I'll sleep when I'm dead...which may be in about an hour.
It's so early in the morning, but I can't go to sleep because I already freaking have. Apparently I was exhausted today, but hell if I know why! Thinking back there were sooo many things I could have done with my day to make it a million times better, but now all opportunity lost. Promises were broken in all directions today, and I fucking hate myself. Few things are worse than disappointment and regret, especially when aimed at oneself.
Yesterday I took a walk around Barrett Parkway. Not only was I sick of being cooped up, but the weather actually had a cool bite to it making it more pleasant to be out than normally. Justin's apartment is in a great spot because it's so close to anything and everything, but the good places to walk are all across the street. That's fine and dandy as long as you don't mind running across six lanes of traffic in .29 seconds, because that's how long the little crosswalk man gives you. Basically, you either have to shoot yourself out of a cannon or make the cars wait for you, which is both dangerous and irritating for the drivers. Alas, I have no cannon nor am I a circus freak anyways, so I opt for the third sprinting option: this means you still have to make the drivers wait, but since you're running at breakneck speed they at least see that you're trying your darndest to get out of their way and are therefore less irritated. ANYWAYS, I was wandering around this intersection yesterday and during my stroll it occurred to me that the chances or someone I know seeing me being a stupid vagabond were increasing with every car that passed by (which would happen at a rate of about 5 cars a second, on average...I would guess.) As fate would have it, I got a wall post on Facebook yesterday evening from an old friend of mine from middle school who has since been to high school and college in New York but is working in town for the summer. And he recognized me! And he waved! And I was a cunt and didn't see him! Oh the calamity of it all, it cracks me up. The moral of the story is: if you want to catch up with old friends just hang around a busy intersection and the friends will come to you!
You know that joke Eddie Izzard tells about how firetrucks keep a bag of cats with them at all times? It's so they can throw cats out the truck window one at a time while they're on their way to a fire. This creates the "MMMMEEEEEEEEEeeOOooooooooooooooow" sound while they're whizzing by, also known as the Doppler Effect (I think.)
Oh my god. I started doing something else for a second, and when I came back to that paragraph I had no idea where I was going with it. Oh - My - Jesus - Christ.
If you're ever bored, just listed to Johnny Cash and imagine what Justin would be saying if he were listening to Johnny Cash, too. I like Mr. Cash and all, but Justin sure as hell wouldn't and the terrible things he would be saying to make fun of this particular song I'm listening to would just crack me up to a very certain end. That end is the "next" button on my ipod. That reminds me of the Jesus movies I could be watching right now if I had the strength to make it to the TV downstairs and find the right channels. Most mornings I come into the office and Marc has a new story to tell me about this movie he watched on priestly channel 7 at a god-awful (no pun intended) hour of the morning when he couldn't sleep. They're fun stories that make me want to read the bible, but I haven't put forth the effort of finding said movies yet, nor have I re-applied the effort of reading the bible more thoroughly. Will either happen ever? I hope so.
So far, this journal has been comprised of nothing more than empty thoughts. I want my journals to be filled with meaningful thoughts, important thoughts, and deep thoughts. I don't like this entry, nor do I like most of mine at all. It's not the simple surface matter of my brain that I want to live in the infamy of my online journal, but the ones that matter. A thought "matters" if it's something that I would want to remember 50 years from now. Maybe by recalling my surface thoughts, 70-year-old Andrea would be able to associate those thoughts with the appropriate time period and then recall the rest of what was going on during her life then. But the point of this thing is to assume that I won't remember the important stuff, right? So what's important.
This past week has been a very tragic one for the world as I know it. A friend's friend died, another friend broke up with his girlfriend, and still another friend is very very emotionally and socially distraught. Speaking of social, this week will end with an experiment on that topic, and chances are it'll prove to be a good show. If meeting an old friend that you messily parted from a while back isn't interesting enough, why not go visit an abandoned insane asylum with them and see if accidentally crapping in your pants from fear makes the experience any better? Throw a few additional people into the mix to add to the tension/overall potential of the evening, and you've got yourself a regular meth party (minus the meth and plus a few circumstances that could probably incite similar side effects [not including death]). On a completely different note, still still another friend is trying to out-do me in their relationship age gap. Friend, I wish you the best of luck. The only opinions that matter on that issue are yours and hers, and she obviously doesn't care. Just like me. In fact, I kinda like it. So go forth and be merry, and I hope you end up as happy as I am. You can't be happier, sorry. It's impossible :)
I think I know how Sam felt when he learned that his car was actually a robot from outer space. Or how Harry Potter felt when he learned that he was a wizard. Or how Kevin Keene felt when he was summoned to save Videoland. I know I'm not jaded but that most people are, and it's this fact that allows me to feel like I have unexpectedly achieved an immeasurably amazing dream. A lot of people would look at me and shake their heads and say "Just you wait." It would be stupid and predictable and maybe potentially all the more tragic for me to argue, so instead I will remain internally optimistic. The fate that has captured everyone else I know does not have to be meant for me as well. (How lucky would I be...and why the hell me? But me all the same!)
Oh holy shit I'm excited for August 19th! I can't believe next week is the first of August, and that only a couple of weeks later I get to see Brendan again. I could be plenty distracted until that point, blissfully making time fly by, but my mind will relentlessly remain single-thoughted I'm sure. I can't thank the time-mage enough for bringing me to the point I'm at now (nor the everything-else-mage, for that matter!)
