Tuesday, October 12, 2010

Eruption Pending

Once again, I may use some "swear" words here. You've been warned.

I came to realize: as far as my own life goes, the present sucks, and the future holds all the promise of Lindsay Lohan claiming to enter rehab. So, that leaves....the past.

High school, naturally. A time and place where I felt at home. Loved. I wasn't all that actively social at the time, something they attribute to Asperger's Syndrome (also their chosen explanation for why I feel like my home planet has much longer days and years than this one), but, by golly, I was kind, smart (then), full of friendly vibes and jokes. Nary an unkind word was said to me.

In the past.....I don't know how long.....weeks? months?, I've seen two or three familiar faces for about a minute at a time, maybe longer if we're on the bus. (People at my old job at the text conversion office, it's nothing personal; I dig you, but I haven't been feeling like I've been meant to be there. Only today did I finally convert a document after who knows how long.) The rest of the time, as I think I mentioned here earlier this semester, I've been feeling like a spectre in a sea of unfamiliar, basically indistinguishable faces bathing in cell phones and headphones. I especially feel it when I get out on the quad and jam on my acoustic. Headphones and cell phones. People may physically be there, but they might as well not be. It's like the old iPod commercials. Completely black shadows of people in headphones. No actual people. Just shadows.

I got no drive and no recognizable future. I already dropped one class this semester for a failure to get along with the professor (first time that's been the reason). I've wanted to leave academia altogether for a few years now, but then I won't have my text conversion job, because I have to be a student to work there for some reason. I've been all over Craigslist and other classifieds outlets, but nothing's appealed to me. I'm cat-less and dessert-less, though I haven't been that hungry the past few days anyhow, my traditional sense of humor seems to be largely slipped away, and, some hours ago as I lay kind of three-quarters asleep, my mother.....my proudly white suburban American mother, making it clear that she, too, has more or less hit a breaking point, proclaimed as loudly as possible that she hates me. (Talking to my father: "I HATE HIM, AND I HATE YOU!!")

So, that's the bag I'm in. I'm willing, but I'm having trouble finding my ability. I keep having ideas for songs and then never get around to fully writing them. I equate success with happiness and consider them independent of social class or anything like that. Either way, I am not successful right now.

I'm just kind of here. I'm around. Around, in a square hole. Or sticking awkwardly out of it, because I don't fit. And so I'm here. I'm here. I am here. I....am.....


*collapses in a heap of incoherence*

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