You're the one-night stand I can't get out of my head.
another nothing day. same old. same. old. i could have slept through today and absolutely nothing in the world would have changed. or do i know that for sure? if i had not hopped in the car and went to where i went with devito would something be different in my life right now?
maybe while i was gone someone from my past came and knocked on my door.
or maybe the choice i chose at some point of the day prevented me from dying.
or kept me from living.
or steered me away from my soul mate.
or set in motion the chain of events that would ultimately result in the end of the world. finally.
what if making a left instead of a right, or going to mobil instead of am/pm, made it so that someone turned right instead of left or go to am/pm rather than mobil and they met the person they are meant to be with. or their demise.
what does it matter. i had a whole plan for today and it hasn't worked out one bit.
maybe tomorrow i'll do what i'm supposed to.
1. Cynicism.
and so I thought to myself "why is it that certain people make me freeze up?" As I looked at her sitting on my bed I couldn't help to think about how badly I wanted to be sitting next to her, making her smile, having her think of me as interesting and curious to what my life was like. Is that selfish? Am I being a narcissist? Possibly.
But that doesn't take away from the attraction.
Every girl I've met has been the same. Shallow. Vapid. Not too much really going on inside there. Pretty faces are no substitute for petty thoughts. But I digress.
You are still sitting on my bed. I have no conversation to offer. I'm frozen. I've put you on a pedestal and I don't know how to bring you down. I should be telling you this in person but I don't know how. Were you a random person on a random night at a random party it would be different. But I know you. I know your story. I know what you'v been through and I know it hasn't been easy. I know that you are different and that scares me. Pursuing you would take me out of my confort zone. And the walls to that area are so thick it would take much more that a sense of infatuation to break them.
I took to long. You've decided to get up. I thought we shared a connection earlier but I guess I was wrong. I'd like you to know that you make me nervous.
But you are gorgeous.
I have to be at work at seven in the morning. why am i awake?
I want the good life. I want champagne and special treatment. I want to constantly be on my Blackberry checking e-mails about casting calls and shoot locations and date changes and costume questions and not just because I want to check my Facebook. I want people to ask my opinion on the new films that are coming out. I want Sundance. I want Tribeca. I want Cannes. I want assistants. I want to know what I'm talking about. I want desperate calls at 3 a.m. in the morning informing me that our lead actor was just arrested on Sunset for driving under the influence and possesion of a controlled substance. I want agents and lawyers and cut-throat managers. I want to be stressed. I want vacations in Europe and weekend trips across seas. I want period pieces and dark comedies. Dramas and documentaries. Independent. Studio. I want coffee and Variety in the morning. New York and Los Angeles. Big
talent and no names. I want to yell "Cut!" and "Action!" and "Let's do it again." I want my name in lights, credits and dvd cases. I want my own chair. I want fame and money and cars and houses and fans and controversy and tabloids and parties and work and research and clout and comfort.
I want to be happy.
c'moooonnnn words. i know you're in there.. don't be shy. just come out. there's nothing to be afraid of. i promise the world will embrace you. just be who you are. say what you want to say. let the shine on you and grow. i promise i'll treat you right. words, you're my only friend. without you i don't know where i would be right now. without you i don't what i would have done as a child. words, you kept me safe. words words words words words. words, you are like a metaphor for life and humanity. you are formed from individual letters, like individual people. and when you put several of you together you form a sentence, you form a community. and after many of these communities, you form a story, a whole world, created out of nothing. sadly your time is slowly coming to an end. television has become the bane of your existence, the glare blinding peoples eyes so they can't see what's written on pages. damn you television, with your talking heads that say nothing and reality television bringing down the human intelligence one stupid elimination at a time.
Johannes Gutenberg must be churning in his grave right now.
"Without a college education, I could, clearly, never hope to become a writer; would never acquire the skills which would enable me to conquer what was thought of as an all-white world. This meant that i would become a half-educated handyman, a vociferous, bitter ruin, spouting Shakespeare in the bars on Saturday night and sleeping it off on Sunday."
-James Baldwin(1924-1987)
rants. raves. random thoughts. my font just changed spontaneously. kinda scared. i'm really just doing this to get my mind off what i'm supposed to be doing. i think i'm just trying too hard and it's causing a block. once i get some words on the screen in some form then the words i really need to write sort of just end up flowing. i woke up late again today. but its okay. i just missed half an hour of economics. i don't really learn anything in that class anyway. a bunch of shit i should know, but don't really feel like learning. other people can learn it and i'll pay them to handle that aspect of life for me.
a lot of people dream of their dreams coming true. they hope and wish and pray and beg for their life to turn out like they want it to. they think maybe if they work hard and do things by the book, everything will fall in place for them. maybe maybe maybe maybe maybe maybe maybe someday.
suckers. i know it's going to happen for me.
that's another thing. i hate it when people do things by the book. i hate it when people know the rule book by heart. i hate regulations, boundaries, limitations and constraints. i hate it when people think that there is only one way to achieve a goal. to get somewhere. to live life.
by the book is boring. predictable. expected.
and if that ever becomes me, please shoot me.
I've always enjoyed making something appear out of nothing. A God complex maybe?
