Not finished

As soon as I hit the "Publish Post" button, I knew instantly I had more to vent about.

"I think for awhile, I'd just forgotten how to be happy."

Anybody else feel like shit all of a sudden? That "awhile" she was refferring to was that section in time when we were "together," so what the fuck does that say about me? I just wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Now all I have to do is sit here, commiserating, listening to and playing depressive music. Which is the only thing I've done, all fucking summer. I've got to stop this. Soon I'll be too busy to do feel anything.

Audition

You work so hard all summer. Did I say all summer, because I meant ALL summer. And then you blow it in three minutes. I knew the pieces. I rehearsed the pieces. I had them exactly how I wanted them. I had them memorized, so very close to verbatim.

And blew the audition.

Well, maybe I did something right, because I was called back for the show Blithe Spirit, which, while being the Homecoming play would be neat just because of the sheer numbers in the audience, also has the unfortunate condition of already having the one male part actually worth playing already cast. Not that I am about to complain about being cast. I'll take anything I can get whenever I can get it. I just think the competition was too fierce for me to land the lead role in Misery, the only other male role this semester, excluding Diversity Festival.

And LeaAnn has a boyfriend and Hillary has a date tonight. Shit.

Working

Feels nicer than I thought to finally be working again. And I can't deny the fact that I make good money there. Nothing like a few shifts waiting tables for some quick cash, eh? And I never realized how much I missed the companionship of the other servers during the down times. And its nice to have cash when you need it. Really nice. I've been waiting for so long to take care of things I want to, instead of worrying about whether or not I'm going to be able to eat. Things like guitar strings and developing pictures. Oh yeah, and school books. Don't forget school books. Those are always nice to have - you know, since school is starting soon and all.

And I finally found the play and character for that elusive second monologue, so its time to start working on those in force. I've done all the background work, time to get to the memorizing and performing. Good thing I don't have any neighbors yet. Mybe I'll take them to the theater and work on them onstage a bit. That will help, I think, as far as knowing what I need to do to fill the space.

Can't sleep. This is gay.

Hoarse

Excercising a horse. Isn't that just a fancy way of saying "riding" it whenever the hell I want to? Woohoo! I'm excited. And Steph better be, or I'll punch her. Horses AND a trampoline. The things I do for her...Not that I mind. You catch that Steph?! Huh? Did you?

*sigh*

But I'm still lonely. Sure, there are all kinds of people back in town now, just not the ones I want to be back in town. Like, the entire department minus my best friends. Maybe I've just been kidding myself all summer. Its not my friends I miss...its just two of them. I'm a bad person. Pfft. Whatever dude.

So, three years doesn't really matter. Highschool/College is the relevant transition. Doesn't matter what the age difference is, what matters, is the difference between highschool graduation and the first semester of higher education. It just sort of happens. People suddenly don't care about most of the stupid shit they used to care about. No, thats not right. Its just that the manner of dealing with it is different. And slightly more mature. I guess. And nobody is ever going to understand that until they make the transition themselves. You can't explain it, you can't prevent it, its just the way it is.

I've read so many different "coming of age" stories (Catcher in the Rye, A Separate Peace, The Perks of Being a Wallflower, To Kill a Mockingbird) and they all portray the age of coming, as it were, as somewhere between 15 and 18. Like it just stops after that. Like there are no more truly life-changing realizations after that singular turning point. Like your entire young life leads up to that one epiphany, and you are supposed to live your remaining years with the grasp you gain on the rest of your life. Thats like premature ejaculation...what are you supposed to do, ride through the rest of your life, slowly going limp, trying to pretend it didn't happen to avoid embarassment? So then what is left after that singular epiphany? I have yet to read The Multiple Orgasms of Personal Growth, leading to the question, do multiple realizations happen, or does the ceaseless search for answers turn into perpetual masturbation with no payoff?

Zombie Killer

If Zombies ever took over Portales, I'd be so ready. Guns are relatively ineffective against them, unless its a scattergun, and then they're really only good for keeping the damned things back far enough. Besides, I don't have any. But I would only have to get a couple of blocks away to retrieve a sword from Solomons. Now there is a zombie-control weapon. I mean, think about it, the only way to kill a zombie is to hack it to pieces, or burn it to death. So I can make it to Solomon's with aerosol hairspray and a lighter, plus a ripped off chair leg for extra precaution. An oilskin trenchcoat adds some protection against Zombie bites, and I can even wear a leather coat under that. They couldn't handle this.

I've been playing too many video games, I guess.

But I have a sword! And I freaking KNOW how to use it! Bring it, you Zombie-fucks, BRING it.

No noose is good noose...

CAR!! YAY!! Hahahaha!! What are the freaking odds? What are the freaking odds that my mechanic would go to the junkyard looking for parts for a 1993 Mazda Protege and they would have a 1993 Mazda Protege in BETTER freaking condition than my old one, with nothing wrong with it so much as a blown radiator?

I'M GETTING MY CAR BACK!!!

Ok, so its a different color. Ok, so the other one tried to kill me because I had the front half of it pretty much ripped off and the airbag didn't even deploy. So what. It's not a fucking Buick.

And as difficult as it was to swallow my pride and return to the Patch, I went and talked to Marci today, and I re-start work next Wednesday (probably). I hope its better. I hope so much its better. Not that I'll be working a whole bunch anyway when school starts. Argh! I'm so ready for class to start...except classes starting means that I have payments due for the semester. Not so good, nuh unh. Not so good at all. You know how much it sucks having no money and expensive habits. Not that they're harmful habits. Music, books, education...you know, stuff that is supposed to be good for you. *Sigh* Ah well.

Adaptation. Rent it. It's freaking brilliant. A movie about a guy who writes a movie based on a book, but he can't seem to make it work, so he winds up asking his jackass twin brother to help him, and then things get strange with drugs and affairs and alligators attacking strange herbologists with no front teeth and car wrecks with park rangers---fucking brilliant. It's artsy, therefore not one of those movies that just anyone can appreciate.

Cuiriosity

You know, if I wan't so picky, I [think] I'd be a lot happier.

By why the fuck am I complaining. For every time I've felt alone, for every time I've felt just too damned different, for every time there has been that urge to scream "Nobody will ever understand!" there is now this girl. We exchanged poetry last night, for chrissake. For whatever strange reason, we've been brought together only so far enough as to be held apart. Its like picking up a puppy so it can smell the bacon on the stove, but holding the thing inches away, no matter how much he struggles or whines, so the odor invades his nostrils, the scent driving him wild with how much he wants it.

And there it sits. Just out of reach.

We're just two lost souls swimmin in a fish bowl, year after year.

I wonder if that's a "We are," or a "We were."

Summer. Used to be the reason I lived. Summer. Full of infinite possibilities and endless days outside. Summer. Boredom. Summer. Bum. Now its so different. It's cram as much work into a day as you can so you can make enough money to get through the year with as little work as possible because you have to concentrate on your grades instead so you don't drop out and get a mediocre high school job with mediocre pay where you have to work eight to fourteen hours every day of the rest of your life just to make ends meet.

And suddenly you realize, you're going to school to be an artist -- an actor no less -- a degree that has fewer possibilities than a yes or no question and less chance of success than becoming the first ever kazoo playing rockstar.

What am I doing?