Tragedies

Tomorrow is a new grinding work week. Another week of pure unadulterated woo-wee, hellish fun. And I realized I haven't done anything this weekend besides watching a marathon of Prison Break.  It's  good story, lots of cliffhangers as all good TV series should have, but that doesn't mean I can feel good about doing jack shit this weekend.

I was standing outside yesterday during the downpour yesterday when I realized: oh shit, I think I remember this feeling: depression.  Except it wasn't the same as the depressed fuck life fuck this shit state while I was a banker. No, it was more like a sick tiredness of everything because for all the happy times, the things I've learned, and the incredible moments to come, somehow I'll return to this feeling: that oh crap, will anything ever be completely done? The rain streamed through the yellow streetlamps like.. like drops of gold.  Oh yeah, that imagery was another pathetic trite piece of doo doo from my lumpy brain.

It's like you settle into a place with great roommates but you know that what you really want is your own place with French doors and a veranda, a garden and granite kitchen-top and wide open spaces to entertain, perhaps you on piano and she on violin (or cello!) and the items you picked up overseas will grace your tabletops and your shelves and of course there's a laughing basset hound/beagle/labrador rolling around...  except you're living in a 3 bedroom convert and there's a clump of hair in the drain and a stack of newspaper on the kitchen floor and nothing is ever quite exactly the way you want it to be — right now.

From LiveJournal: When journals are purged, all content is permanently erased from LiveJournal's servers, as noted in the above FAQ. Therefore, there is no way for your journal entries to be restored, as the content no longer exists.

Fuck. I mean, I really really had some entries from my LJ (2001-2003) that I want back.  Yeah, I can skip the angst from my banking nightmares and the saccharine dopiness for Candice but some of it was funny and miserable and goddamit I really want my entries from New Zealand back - if only to compare that parody of who I am to the fucker that I am right now.  That is a fucking tragedy.  And it's a tragedy cause I had saved all my entries in a big fucking word file and I bound it – bound it – using my Ibank's printing services (stick it to the man!) but when I quit it all came too fast and I didn't have time to take the documents off my hard drive and retrieve that printout before ya know.. they kicked me to the curb.  Fuckers.  I bet they have it in their records somewhere... I wonder if I can take it back somehow.

I bet if I run for office or something, they'll drag that stuff out.  Maybe that's the only way I can get those entries back.

I'm trying to write an article about New Zealand now and those entries would have helped.  Now all I have are glimpses of various computer labs but not a single dammed word.

It's also sad and a little sweet and somewhat weird that I really miss her but mixed into that is the "oh my fucking shit what the hell am I doing -- I'm going off without a job or plan and I have only that much in my bank account?"

I'm seriously gonna be cooking beans by the road.

I'm fucked fucking scared. Witless.  Not so much witless cause that's what I'm going to depend on but oh my god, I'll be 27 and what am I doing?

What's also sad is every time an old geezer shuffles passed me and bums a cigarette I can't help but think, one wrong step and I'm gonna turn into that old guy, crazed out of my mind and destitute, without anyone to care for me cause they're all sick and tired of the bullshit I put out, cause who the fuck cares about someone when they are stupid enough to think that not working towards a job a home a retirement account is a good idea cause fuck them, I mean, I'm cavorting off and dusting off responsibilities while all the poor fuckers are working their asses off in the best years of their lives right? So when I have to pay for my consequences who will really care?

No one, that's who.

All this stuff is blanked out when I think of standing on top of a mountain in 3 months. ~90 days. Something like that. And when I can see her silhouette, curved against the streaming sun.

Oh shit. What the hell am I doing?

EDIT: Another piece of paranoid verbal diarrhea from me. But geez, something's gotta give!

EDIT: Tie-ing with two runs when down 4-6 at the top of the inning and then your best closer blowing it with a home run for the first at bat... that's a freakin tragedy.  God I'm so sad right now.  Go Oswalt!