Tragedy and Comedy

I had something I wanted to write down, but I can't remember what it was. I guess that's the ephemeral nature of ideas, huh?

It's not that I plan out everything that I'm going to write here--just some things, and I realize that's sad--but I figure as long as I use this space rather frequently, I may as well put it to some good purpose.

Anyway, something popped in my head that I thought would be beneficial to me if I wrote about it, because this is a cheap form of therapy, after all. I hopped online with a sense of purpose, and quickly wandered down the bright, shiny roads of the Internet, which effectively brainwashed me. Maybe it will come back if I start at the beginning.

I woke up with my glasses on, my lights on, and still fully dressed. As luck would have it, I wasn't on the couch this time, but actually in my bed. A local legend performed his last concert before moving away last night, so that was as good a reason as any to go out and party on a Tuesday night. I wasnt' planning on drinking too much, and I didn't, but along the way I forgot to eat, so three Guinness felt more like six, and that last MGD didn't help matters.

I had a great time, and left the bar feeling fine. I was smiling to myself, for whatever reason, and just generally happy to be alive. I stopped off at the 7-Eleven to get a rank microwave burger that tasted like heaven as a power-walked home, which is something I do when I'm buzzed, for some reason. I opened my door an headed straight for bed, feeling fine.

The next thing I remember was the sight of my room's fluorescent light fixture blaring down from above me...it may have been 7 am. I chucked my glasses and fell back asleep. I woke up again at the sound of my alarm and it felt as if somone had jammed a crowbar into the base of my skull and forgot to remove it. I fell back asleep. Finally, I got my shit together and made it to work--on time even--and proved useless for three hours as I was gripped in the throes of my worst hangover ever. I figured I had to be coming down with something because I hardly had anything to drink the night before and began looking up info on the West Nile Virus, scrutinizing it's symptoms, which are oddly enough, quite similar to those of a hangover.

Food, water, and two ibuprofen made me feel somewhat human again.

All this living is certainly catching up with me. I'm not as skinny as I was; I feel achey; it's hard for me to concentrate. I guess all these things come with growing older, which I guess means that it will get lot worse in years to come--something to look forward too. I suppose I should take better care of myself, but I think I would if I wanted to; I've just always had hang ups about my own body. Not my looks, really--though I have those too--just my physicality. My body always seems to get in the way of things. It's like I've never properly learned how to use it or something; I can move it around and all that, but there's such a gap there between body and mind, and I've never really figured out how to bridge it. I bump into things. I never know how to stand, or move, and I really can't dance. Some times I wish it wasn't there. I have a free membership to a gym through my job, but I haven't used it yet. I think I'd like to...I was enrolled in a gym once, and I wasn't crazy about it, but it would be nice to trim up, but I feel too embarassed to go--anything that draws attention to my physical person makes me uncomfortable. Maybe it's because I'd rather watch than do, blend into the crowd, be a fly on the wall...that sort of thing. I'd feel like going to the gym would kind of be like admitting that I have to improve myself; that I realize I have to be in better shape; that I need to make myself into something I'm not; like people would think that I'm trying to make myself into the stereotypical handsome male, and thus make me the butt of jokes. "Did you see J at the gym, jogging, etc. Who's he trying to kid?" I guess that's just me being paranoid...and a bit dramatic.

I don't know if that makes any sense. I'm probably just lazy, but I've become increasingly more hands off with people. I prefer to just wave, though I realize that in the real world, you're measured by your handshake, so I have to make that concession to get ahead. I used to be kinda huggy with my female friends, but I've tried to back off that with the new women I meet now, because I have a problem mistaking friendly affection from a woman from romantic affection and vice versa. It's just so confusing, I'd rather not have the stress--does she like me, doesn't she like me? You know, all that high school bullshit. You'd figure I'd be over that by now.

I was amazed at the show yesterday how many people I've come to know in this town, and how little we really know each other. This is a place full of acquaintences; it's the kind of place that people become so known by their nicknames, that their real names are quickly forgotten.

Maybe I'm being a lot dramatic.