Woody Allen, John Cusack, and Chuck Klosterman walk into a bar...
I recently talked to Ryan about how I was going to craft an email for him and explain everything that was going on in my life. At the time this seemed like a fairly good solution, much like the blog being run between all of us friends. The problem I forgot to address, that he so bluntly mentioned in the conversation, was that we're both just honestly very busy people, even if not in the sense of actual work. Living, it would seem, is the sort of thing that tends to chew up a lot of time, especially when you don't belong to a common infrastructure with the individual in question. Effort it would seem is proportional to distance.
How much effort is required to penetrate sports grade Plexiglas? Is it more or less than is required to travel 250 miles? Why does it sometimes feel that in an age of instantaneous communication it's easier to communicate with an individual in Venezuela, than it is to communicate with those around us. I can walk down the quarter mile and not say hello to anyone, but to correspond with people all over the world is easier to me than making a phone call.
I find it funny how I haven't changed all that much since I was younger. I still can't make the approach to people I don't know. I can't talk to people that I crush on. I can't talk to girls I find pretty. I can talk to my greatest enemy and be tactful about it like it's my job. And all of this is utter fail. Because I'd rather screw my enemies and tell people how I really feel. Without a doubt I am completely self conscious about myself, and how I am perceived.
So, I realized that I have been completely vague up until here, and I should probably explain all of this before I end up just going further off on nothing with all of you wondering what the hell I'm talking about. (Speaking of things I'm talking about, it's not like anyone actually reads this). Maybe it's the rum talking, or maybe it's just me getting fed up with things, but I suppose I don't care if she were to actually read this. Maybe it's better it's out there, even if it's another puss out moved that Sara so rightly detested.
This quarter was posed to be the best quarter I've had in a very long time. Despite the requirements for US Social and Intellectual History and the requirements for Russian History to 1917, I was throughly on board with the entire concept of Foods of the World and Archery. Sure I had a ton of work to do, but I was thrilled that I was taking courses of interest to me. For the first time in a long time, I had come back to campus without a crush. It was a different sort of quarter. Sure I had some strange social circumstance regarding my ex, and the things I did on weekends were pry more unusual than most people, but no more so than the rest of the kids on this campus.
It was a very strange thing therefore, when around week 5, life decided it was going to start to slip out of my wonderfully self contained, self controlled grasp, and suddenly throw me back into the maddening abyss that is my emotions. To make it more blunt, I had developed a crush. This all started in the most peculiar of circumstances. Sure I had been perusing all quarter, look at how that one looks, look at how that one did her hair, or that outfit. It was all well and good, but some how this time, as is the case in too many scenario's as of the past year, I was swept off my feet by someone's personality. This had happened in the summer with Casey, which in retrospect was absolutely awful in terms of our age difference. Realistically, I realize that's not a feasible solution.
Very rarely in my life have I had someone ask to kick me. Normally, at least in my experience, people don't ask me to kick me. If they feel like kicking me, they do. In archery class, you rarely think someone is going to kick you. Generally speaking, you assume they're probably going to shoot you. So you can see how a person might be caught off guard by the idea that someone is going to kick you, especially when selecting a compound bow (let me just say I loved that bow).
And this is how I met her, in completely happy and insane state, she walked over, and pleasant as all day, smiled and said, "Can I kick you?". Well, I have to say, my instinctive response was no. Due to the completely random way in which this series of words was passed to me, I interpreted this as mild flirting, and responded with a maybe. Now, I'm not particularly good with the whole girls thing. It's not been an area of my life where I can say I've won a lot of battles, let alone the war. So, somewhere in my retarded mind, I decided, well hell, I'll play along, it could be fun. Turns out, 5 weeks later, it wasn't fun, it was merely masochistic. It was so much fun to be interested in her until I cared about the outcome. It was all just time on the range, all just time spent on the archery range before that. Then it was me making a fool out of myself, and bending backwards for a girl that probably just thought it was fun to see what she could make me do for her while she fawned over the TA. And the funny part is, after she blatantly told me, that she wasn't interested, I continued to screw myself over. I decided that I was going to try and help her with our TA. I decided that I wasn't past her even with this denial and that I was going to keep jumping through hoops. And for what? What sort of masochistic denial do I need to get over her. I want to her friend but this is all very difficult when you are hung up with feelings that don't make logical sense to begin with. Perhaps getting back to Albany will help rid me of this.
So, I've determined that Dashboard Confessionals are all about having, at least at one point, been in love. It's funny that I should listen to a band about something that I'm fairly convinced I've never been in. The truth is Dashboard Confessional isn't an emo band at all, rather they're a band about love. In some way therefore, every emo band is in truth about love. If deep down every song is about a girl, or about love, that means we either have a disproportional amount of emo music, or in fact all emo music is a subdivision of alternative that is in truth just more in tune with love than alternative rock.
