ugh
things in chicago are good. my entire time here has been a struggle to reconcile the ol' fluttering soulbirds (emotionalus aviatus, according to mr. buber) with the simple facts of the case. not to dance too much in the world of objectivity, but. i moved here with my best friend to be close to my bestest friend. i've made a fair amount of friends since i moved here. i am getting paid "poverty wages" ($200 a week for > 40 hours of work, standard, if ya were wondering) that still allow me to live in a comfortable apartment and partake of various leisure activities.
i was going to write about happiness, especially after having several long discussions on it recently and reading an old friend's livejournal post on the same topic. but i don't think i am ready to.
i am content. i still cry randomly with little provocation, sometimes alone, sometimes in the company of others. i am well and am inspired by what people are doing on a daily basis on small levels. i still find myself gripped by an utter hopelessness for the human race on a bi-weekly basis. i love playing music. i hate playing music. my job is boring. my job is useful. i miss my old friends and know they miss me. sometimes i feel like my old friends don't think about me at all. i am in love. i am lonely. i am ready for something new. i want to be part of something sustained and constant and eternal.
i do not think all of these are incompatible. here's to life.
walking down thirty-fifth, i've got a devil on my shoulder.
every step i take, he gets louder, i get nothing but older.
and where have my angels gone? same place my good intentions went.
but i've found a lover, and my friends are heaven sent.
life'll pick you up. life'll throw you down.
life'll give you hand, and it'll watch you drown.
but whether or not it treats you well, boy,
you'd better learn to laugh like hell.
what did this devil say? he asked, have you heard the news?
your friend has found his demons - tried to cut'em loose.
he found a bottle of tequila and put his head in a noose.
all the time, those demons danced and those demons yelled: "tell us! what's the use?"
(chorus)
i was going to write about happiness, especially after having several long discussions on it recently and reading an old friend's livejournal post on the same topic. but i don't think i am ready to.
i am content. i still cry randomly with little provocation, sometimes alone, sometimes in the company of others. i am well and am inspired by what people are doing on a daily basis on small levels. i still find myself gripped by an utter hopelessness for the human race on a bi-weekly basis. i love playing music. i hate playing music. my job is boring. my job is useful. i miss my old friends and know they miss me. sometimes i feel like my old friends don't think about me at all. i am in love. i am lonely. i am ready for something new. i want to be part of something sustained and constant and eternal.
i do not think all of these are incompatible. here's to life.
walking down thirty-fifth, i've got a devil on my shoulder.
every step i take, he gets louder, i get nothing but older.
and where have my angels gone? same place my good intentions went.
but i've found a lover, and my friends are heaven sent.
life'll pick you up. life'll throw you down.
life'll give you hand, and it'll watch you drown.
but whether or not it treats you well, boy,
you'd better learn to laugh like hell.
what did this devil say? he asked, have you heard the news?
your friend has found his demons - tried to cut'em loose.
he found a bottle of tequila and put his head in a noose.
all the time, those demons danced and those demons yelled: "tell us! what's the use?"
(chorus)