So I have been reading Bluebeard; thank you for that. I'm taking it in chunks because I like to read K.V. slowly and taste it. I didn't think I would, but you were right. I like it that you underlined parts in it because I can almost tell what you were thinking when I read those chunks, but I don't like "Potato BARN" written in places because I'm afraid you're going to give away the ending, if you haven't already. I didn't talk to you today because I didn't want to talk to ANYone today, and getting all those calls made me even more reclusive.
I started writing something after a huge brainstorm, and I sat at the page reworking about five sentences over and over again until it was just right. I intend this to be a novel, so I'm assuming that it'll be 2050 before it's done. At least when I'm doing that I'm not thinking about anything else, kind of like Rabo Karabekian's friends. Except I'm not watching how the paint falls on canvas. I'm lingering on words. I'm dodging my other obligations. But I guess that's not anything new. I'll fabricate something to do instead of face the real problems directly.
I got carpet in my room today. Finally. So I have a bed, which is always a good thing to have, and I have a desk. And a record player. Beatles records, Pauls Simon and Art Garfunkel reminding me of when my grandma would dance to Mrs. Robinson, singing in her old person voice and making me smile. (Some people's parents are as old as my grandma.) I've taken four boxes of miscellaneous hazerdous waste that has collected over the years and condensed it down to one. Who knows why I save the shit that I do. Whenever I used to pull it all out it did nothing but remind me of the best and worst times of my life and make me so nostalgic that I'd get nauseous, and end up getting pissed off at myself for choices, or pissed off that I couldn't be back in those times, or pissed off that I'm not as happy as I was then, or pissed off that I couldn't run a 4:25 mile now if my dirty life depended on it. I feel that getting rid of this stuff will just let my mind do what it will with all of those thoughts and feelings, and throwing the shit away is the best way for me to move forward instead of always looking back. Now, If I could just concentrate on getting through today more than thinking about tomorrow, I just might be okay. That sounds absolutely unauthentic, and it is. But it's true nevertheless.
The funny thing about heading toward your Twenties is that you think that they're going to be fantastic. At least I thought they would be. Sure, I've had some pretty fantastic times. Maybe twice a year, when I'm drunk enough to forget myself, but not drunk enough to misplace myself. I thought you were supposed to enjoy these times? Fuck these times. People just leave. That's all people ever do is just leave. Maybe that's just the Midwest, I dunno. Suddenly I feel a longing to be in an episode of Cheers. SINGINGsometimesyouwannago where everybodyknowsyourname*.
Let's do a quick recap of my adult life. Here we go. Graduate high school, with honors.(+) Get into U of M, move to Detroit (+) Working at Meijer (-) Move to East Lansing to be with Larice once again, failing out of MSU miserably after only a year. (-) 7-11 (-) We break up, I move home because I'm no longer in school. Work various mindless jobs for this period.(-) Get an apartment in Lansing for a year with Angie doing absolutely nothing with myself. Chi-chi's. (-) Move to Naples for 6 months with Angie, working @ surf shop, cheats on me, do absolutely nothing with myself. (-) Move to Jacksonville for six months so I can establish residency and start school again, but I'm kicked out of my place with no money saved, so I have to move home. Still nothing. (-) Work the summer at Alma College as grounds crew. (-) Start at LCC (+) Working at gas station. (-) Slept with my best friends girlfriend, thus destroying every social tie that I have (–) First year, 3.8 gpa. (+) Working at gas station (-) Second year, 3.5 gpa (+) Working at P.F. Chang's (-) Apartment okay for the most part aside from my being fickle.(+/-)
I have a larger collection of name tags and hair nets than Wayne Campbell. My resume. Brilliant. I may be on the upswing. I don't know. School has been all right for the most part, but it's pretty discouraging when you're 24 and you've barely got 70 credits and you see 21 y/o kids graduating and moving off and doing great things.
A change of mindset is in order. Or a hefty kick in the balls. So what's done is done and I just needed to ramble so I can set this day in the past and leave it there. Cheers.