Picture this: It's a hot day. I mean really hot. I mean the rays of the sun were predestined to be pressure cooking the asphalt just as I think it's a great idea to throw on a sweater for the day. Soon to follow is a nice tall(BIG) glass of cool water. So cool that if it had on a pair shades I'd deem it Fonzi the Refreshed. Why yes I did just personify my thirst quenching savior. Why are you giving me that look? What is that look you may ask? The one that has disrupted my salivating glands' newest obsession. They aren't that happy with you right now. The one that irks me so much that my skin crawls off my body in search of a more stable/less disastrous environment. People are less likely to feel my wrath there. Rant ensued.
This look that has perturbed me is one that throws off my entire mood. It's a look described as one of uncertainty that I most often mistake for one of snootiness or scoffing. It's a look that I will blend with nails and force feed it back to you on the rocks with a bendy straw. So yes this scoffing uncertain look of snoot drives me wild. Why you may ask? Why?? Because that glass of water is half-empty. Half fucking empty and it's only evaporating; dissipating at the expense of my overall happiness. Weren't expecting that now were you? Don't worry I'm not ranting about being negative. That shit happens all the time, but I usually overcome it instantly. I compare this glass of water to that look you just gave me. No matter what reason you give me, as in "I'm too tired, I wasn't paying attention, I'm sorry." Sorry doesn't cut it. I've already made a million judgments about you. Not to come to the conclusion that I think I'm better than you. No, that's immature and unnecessary. These judgments are one's of always thinking you'll be "sorry". Bump that. I'll just think you're a sorry person. Forever. Even when pigs fly. You're a pig. There, who's mature now.
I'm not sorry for the rambling. Trust me. I've just accepted that I'm angry sometimes. People make me angry. Therefore, the true cynic in me peeks out ready to play. This post may bring down the mood of the entire blog so far. I've made this statement before, but hell I just want to vent. Be prepared for a hellstorm of thoughts. Commence.
If you come at me with hopes or dreams or even a hint of an aspiration I'll hold that thought, toss it around, squeeze it like putty, and then mold it into what I think is realistic. You won't get a genuine congratulatory hug from me. I'll pat your back. Say "good job champ", when I really mean "Great job not sucking and contributing to society without killing someone". You're welcome. I've twisted and wrung out quite a bit of friendships with this thought process. They're still my friends, but they won't jump at an opportunity to hang out with me. I've deemed them unworthy of my time. Of course, the vice-versa rears its ugly forehead. I thought over the past few months that it's just me being a realist. Staying sane and not letting my head escape me. It's not floating away on my watch. Let's just say dreams don't stay as often as I'd like them to.
I've diverted from a life of dreaming and arrived at one filled with grays and scowling lips. Just entering college I had all the dreams in the world. I dreamed of so many possibilities. They were infinite. I had no plan prepared. I didn't care. Any time someone tried to pop my hot air dream balloon I just dreamed and inflated to rise my hopes and aspirations even higher. Now I have a "plan". This means I'm conducting research to follow a path I'm passionate about that I'm paying for with a handful of hopes, a smidge of maybes, and quite a dapple of "I don't knows". I'm scared as hell, but it's what I want and need. It's not every time in life that you come across a time when these occur at the same time. I'm trekking across half the U.S. in order to start over, while my friends stay behind still trying to figure things out. We're 22-23 year old kids. We're allowed to. Some could say I'm running to a new life of excitement. Some could say I'm running away from the mundane and routine. The others(ME) could say I'm running away from loves lost. For a guy who got the crash course in the area of intimacy and lack thereof entering college, I'm emotionally exhausted. Friends ask why I don't date more. My response is true."Ain't nobody got time for that".
The thing is I don't have time to get swallowed by another in a committed agreement to be nice and loving to one another. When I fall I fall hard. If I spend all of my time falling, how do I ever expect to rise up like phoenix? This is where my cynicism comes into play. These women are beautiful, brainy, busty, and did I say beautiful? Damn near more beautiful than sunrises. I automatically write them off not being good enough for me. The realization that I've come to is that I'm not even good for myself. I'm not in detest of me. I wouldn't date me at the moment. I have nothing figured out. I'm Ben from The Graduate. People keep asking me what I'm doing. "HELLO!! NO FUCKING CLUE!" I just don't want to know for once and be happy. Yes yes I know I need to figure out some sort of strategy for my life. Not there yet. I'm still learning the rules. Pardon me if I haven't mastered the art of living. Kudos to those who have. I condone your experiences and ideas. You have my appreciation. Snaps!
Usually I end these posts with some sort of self-realization. Not this time. This is mistake number 16 on my way to success. Consider this one on repeat. I'm tired. Not just from being up till 2:45am. I'm tired from being tired of my situation. Time to shake and bake on some potential moves.
You can't catch me now. I found my dream cloud.
Rev Out.
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