It can't even be a storm without lighting.
Goodbye New York. Hello Miami. Could we be in more of an opposite place. We left behind tall buildings and cold weather for sand and stifling humidity. The weather's only unbearable between 11am and 5pm. Before and after that it's unearthly amazing. And it smells like laundry detergent when it rains. For real. I always smelled those rain scented detergents and wondered where the hell they got the idea that rain smelled like that. Well, now I know.
About an hour after I was enchanted by the smell of rain here, I realized that Soul Asylum had it right all along. Every little thing about this tells me nothing out there is ever going to help me.
All my life, I'd been waiting for life to happen. Everyone kept telling me that the best part was coming up. When you're a kid, they tell you middle school is going to rock your socks. I got there and really didn't do any rocking. In fact, it did so little rocking and so much of the same stuff elementary had done that I ended up crying everyday until my mother pulled me out to be home schooled until high school. And high school, I was told, would be the best days of my life. At the time, I thought that was the most depressing sentiment I'd ever heard. High school was awesome, sure, but would it be the best? What about everything after?
Well, now I know. College, which of course was going to somehow be better than the best days of my life, is something I could never do right. And being an adult is something I'm just not very good at. I always thought being happy was important. That it was something to strive for. And when you're a kid people will tell you that you can do anything you put your mind to. What they don't really tell you is how that only works if you're really lucky.
I'm not really lucky. I'm only averagely lucky. Which amounts to absolutely nothing. You only means something if you're unlucky or lucky. Average gets you nothing anywhere. Average gets you a life of mediocrity. But it's all good, right? You'll still get to sit around and watch the people around do the things you always dreamed of doing. You just need to tone down your dreams. Learn to be okay with getting a repetitive job that pays you enough to pay rent. You'll eventually get accustomed to the idea of giving your life away to someone else. Eight hours a day, five days a week, that only amounts to most of your life anyway. You've still got about seven hours a day, wait, make that five after you take into account travel time to work-- no, make it four if you count how long it takes you to get ready... or maybe just two or three when you think about everything else you have to do (cleaning the house, making dinner, going to the store...). And who needs time to themselves anyway, right? Not you. All those things you want to do? Play videogames, draw stupid pictures, write silly, angsty stories that no one reads-- they're all pointless. You're not lucky. You're just mediocre. It'll never amount to anything.
Because real life is hard. You make a lot of sacrifices so that when you're old and have forgotten about everything you wanted to do before, you can finally stop and breathe. That is as long as you didn't fuck up. If you fucked up, you can forget about retirement. Welcome to working until you motherfucking die.
So, cheers to life. Thank you, God, for this beautiful world we live in. And thank you, Society, for building an organized, ordered system and planning out our days for us. And here's to capitalism for putting real value on a human life. And congratulations to you, Mr. Brightside, for finally realizing your place in everything. You've got to stick around for at least a few more years. Otherwise, who would feed the cats?
About an hour after I was enchanted by the smell of rain here, I realized that Soul Asylum had it right all along. Every little thing about this tells me nothing out there is ever going to help me.
All my life, I'd been waiting for life to happen. Everyone kept telling me that the best part was coming up. When you're a kid, they tell you middle school is going to rock your socks. I got there and really didn't do any rocking. In fact, it did so little rocking and so much of the same stuff elementary had done that I ended up crying everyday until my mother pulled me out to be home schooled until high school. And high school, I was told, would be the best days of my life. At the time, I thought that was the most depressing sentiment I'd ever heard. High school was awesome, sure, but would it be the best? What about everything after?
Well, now I know. College, which of course was going to somehow be better than the best days of my life, is something I could never do right. And being an adult is something I'm just not very good at. I always thought being happy was important. That it was something to strive for. And when you're a kid people will tell you that you can do anything you put your mind to. What they don't really tell you is how that only works if you're really lucky.
I'm not really lucky. I'm only averagely lucky. Which amounts to absolutely nothing. You only means something if you're unlucky or lucky. Average gets you nothing anywhere. Average gets you a life of mediocrity. But it's all good, right? You'll still get to sit around and watch the people around do the things you always dreamed of doing. You just need to tone down your dreams. Learn to be okay with getting a repetitive job that pays you enough to pay rent. You'll eventually get accustomed to the idea of giving your life away to someone else. Eight hours a day, five days a week, that only amounts to most of your life anyway. You've still got about seven hours a day, wait, make that five after you take into account travel time to work-- no, make it four if you count how long it takes you to get ready... or maybe just two or three when you think about everything else you have to do (cleaning the house, making dinner, going to the store...). And who needs time to themselves anyway, right? Not you. All those things you want to do? Play videogames, draw stupid pictures, write silly, angsty stories that no one reads-- they're all pointless. You're not lucky. You're just mediocre. It'll never amount to anything.
Because real life is hard. You make a lot of sacrifices so that when you're old and have forgotten about everything you wanted to do before, you can finally stop and breathe. That is as long as you didn't fuck up. If you fucked up, you can forget about retirement. Welcome to working until you motherfucking die.
So, cheers to life. Thank you, God, for this beautiful world we live in. And thank you, Society, for building an organized, ordered system and planning out our days for us. And here's to capitalism for putting real value on a human life. And congratulations to you, Mr. Brightside, for finally realizing your place in everything. You've got to stick around for at least a few more years. Otherwise, who would feed the cats?