So, here's the thing. I'm gonna stop here, and pick it up some other time, when my thoughts are deeper than a puddle.
How much effort is required to penetrate sports grade Plexiglas? Is it more or less than is required to travel 250 miles? Why does it sometimes feel that in an age of instantaneous communication it's easier to communicate with an individual in Venezuela, than it is to communicate with those around us. I can walk down the quarter mile and not say hello to anyone, but to correspond with people all over the world is easier to me than making a phone call.
I find it funny how I haven't changed all that much since I was younger. I still can't make the approach to people I don't know. I can't talk to people that I crush on. I can't talk to girls I find pretty. I can talk to my greatest enemy and be tactful about it like it's my job. And all of this is utter fail. Because I'd rather screw my enemies and tell people how I really feel. Without a doubt I am completely self conscious about myself, and how I am perceived.
So, I realized that I have been completely vague up until here, and I should probably explain all of this before I end up just going further off on nothing with all of you wondering what the hell I'm talking about. (Speaking of things I'm talking about, it's not like anyone actually reads this). Maybe it's the rum talking, or maybe it's just me getting fed up with things, but I suppose I don't care if she were to actually read this. Maybe it's better it's out there, even if it's another puss out moved that Sara so rightly detested.
This quarter was posed to be the best quarter I've had in a very long time. Despite the requirements for US Social and Intellectual History and the requirements for Russian History to 1917, I was throughly on board with the entire concept of Foods of the World and Archery. Sure I had a ton of work to do, but I was thrilled that I was taking courses of interest to me. For the first time in a long time, I had come back to campus without a crush. It was a different sort of quarter. Sure I had some strange social circumstance regarding my ex, and the things I did on weekends were pry more unusual than most people, but no more so than the rest of the kids on this campus.
It was a very strange thing therefore, when around week 5, life decided it was going to start to slip out of my wonderfully self contained, self controlled grasp, and suddenly throw me back into the maddening abyss that is my emotions. To make it more blunt, I had developed a crush. This all started in the most peculiar of circumstances. Sure I had been perusing all quarter, look at how that one looks, look at how that one did her hair, or that outfit. It was all well and good, but some how this time, as is the case in too many scenario's as of the past year, I was swept off my feet by someone's personality. This had happened in the summer with Casey, which in retrospect was absolutely awful in terms of our age difference. Realistically, I realize that's not a feasible solution.
Very rarely in my life have I had someone ask to kick me. Normally, at least in my experience, people don't ask me to kick me. If they feel like kicking me, they do. In archery class, you rarely think someone is going to kick you. Generally speaking, you assume they're probably going to shoot you. So you can see how a person might be caught off guard by the idea that someone is going to kick you, especially when selecting a compound bow (let me just say I loved that bow).
And this is how I met her, in completely happy and insane state, she walked over, and pleasant as all day, smiled and said, "Can I kick you?". Well, I have to say, my instinctive response was no. Due to the completely random way in which this series of words was passed to me, I interpreted this as mild flirting, and responded with a maybe. Now, I'm not particularly good with the whole girls thing. It's not been an area of my life where I can say I've won a lot of battles, let alone the war. So, somewhere in my retarded mind, I decided, well hell, I'll play along, it could be fun. Turns out, 5 weeks later, it wasn't fun, it was merely masochistic. It was so much fun to be interested in her until I cared about the outcome. It was all just time on the range, all just time spent on the archery range before that. Then it was me making a fool out of myself, and bending backwards for a girl that probably just thought it was fun to see what she could make me do for her while she fawned over the TA. And the funny part is, after she blatantly told me, that she wasn't interested, I continued to screw myself over. I decided that I was going to try and help her with our TA. I decided that I wasn't past her even with this denial and that I was going to keep jumping through hoops. And for what? What sort of masochistic denial do I need to get over her. I want to her friend but this is all very difficult when you are hung up with feelings that don't make logical sense to begin with. Perhaps getting back to Albany will help rid me of this.
So, I've determined that Dashboard Confessionals are all about having, at least at one point, been in love. It's funny that I should listen to a band about something that I'm fairly convinced I've never been in. The truth is Dashboard Confessional isn't an emo band at all, rather they're a band about love. In some way therefore, every emo band is in truth about love. If deep down every song is about a girl, or about love, that means we either have a disproportional amount of emo music, or in fact all emo music is a subdivision of alternative that is in truth just more in tune with love than alternative rock.
So, here's the thing. I'm gonna stop here, and pick it up some other time, when my thoughts are deeper than a puddle.