It just occurred to me that the past few posts I’ve made about myself have been things I conjured from thin air. “Fictive truth,” I like to call it. Elements of myself have been interpolated into characters that have the same name as me. For the layperson, that means some of the stuff I write is kinda true. But then again, there is no such thing as absolute truth. Well, not written truth at least. Everything is a recorded from a memory, an experience, or otherwise. First-hand accounts are often most accurate, but who’s to say the story-teller won’t elaborate and exaggerate parts of his narrative? And with each version that’s recorded, there is more margin for error.
Anyway, I thought I would write something a little bit more introspective tonight. Badly Drawn Boy, be my muse, and lead me to a masterpiece!
The past few months of my life have been some of the most difficult. A sadness dwells within me, and when it bubbles to the surface, it rocks my mind and emotions. I seem to have had this blot of despair in my life and on my mind for a long time. As long as I can remember, really. It’s tidal; it ebbs and it flows. It peaks and bottoms-out. Sometimes I go months without feeling this sense of malaise and misery; other times, I wallow in its shadow for weeks at end.
If I was presented with the challenge of determining the root of this sadness, I would be unable to propose a theory in which I was 100% sure. It’s a lot of things: middle kid syndrome, cataclysmic events early in my life, disillusionment, doubt, et cetera. To discuss any of these possible causes would be an exercise in patience, possibly futility. I believe they are all equally responsible in influencing my current disposition, which marked by a tender fragility. In any event, things seem to be getting better. I have been going to therapy and trying to approach things with a new lust for life. I am learning that it’s easier to pick up and move forward with your life than it is to concentrate on the things you would have done differently. As Paul Simon put it, “a good day ain’t got no rain…a bad day’s when I lie in bed and think of things that might have been.” I have to remind myself of this almost daily.
It has been a difficult journey, but I have traversed it one piece. Problems remain, but then again problems will always remain. Life wasn’t meant to be easy. If it was, then it wouldn’t be life. Life isn’t made easier by some of the poor decisions I’ve made, but I am wiser for most of those follies. I wish I could have done things a little differently, but if I had, then I wouldn’t have met the people I have. Humans are social creatures, and for some reason, the majority of us thrive off companionship with others. If human companionship is unavailable, then we as a species latch adoration onto other things, like plants and animals. Well, mainly animals– I don’t know how many people who get pictures of their plant taken with Santa Claus. We feel the same sense of fufillment with plants as we do with animals, though. It may not be hard to keep a plant alive, but there is something comforting in knowing that you can.
Hmmm, botany ended out the last paragraph. Not exactly related to my original vision. Damn this stream of consciousness! I know I want to write more about this, but it’s still tough to get my head around. I’ll probably attempt this subject again after a while. Instead, I give you this…
Thanksgiving is this week. What are some of the things for which I am thankful?
–My health: My body still works after 21 years of use. It better keep up for a good while because I think I voided the warranty on it when I tried to give myself a tattoo.
–My family: Sometimes they make me wish I was adopted. Other times, they tell me just the thing I need to hear to make me smile (or even angrier sometimes). Most the time, I’m annoyed with them, yet continue to love them.
–My friends: I don’t have many friends–maybe a dozen or so. Each of them provides with something that endears them to me, a certian idiosyncrasy, a certain nuance to his or her character. They are the thing for which I am most thankful because I feel my friends understand me better than my family.
–My talents (if I have any): It’s great knowing stuff. I wouldn’t trade my intelligence for anything. Moreover, I get a lot of people that commend me for this crap I’m doing now. While I appreciate the adulation, I don’t know if they are just telling me these things to placate me or if they are being sincere. Confidence in my output is not something for which I’m known. Sometimes, I feel satisfied with my attempts at creativity; other times, I curse myself for being so this and so that. Most the time, however, I bungle through, hoping the final product is at least a glimmer of the original vision.
–My job: I’ve got a good, stressful job. I work from home, and I make about $22,000 a year. Not bad for a 21-year-old that doesn’t like jobs. I don’t know how long I can continue, though. The stress is starting to mount, and I have become burned out lately.
Completely or somewhat related, I think Badly Drawn Boy’s Hour of the Bewilderbeast is one of my favorite albums ever. For some unknown reason, I can relate to every song on this CD at this moment. Oh yes, I know why…
I don’t feel like reviewing the entire album because I want to go to bed (but maybe one day soon), so I will leave you with the lyrics to one of the songs:
“Once Around the Block”
You quiver like a candle on fire
I’m putting you out
Maybe tonight we could be the last shout
But I’m fascinated by your style
Your beauty will last for a while
You’re feeling instead of being
The more that I live on the inside
There’s nothing to give
I’m infatuated by your moves
I’m gonna search hard for your clues
I want to repair your desire
And call it a gift that I stole from just wanting to live
Now I see the vision through your eyes
Your innocence no longer fuels surprise
Trying to outrun your fear
Running to lose
Heart on your sleeve and your sole in your shoes
Take a left,
A sharp left
And another left, meet me on the corner
And we’ll start again.
Way unrelated: My mouth still tastes like coffee, something I drank oh…EIGHTEEN HOURS ago.
–Post over, Mikey out.