Do I turn INTO the skid or AWAY from the skid!?
Happy goddamn New Year.
I had a really amazing chat with my friend Matt the other night that lasted until 2:30AM, and I had enough revelations by the time it was over to have my own lifetime movie.
I was amazed at how much my life could be completely put into perspective by someone I never get to see, but who has known me sixteen years and can tell when I say I'm fine and I'm not... even when I believe that I am. I was amazed at how someone who TRULY knows me could look at my face and see right down to the bullshit I've been cramming into the deepest corners of my effing brainmeats hoping they'd get lost, and help me realize how to deal with them (and that I HAVEN'T been dealing with them thus far).
He also reminded me that I'm too fucking badass and awesome to feel that way. Go Matt. I'd die without him.
So this blog isn't going to be my normal goofy, bubbly, positive shit. I'm in a craptacular mood and am doing this instead of anything productive because I have some SHIT I need to get off my fucking chest.
Raise your hand if you've ever driven above 35mph on an icy road.
You're looking around thinking, "WHY can't all these dipshits find the gas pedal? Do we REALLY need to crawl along at 20mph? It's just a little bit of ice!"
As you sit there swearing under your breath about how everyone's an asshole but you, someone ALWAYS slams on their stupid brakes RIGHT in front of you.
Now let's talk about that feeling.
YOU slam on YOUR brakes.
Your speedometer continues to increase(?!) somehow.
You pump your brakes like those jackass 70s films you watched in Driver's Ed (ten fucking years ago! UGH.) told you to, even though your car HAS anti-lock brakes and you're just being a moron.
If you're me, this is the part where you scream, "FUCKINGSHITGODDAMNIT" while your scalding-hot coffee spills all over your lap because you knocked your hand into that bastard to-go cup on its way from texting in your lap (without looking because I'm a fucking NINJA) to grip the wheel so tight your knuckles burst through your damn skin.
You notice the amount of pavement between your car and that DILHOLE in front of you decreasing exponentially by the second, and you wonder if it's possible to still be maybe a liiiiiittle pretty once the airbag burns your stupid face off.
You glance down at the radio, thankful that if you're going to die anyway, at least Jeff Buckley's coming through your speakers AND waiting for you in the afterlife.
Oh, and your guts tie themselves in that fucking cat's cradle knot we used to do with giant pieces of twine at recess. You feel it from the very bottom of your ass all the way through your heart, which is beating so far out of your chest it's honking your fucking HORN.
THAT feeling has been my life for the last six months or so. That oh-fuck-I-was-way-too-confident-in-my-abilities-and-now-I'm-about-to-smash-my-idiot-cranium-into-something-that-will-obliterate-it-and-I-should've-fucking-known-better feeling.
Lots of assholes have been abruptly braking in front of me as of late.
You wanna talk New Year's resolutions? I resolve to not fucking give up and hit that asshole in front of me.
I resolve to turn INTO the fucking skid, end up on the sidewalk, shaken up but more alive than ever, and still make it to my fucking destination with a good fucking story to tell.
Fuck you, 2011. 2012 is going to be my "summer of George" if it fucking kills me.
I had a really amazing chat with my friend Matt the other night that lasted until 2:30AM, and I had enough revelations by the time it was over to have my own lifetime movie.
I was amazed at how much my life could be completely put into perspective by someone I never get to see, but who has known me sixteen years and can tell when I say I'm fine and I'm not... even when I believe that I am. I was amazed at how someone who TRULY knows me could look at my face and see right down to the bullshit I've been cramming into the deepest corners of my effing brainmeats hoping they'd get lost, and help me realize how to deal with them (and that I HAVEN'T been dealing with them thus far).
He also reminded me that I'm too fucking badass and awesome to feel that way. Go Matt. I'd die without him.
So this blog isn't going to be my normal goofy, bubbly, positive shit. I'm in a craptacular mood and am doing this instead of anything productive because I have some SHIT I need to get off my fucking chest.
Raise your hand if you've ever driven above 35mph on an icy road.
You're looking around thinking, "WHY can't all these dipshits find the gas pedal? Do we REALLY need to crawl along at 20mph? It's just a little bit of ice!"
As you sit there swearing under your breath about how everyone's an asshole but you, someone ALWAYS slams on their stupid brakes RIGHT in front of you.
Now let's talk about that feeling.
YOU slam on YOUR brakes.
Your speedometer continues to increase(?!) somehow.
You pump your brakes like those jackass 70s films you watched in Driver's Ed (ten fucking years ago! UGH.) told you to, even though your car HAS anti-lock brakes and you're just being a moron.
If you're me, this is the part where you scream, "FUCKINGSHITGODDAMNIT" while your scalding-hot coffee spills all over your lap because you knocked your hand into that bastard to-go cup on its way from texting in your lap (without looking because I'm a fucking NINJA) to grip the wheel so tight your knuckles burst through your damn skin.
You notice the amount of pavement between your car and that DILHOLE in front of you decreasing exponentially by the second, and you wonder if it's possible to still be maybe a liiiiiittle pretty once the airbag burns your stupid face off.
You glance down at the radio, thankful that if you're going to die anyway, at least Jeff Buckley's coming through your speakers AND waiting for you in the afterlife.
Oh, and your guts tie themselves in that fucking cat's cradle knot we used to do with giant pieces of twine at recess. You feel it from the very bottom of your ass all the way through your heart, which is beating so far out of your chest it's honking your fucking HORN.
THAT feeling has been my life for the last six months or so. That oh-fuck-I-was-way-too-confident-in-my-abilities-and-now-I'm-about-to-smash-my-idiot-cranium-into-something-that-will-obliterate-it-and-I-should've-fucking-known-better feeling.
Lots of assholes have been abruptly braking in front of me as of late.
You wanna talk New Year's resolutions? I resolve to not fucking give up and hit that asshole in front of me.
I resolve to turn INTO the fucking skid, end up on the sidewalk, shaken up but more alive than ever, and still make it to my fucking destination with a good fucking story to tell.
Fuck you, 2011. 2012 is going to be my "summer of George" if it fucking kills me.