Who says it's a complex?
what i should be doing is writing a paper. what i should be doing is defending individuality in the face of social trappings. what i should be doing is reading up on the history of theatre. what i should be doing is analyzing how the fantastical, religious, and supernatural elements in 'Angels in America' effect the film as a whole. what i should be doing is figuring the necessary steps to transfer to a university as soon as possible.
what i should be doing is whatever it is i'm doing at this very moment.
i'm comfortable. i'm happy. i'm okay. i like myself. i mean that. i'm an optimist posing as a realist enjoying the cynical in the world.
i'm not a serious grown up mature person. i tried. i don't know how to do that shit.
i'm me. me. me. me. me. me. me.mememememe. and i like me.
apparently, other people do as well. i'll take that.
sometimes i rant and rave about non-sense that sometimes make sense, in a sense. and i sense that my words will make me dollars and cents. and since i'll have millions of cents, nothing i say will have to make sense. people with no sense will pay dollars and cents to have my words in their residence so they can impress their so-called friends by making sense out of my non-sense, so you're welcome ladies and gents.
lately. lately. lately.
lately i don't know what's been going on. what am i typing? what's happening? sometimes i want to pack up, break my phone, withdraw the bank account and disappear. that would probably be fun. but then i'd get bored about a day into it, start wondering if anyone is wondering where i am and say fuck it and go back. and i'd feel very silly about breaking my phone. anyway, whatever. ranting and raving.
oh if you only knew how many things i typed and deleted right about now.
could you really ask for anything else?
I don't even have anything interesting to really write about. I just like turning letters into words into sentences into paragraphs into pages into stories.
Maybe I'm a little (a lot-ttle?) narcissistic. Maybe I think the world revolves around me and everyone should know what's going on every second of my life. I had a Twitter for that reason, but there wasn't enough space to type. Maybe I have a middle child complex and crave attention. Maybe I should get that checked. Maybe I'm just bored at work and need a way to distract myself from the fact my new boss is constantly hovering over me, trying to catch me slacking. Maybe he has a good reason for it. Maybe writing is the only way I know how to really express my thoughts. Maybe I should get better at talking. Maybe I'm trying to make up for the fact I have a 'smart phone' but only use it for stupid shit. Maybe I'm avoiding writing about what's really bothering me. Maybe nothing is. Maybe I'm going crazy. Maybe I'm becoming sane. Maybe I've just had too much coffee. Maybe I should get back
to work. Maybe I should quit. Maybe I'm afraid of being forgotten. Maybe this is how I'm trying to leave me mark on the world. Maybe I don't really care. Maybe I care too much. Maybe, maybe, maybe, maybe. Maybe I should quit my belly aching.
Where are all the constants in life?
I just decided that I work way too much. It's really not even funny.
I feel like I'm always here. Or on my way here. Or on my way home from here, but I have to be back here super early in the morning.
Don't get me wrong. I don't mind the job. I work with awesome people. I get whatever schedule I need. They pay me waaayyyy too much for what I actually do. The customers can sick a duck, but that's a whole different entry(I'm coming after you muh' fuckers).
But it's just too much time spent here. I'm missing out on a lot outside of work. And for what? A fat pay check?
Yes.
Show me the money.
Oh how I love the crazies on the trolley.
"YOU'RE ALL A BUNCH OF NAZIS!!"
*whispering* "mother fuckin fuckers.. grumble grumble grumble"
"GET ME MY FUCKIN BOTTLE! fuckin fuckin fuck fucks.."
It's gonna be a good day at work.
A couple of nights ago the acoustic guitar came out. I wasn't playing it of course. I'm far from musically inclined. Luckily, I'm surrounded by those who are.
So Danny starts strumming, mostly non-sense at first. A song about Mel and nestea. Probably some cock and ball jokes, that's the way it usually goes. But then I hear a sound. A soothing sound. The sound of four chord familiarity. And it takes me back to easier days..
The days where pop punk, dickies, skateboarding, and backyard gigs ruled my world. When The Ataris, New Found Glory and Alkaline Trio taught me everything I needed to know about the world and girls. Before Hurley could be found at Macy's and only skateboarders wore skate shoes. When I spent the whole day at school but never in a classroom, at least not the one I was supposed to be in. When the things that we look back at now were actually happening. The spot. Fishing for 20 packs and smirnoff ice. Alfreds garage. Uranus. The beginning of long, rocky relationships for all us, that still define us in a way. These days were care free. These days were looked forward to. These days made us who we are. These days turned into these nights.
These days are long gone.
This was my junior year. And I'll never forget it. Unfortunately, nostalgia doesn't pay the bills...
yesterday morning my alarm went off at 7.20. I woke up startled, confused, kind of scared. I remembered setting the alarm, but that's it. I didn't know what day it was. I didn't know what I was supposed to be doing that day. I looked around trying to grab my bearings.
then I started remembering the previous week and how amazing it had been. Kings cup for the soul, rock bottom, brewer's cobb salad(with balsamic vinagrette), making an amazing new friend, staying up talking to said friend until 4.30 in the morning. twice. the best birthday party. ever. apples 2 apples, not sober. rap battles. princess pub. "I'm still deleting you from facebook."
no sleep.
after about ten minutes of memories racing through my head, I eventually came to the part where I set my alarm.
it's monday again. gotta get to class.
fuck.
..I'm an idiot. Of course theyve made it easy to blog mobily.. life makes sense again.
for me at least.
i can post from my blackberry! woo.. and yet another form of feeding my addiction to this piece of technology..
they could at least make a blogspot.mobile application..
another attempt at baring my soul. i've tried this many times. never really get more than two posts before totally forgetting about it. and i always start with saying that this is my umpteenth attempt at this so hopefully this time blah. blah. blah.
the definition of insanity is doing something over and over and expecting different results.
makes sense.
you ever have to make a very hard decision? a choice that will ultimately change the course of your life, in one way or another? ...i guess every decision you make will ultimately change your life somehow, but that's not what i'm talking (writing?) about. i'm talking about the choices that keep you up at night. the ones that won't even give you a second to think about something else. the decisions that aren't even really a decision at all because you know what the correct one is, you just have to come to terms with it.
this is the feeling i think some people get when you ask what kind of bag they want for their groceries.
i guess sometimes the easiest choices are really the hardest ones.
aaaaanyway... let's see how long i can keep this up!
peace.
