Die a hero, or live long enough to see yourself become the villain

I'm probably thinking way too much to come across as coherent on any level but I just feel like typing and typing and not stopping because this is the only thing that makes me feel remotely okay. It felt like I just snapped into a waking coma all of a sudden. I don't feel anything. I'm not happy, sad, angry... if anything I guess I'm just concerned. Overly concerned. That's how I feel I guess, really worried but I don't know about what. There's just an overwhelming sense of concern right now and not knowing why is worse than actually having something to focus on because now I'm focusing on everything, which consequently leads me to be focused on absolutely nothing at the exact same time. It's a wonderfully fun paradox. I'm jittery like I can't sit still. More than usual. My brain is pulsing in dark and light flashes and it's scary and confusing at the same time. I feel like this is going crazy. I wondered what it would feel like to go insane and this seems like what it would be. I feel like walking around in the rain, but it's a nice clear night. Maybe I just need a walk to clear my head.. or fill my head with something I can think about for longer than ten seconds. I need to sleep. Sleep cures most. I'll wake up and forget all this was happening. Good luck to me.

Hypocritical Oath

Reading other people's blogs makes me feel inadequate sometimes. Not always, mind you. Some blogs out there are as pointless as can be (I'm sure the argument could be made for all of mine as well.) I try to post creative writings of some sort, something that could entertain someone on some of my blogs. Others are more for me than anyone else, like my photoblog. It's nice to be able to share the pictures with people when we do things together, but I like having a photo record of all the things I did that I can look back on later in life. I'm sure I'll be really happy that I did it since I already am.

Anyway, back on point, I've been reading the blog of a medical student that has chronicled his four years of medical school and now his residency. I know these people exist out there but reading his words and seeing how similar we think about things really makes me feel like I've made horrible decisions about my life. I think this on a regular basis anyway, but here I am at 24 in my mom's house with a crappy job (or no job?) at a camera shop working my way through years of college I should have finished when I was 20. Not growing up is only an attractive quality in rock stars and actors who can afford it. When you're someone like me, you're not getting cooler, you're just getting older. I don't take chances and I've been spoiled with the luxuries of living rent-free and having food in the house that I don't have to buy. It seems nice, but if I were forced to move out or pay rent or anything along those lines, I think it would make me a better person and help push me in the direction that I can't seem to push myself.

This is another thing that I always wonder "why can't I make the change if I can realize the problem??" And I don't know. I just need to go. I know people say this all the time, but I just need to move out, go somewhere unkown and start new. I would love to move to New York and just live however I can. It would be more like life than what I'm doing here.

Or would it? Is "living" really fulfilling societal standards of getting that degree that says you put in your time at some overpriced institution that really only taught you about meeting smart girls and drinking large amount of alcohol followed by acquiring a middle class job that takes up most of your time in adulthood? I feel like I've lived this summer already, taking camping trips and making the most of my days when I have the opportunity.

Perhaps my lifestyle is based on my ingrained sense that I won't live to an old age. Or maybe I'm just procrastinating growing up like I procrastinate everything else. That's all for now. Off to live a little.

When Your Heart Stops Beating

It's 11AM on the day of my first show with my new band, Argyle Gargoyle. I'm not nervous at all right now, I just think I'll mess up a few times. It won't even really matter probably because no one will notice unless it's really bad. I need a personality when I play bass. I usually just stand there because I'm concentrating on what I'm doing. I still remember someone, I think Tracy, telling me that I look pissed off when I play. That was from the Forty West show though and that was a long time ago. I'm much more confident now. I think we're ready, I just wish I did more in the band. I want to write songs. I've written so many things I want to put them out there in more than poetry form. The show is gonna sneak up on me today I think. We're going to see The Dark Knight in about an hour and after the movie is over it will be almost time to leave and get to the venue. Oh well, I think I'm ready.

I'm always afraid I'm not doing something right.
I'm always trying to get back some part of my life I think I missed.
I don't want to die young, but I've always had this feeling.
I'm shedding the skin I was born in.
Not sure if I want to know what's underneath.
I'm looking for the same thing you are.

It's way too easy to fake that smile

I've been on a winding mountain road of emotion lately. (There's no way to describe your emotions generally without sounding cheesy and cliche.) Just when I get comfortable with one thing, there's a sharp curve and a steep incline to test my engine. Every once in a while I just have to pull over and look under the hood to see if I'm really gonna make it to the other side. Some nights I just run out of gas, like last night. I treat my life like I treat a squeaky wheel though, I just turn up the music so loud that I can't hear it. Eventually that wheel's gonna fall off, but I'd rather ignore it for now and keep enjoying the ride. When the music shuts off though, that's all I can hear. The squeaky realization that something isn't right and I should have done something about it a long time ago before I was on this deserted road with no service station for miles. Luckily someone just happened to be traveling the same road in the dark with me and helped me put that squeak to rest for a while longer.

Or did she? As down as I was feeling last night, I felt better by the time I came home. I was back in my seat of complacency, ready to eat a hot pocket and go to bed watching Curb Your Enthusiasm. I don't even know what it was that set me off yesterday. There was nothing bad that happened, but when I got onto high street and started walking around it just hit me. I was looking at all the places I had been and thinking about people. We walked by the Oarhouse and Dave's old house, which made me think I'm going nowhere in life. I know I'm working on my degree but I'm twenty four and Dave has live on his own for years and owns a house now. I try to make myself feel better by thinking about the people I know with bachelor's degrees that don't have real jobs or live out of their parent's house yet but it still doesn't help. I realize I don't do anything to better my situation. Right now I should be filling out a FAFSA and looking for loans because half of my school payment is due in less than three weeks. I don't want to fuck this up, I need to go to school and get it over with.

Sometimes I miss what I had. Or could have. But it's not worth it anymore is it? I think I kept it going for so long because I thought one day I would lose the desire to be with anyone else and things would be perfect. It was such a domestic existence a lot of the time, I'm surprised I was so okay with living it. But I was. I didn't mind just sitting around watching movies as long as we got to go on a trip every now and then. I don't know if it's fear of commitment or if it really is just that we're not right for each other, but it always seemed weird to be away for too long. I felt like this time I could really be comfortable being away from her and maybe I can but there are moments like these when I miss that touch. It's a feeling that I haven't gotten from anyone else. It feels good, just happy. It feels like joy, as corny as that sounds. Laying with someone else in bed never felt anything like it. We just fit. Even after everything sexual, I still wanted to be there. Just sleeping with her was always great. Not that I don't miss the sexual stuff too, because that was always incredible. I would think there has to be something with someone that you have so much sexual chemistry with. Maybe it's because it's been so long we just have each other figured out, but everything was always perfect and amazing. That must count for something, right?

So why am I so conflicted? I am immature. Little things set me off. If there's an argument, I don't usually make the first move, I wait. And if a move from them never comes, I go on. That's who I am. For better or worse. Or worse. I'm just afraid that by the time I figure out who I really am and what I really want, there won't be anyone around to share it with.