It's 3:30. I just returned a Myspace message that I had been putting off and my journal is lengthy and not completely worthless. Therefore, I have been productive. Now maybe I can go back to sleep. Good morning, moon.
Yesterday I took a walk around Barrett Parkway. Not only was I sick of being cooped up, but the weather actually had a cool bite to it making it more pleasant to be out than normally. Justin's apartment is in a great spot because it's so close to anything and everything, but the good places to walk are all across the street. That's fine and dandy as long as you don't mind running across six lanes of traffic in .29 seconds, because that's how long the little crosswalk man gives you. Basically, you either have to shoot yourself out of a cannon or make the cars wait for you, which is both dangerous and irritating for the drivers. Alas, I have no cannon nor am I a circus freak anyways, so I opt for the third sprinting option: this means you still have to make the drivers wait, but since you're running at breakneck speed they at least see that you're trying your darndest to get out of their way and are therefore less irritated. ANYWAYS, I was wandering around this intersection yesterday and during my stroll it occurred to me that the chances or someone I know seeing me being a stupid vagabond were increasing with every car that passed by (which would happen at a rate of about 5 cars a second, on average...I would guess.) As fate would have it, I got a wall post on Facebook yesterday evening from an old friend of mine from middle school who has since been to high school and college in New York but is working in town for the summer. And he recognized me! And he waved! And I was a cunt and didn't see him! Oh the calamity of it all, it cracks me up. The moral of the story is: if you want to catch up with old friends just hang around a busy intersection and the friends will come to you!
You know that joke Eddie Izzard tells about how firetrucks keep a bag of cats with them at all times? It's so they can throw cats out the truck window one at a time while they're on their way to a fire. This creates the "MMMMEEEEEEEEEeeOOooooooooooooooow" sound while they're whizzing by, also known as the Doppler Effect (I think.)
Oh my god. I started doing something else for a second, and when I came back to that paragraph I had no idea where I was going with it. Oh - My - Jesus - Christ.
If you're ever bored, just listed to Johnny Cash and imagine what Justin would be saying if he were listening to Johnny Cash, too. I like Mr. Cash and all, but Justin sure as hell wouldn't and the terrible things he would be saying to make fun of this particular song I'm listening to would just crack me up to a very certain end. That end is the "next" button on my ipod. That reminds me of the Jesus movies I could be watching right now if I had the strength to make it to the TV downstairs and find the right channels. Most mornings I come into the office and Marc has a new story to tell me about this movie he watched on priestly channel 7 at a god-awful (no pun intended) hour of the morning when he couldn't sleep. They're fun stories that make me want to read the bible, but I haven't put forth the effort of finding said movies yet, nor have I re-applied the effort of reading the bible more thoroughly. Will either happen ever? I hope so.
So far, this journal has been comprised of nothing more than empty thoughts. I want my journals to be filled with meaningful thoughts, important thoughts, and deep thoughts. I don't like this entry, nor do I like most of mine at all. It's not the simple surface matter of my brain that I want to live in the infamy of my online journal, but the ones that matter. A thought "matters" if it's something that I would want to remember 50 years from now. Maybe by recalling my surface thoughts, 70-year-old Andrea would be able to associate those thoughts with the appropriate time period and then recall the rest of what was going on during her life then. But the point of this thing is to assume that I won't remember the important stuff, right? So what's important.
This past week has been a very tragic one for the world as I know it. A friend's friend died, another friend broke up with his girlfriend, and still another friend is very very emotionally and socially distraught. Speaking of social, this week will end with an experiment on that topic, and chances are it'll prove to be a good show. If meeting an old friend that you messily parted from a while back isn't interesting enough, why not go visit an abandoned insane asylum with them and see if accidentally crapping in your pants from fear makes the experience any better? Throw a few additional people into the mix to add to the tension/overall potential of the evening, and you've got yourself a regular meth party (minus the meth and plus a few circumstances that could probably incite similar side effects [not including death]). On a completely different note, still still another friend is trying to out-do me in their relationship age gap. Friend, I wish you the best of luck. The only opinions that matter on that issue are yours and hers, and she obviously doesn't care. Just like me. In fact, I kinda like it. So go forth and be merry, and I hope you end up as happy as I am. You can't be happier, sorry. It's impossible :)
I think I know how Sam felt when he learned that his car was actually a robot from outer space. Or how Harry Potter felt when he learned that he was a wizard. Or how Kevin Keene felt when he was summoned to save Videoland. I know I'm not jaded but that most people are, and it's this fact that allows me to feel like I have unexpectedly achieved an immeasurably amazing dream. A lot of people would look at me and shake their heads and say "Just you wait." It would be stupid and predictable and maybe potentially all the more tragic for me to argue, so instead I will remain internally optimistic. The fate that has captured everyone else I know does not have to be meant for me as well. (How lucky would I be...and why the hell me? But me all the same!)
Oh holy shit I'm excited for August 19th! I can't believe next week is the first of August, and that only a couple of weeks later I get to see Brendan again. I could be plenty distracted until that point, blissfully making time fly by, but my mind will relentlessly remain single-thoughted I'm sure. I can't thank the time-mage enough for bringing me to the point I'm at now (nor the everything-else-mage, for that matter!)
It's 3:30. I just returned a Myspace message that I had been putting off and my journal is lengthy and not completely worthless. Therefore, I have been productive. Now maybe I can go back to sleep. Good morning, moon.