there's one thing i know, it goes like this
when i'm down and out, it's you i miss
this life is so static. i'm doing that magical thing again where i listen to piano soul and watch a muted pixies concert in hd. sometimes it's hard to get it to work. it's one of those nights. nights after days spent with my family where i'm lonely as hell but i can't stand waiting for everyone else to go to bed so i can be alone again. the voice in my head gives suggestions that i never feel like following. i didn't want to write earlier because i felt like i knew everything i was going to say... and anyway, it was before midnight. the voice is telling me to stop drinking this mountain dew and to do some pushups and find those freeweights and make something up. maybe later. this morning i'll wake up and hopefully make it to fuquay in time for lunch. come home again and visit some with family. drive back to winston and do more work. maybe not even see anyone (likely) before monday lunch. same thing over and over. i just want to get drunk and walk around campus in the dark talking.
what kind of goals are there to have? i'm too lazy to actually do anything important. i stay at school and do my work, have fun every now and then, get stressed and break down every once in a while, but do nothing. there's no progress there. all my life's goals are for the future. a couple months ago i wrote a short list of things to do before i die. an assumption was built in that i would live long enough but it still doesn't help that i haven't crossed any of them off. my mother told me about this actor/musician who was doing an interview and was asked if this was the life he wanted, what he'd dreamed of doing. the guy said no, this wasn't what he wanted to do, he wanted to do everything. that's me. maybe someday i will be a doctor but it won't be to help people and it won't be any sort of noble or kind but for the money. because the things i want to do before i die aren't free. i don't even really feel bad about that anymore.
a hole is free. the same time i was thinking about the cars and houses and sailboats and travels (and family), i was thinking about the hole. maybe this summer, i'll do it. find a corner of my backyard my dad won't find and start digging. at least it's for now. i'm not going to say... one day when i'm a radiologist making $300k a year, i'm going to dig a hole. that's not how it works. i can dig my hole now. i can see it developing and growing. i have this crazy vision of myself in old shoes and socks, shorts, white tshirt (optional), goofy bandana, and shovel. covered in dirt and standing in a waist-deep hole. sun beating down. skin cancer. exercise. must get ready for bermuda.
no, i can't do anything. i thought of this while thinking of the other stuff but i forgot to write it down. what is progressive? what is change? what is growing? i want to run away. i sat in my dorm room looking out at the sunny afternoon. the glowing remaining leaves, the icicles on the trees. i knew it was frigid but it didn't look it. it looked sixty-five and lovely. what's progressive? what kind of goal can you possibly look to accomplish? i could read the rest of this chapter about the minoans... or i could leave. i could drive. i've been east and south. that leaves north and west. you can go pretty far in either direction. i have three hundred dollars and six gallons of gas. that would be something. something. this is nothing. every breath i waste in this room is one not spent on the road to... {i hate that i can sit here and not think of anywhere i want to go}
if i stop thinking of her when i'm lonely and angry and go back to thinking of you... is that progress?
this life is so static. i'm doing that magical thing again where i listen to piano soul and watch a muted pixies concert in hd. sometimes it's hard to get it to work. it's one of those nights. nights after days spent with my family where i'm lonely as hell but i can't stand waiting for everyone else to go to bed so i can be alone again. the voice in my head gives suggestions that i never feel like following. i didn't want to write earlier because i felt like i knew everything i was going to say... and anyway, it was before midnight. the voice is telling me to stop drinking this mountain dew and to do some pushups and find those freeweights and make something up. maybe later. this morning i'll wake up and hopefully make it to fuquay in time for lunch. come home again and visit some with family. drive back to winston and do more work. maybe not even see anyone (likely) before monday lunch. same thing over and over. i just want to get drunk and walk around campus in the dark talking.
what kind of goals are there to have? i'm too lazy to actually do anything important. i stay at school and do my work, have fun every now and then, get stressed and break down every once in a while, but do nothing. there's no progress there. all my life's goals are for the future. a couple months ago i wrote a short list of things to do before i die. an assumption was built in that i would live long enough but it still doesn't help that i haven't crossed any of them off. my mother told me about this actor/musician who was doing an interview and was asked if this was the life he wanted, what he'd dreamed of doing. the guy said no, this wasn't what he wanted to do, he wanted to do everything. that's me. maybe someday i will be a doctor but it won't be to help people and it won't be any sort of noble or kind but for the money. because the things i want to do before i die aren't free. i don't even really feel bad about that anymore.
a hole is free. the same time i was thinking about the cars and houses and sailboats and travels (and family), i was thinking about the hole. maybe this summer, i'll do it. find a corner of my backyard my dad won't find and start digging. at least it's for now. i'm not going to say... one day when i'm a radiologist making $300k a year, i'm going to dig a hole. that's not how it works. i can dig my hole now. i can see it developing and growing. i have this crazy vision of myself in old shoes and socks, shorts, white tshirt (optional), goofy bandana, and shovel. covered in dirt and standing in a waist-deep hole. sun beating down. skin cancer. exercise. must get ready for bermuda.
no, i can't do anything. i thought of this while thinking of the other stuff but i forgot to write it down. what is progressive? what is change? what is growing? i want to run away. i sat in my dorm room looking out at the sunny afternoon. the glowing remaining leaves, the icicles on the trees. i knew it was frigid but it didn't look it. it looked sixty-five and lovely. what's progressive? what kind of goal can you possibly look to accomplish? i could read the rest of this chapter about the minoans... or i could leave. i could drive. i've been east and south. that leaves north and west. you can go pretty far in either direction. i have three hundred dollars and six gallons of gas. that would be something. something. this is nothing. every breath i waste in this room is one not spent on the road to... {i hate that i can sit here and not think of anywhere i want to go}
if i stop thinking of her when i'm lonely and angry and go back to thinking of you... is that progress?
posted by sunshine at 12:15 AM
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