make a big difference, make a little difference. Remember: you can't win unless you play. So fucking play. Ok?
I get it. People change. I change. Or maybe I haven't realized something before. Or maybe there's something new this time. But something's different. This past week I just want to get back to Niagara and all my friends there. I might not have known them as long as my friends from home, but I feel they understand the me of today better. Or maybe they don't. Maybe no one does. And I'll miss my friends at home while I'm at Niagara, and vice versa. Maybe I'm just searching for someone to understand me. That sounds like such a "misunderstood youth" thing to say. And that's definitely not what I'm going for.
Speaking of which, I saw a play the other night where the playwright (and production) thought it was being really profound in examining the aimlessness of America's youth. You know the drill. One character thinks he understands the ways of the world, or at least that the world isn't wonderful (and has some idea of some current event that's an issue), and yells at his friends for not giving a shit. There's the artist who isn't being appreciated. The drunk who has nothing to do other than yell at people and consume his beloved alcohol. And don't forget the kid who wants to get high and, in one day, acts like he likes a certain girl and then sleeps with another one that night, just because he can. These characters throw caution to the wind. Why? Because the world doesn't understand them. Because the world isn't fair. Boo fucking hoo.
Besides the fact that these people are both so perfectly suited for each other, and, at the same time, so undeniably forced (the emphasized word) to coexist in the world of the play simply for the convenience of giving the playwright a story - and a self-important one at that, these characters are pathetic. They have dreams. But their vision of reality is so jaded. Because everything is either a fantasy that can't come true, or a reality that makes them want to commit suicide. There's no moderation. The play is oddly enough titled subUrbia. The capitalized "U" in the title says it all. The play wants to be clever, witty, relevant. In the end though, the "U" isn't explained. And these kids aren't from suburbia. I know suburbia. These kids are in some world where people hang out at the local convenient store, lying on the ground, bitching about the world (using words that isn't true to the characters' realities, or at least that confuse and contradict them), smoking pot in the woods in the back, empty beer bottles everywhere. All this with remnants of snow on the ground. If it's that cold, go inside. No one I know in a suburb would do this, and no one would be these characters. They're not "misunderstood youth" (I know some of those), they're just lazy bums who are worried about the future. Shut the fuck up and start living already. Try to find what you want to do. The safest and easiest place to do that is in college. Sure, it's expensive. But you can find SOMEWHERE to test your interests. There's compromise in life, sure. But say you can't move to New York City and become an artist. Say you know you'll starve to death. Why the hell can't you be an art teacher? Or work in an art gallery? Find what you love, and then try to incorporate that into a realistic job, lifestyle. Be reasonable, but try to find some enjoyment in life.
So in conclusion: no, stretch limos aren't cool. Who gives a shit if someone you hated in high school and who's now famous calls you up and wants to hang out? People from Bel Air would be insulted and pissed to be reduced to social stereotypes as much as poor, depraved kids from Compton would. We all feel, but we're not all entirely fucked up. Life is hard. Try to make it work. Don't be lazy and just bitch. DO something. At least then you've done something, instead of just glide through life as nothing. If you can't make a big difference, make a little difference. Remember: you can't win unless you play. So fucking play. Ok?