2:13 a.m. - 2004-03-26
opposite-timism
This is essentially why I keep a blog. Because sometimes I come home at two in the morning, sleep nowhere in sight, bereft of weed, drunk (but not enough) and balls-out crazed, with no one to talk to. It's funny how insomnia is so lonely, but if you're a crackhead, at least you often have an audience to self-destruct in front of. This is not what I need right now...this is not what I want right now, neither the crack nor the audience.
But the state that I am in now is perhaps not entirely un-crack-esque. Last week, my lackadaisy* (*actually a real word, not just something hippies would name their offspring) cost the paper I work at $2,000. It was not technically my fault (the first grand...maybe...the second, NOT) but I have ben made to feel the brunt of this shit...which is great since my work is menial, tedious, redundant and damaging to sleep, mental well-being and academic productivity. Hot! The only reason I don't quit is not to fuck over any of the champs I work.
It's great to work at student newspaper...not only to you get paid absolute shite, but it still doesn't help you get a real job, it takes up all your time and makes you miserable and even more prone to frequent and unmitigated substance abuse.
What? What am I talking about? Fuck, I don't even care anymore. I stayed late to ensure meticulous perfection, then I finally got to go out...in time to find enough green to land me approximately one drink when I felt the profound need to get profoundly fucked up. Ah, profundity. I got to catch up with people I hadn't spoken to in ages. At least, not really spoken to. It was really swell, because our paths were merely crossed at coincidence, rather than forced by persistance. I have been feeling greatly overwhelmed by the social world I constructed instead of developing autonomy/self-esteem. Not terribly easy to sympathize with, but I don't write this shite for sympathy. I write it because even when people are all but ramming your door down, there is mysteriously NO ONE to commiserate with at 3 in the morning. Whatevs.
I don't know how long I've been listening to Boys Don't Cry, but it's been looping. And I haven't been crying, due to the biological impossibility of this (for me specifically...the song is an ironic statement on the emotionless ideal projected onto males in our society, for which they are later punished by lovers/therapists/children/etc...clearly).
I find it hilarious that the one Thursday I get off of work early, I am thrown into a tailspin instead of jumping for goddamn joy. And now I'm on my way to staying up until 4, which is when I would usually be getting off.
Sorry to anyone who read this far. Really, I'm kind of excited about this shit being temporarily over. I can't wait to go to Colorado. But I just feel...kind of weirdly heartbroken. I just had to go there. Now I can work on getting back.
