Trapped

I think I've officially hit my quarter-life crisis. I feel like I've run out of time. I'm well past my due date for a lot of things. I always thought I'd be out of school and married by now.

So much for that, on both counts.

Maybe I'm just in a funk. The world seems very oppressive and alien to me lately -- I know what I want, but the means to get there seem insurmountable, and I've been paralyzed by pathetic nostalgia. I was so happy, and so blind. How do people deal with this shit? I've tried to consume myself with work; It just makes me tired, and turns my home into a disgusting hovel. I don't have the time, space, or energy to create the art that I want to. I loathe that the root of my problem is money. I owe a lot of it, and I'm only making enough to make ends meet... maybe a little more. I can't pay off my various debts, let alone pursue the kind of quality of life that I so desperately want.

I am lost.

I've been thinking on and off about picking up the violin for years. I've always chickened out at the last minute, mostly because I'm afraid it's just one of those passing phases of mine where I really want to learn how to do something but the second I actually start to try, I realize that the time I'd have to put into it is far more than I am capable or willing to. However, the desire has cropped up again in spades recently.

I need to do some research -- I'm sure a beginner violin can't be too expensive...

New and Improved

What a week.

Moved into my new place, got settled, met Cat's mom (super sweet, by the way), got a new phone, been hanging out with friends and making new ones, experiencing new things, new new new newwwwwwww! Seriously, I feel like I just came out of a cocoon.

Missy, Chels, Kipple, Rach, Liz, Billy, Mom, Dad, Laura, Dom, Bri, JP, Ling Ling, all you guys and waaaaay more (I'm sorry it's a long list) -- Thank you. I love you all. You are awesome.

I have a new job.

I have a new phone.

I have more friends.

I'm newly(ish) single.

I have a new apartment.

I'm working on a new body.

I have a new outlook on life.

I have new plans for my future.

It's a new year. Coincidence? I think NOT!

I'm at work 30 hours a week. I'm rarely home. I spend my spare time drinking with friends from CCF or Joe's or, on the off chance I -am- home, creating art that I can honestly say I'm proud of. I have people in my life -- friends both new and old, that care about my wellbeing and happiness, who genuinely enjoy my company and have no qualms about voicing it. I've been given a veritable library of advice, learned some extremely valuable life lessons, and have had a massive windfall of positivity and support in my life coming in to 2011. It's been said that it's always darkest before the dawn...

...and baby? Here comes the fucking SUN.

For the first time in months I am absolutely, positively, unbelievably, unabashedly happy.

I am a leaf on the wind; Watch how I soar.

Silence

I haven't slept well in this place for weeks. It's gotten to the point where I just stay up until I pass out for a few hours, which is long enough to get me through another day followed by another night just like this. I'm tired -- every hour of every day. The world seems... muted, lately. Like I'm constantly walking in a haze. Is this depression or just extended sleep deprivation?

Finally got a new apartment lined up -- excited as I can be about it. It's exactly what I need; What I've wanted since day one of living here. Remaining for as long as I have has changed me, and mostly for the worst. I can't count how many ads I responded to, how many times I wanted to pack what I could and just LEAVE and get the rest of it later. I've fantasized endlessly about how great and freeing and healthy it's going to be to get out of here. Yet for some reason my chest hurts when I think about the fact that in a matter of days, I will no longer call this little apartment on the lake my home. It's like Stockholm Syndrome; As if I like that I'm trapped here, physically and emotionally. I've become comfortable and oddly content with being miserable. I hate to admit it, but I think I'm scared of the closure moving out will give me... very odd feeling, considering how desperately I want this all to be over. I'm going to miss so many things, and I can't figure out why.

Listening to the wind chimes through the sliding door.

Laying on this couch.

Sleeping on my worn-out futon that I've had since high school.

Sitting on the balcony with my eyes closed, just listening to the world breathe.

The echoed peals of gunfire from the range across the street.

That weird "plink" noise the sink makes.

Beer, bud, pizza, and Netflix with Cat.

Cat... despite everything that's happened, I'm going to miss her. I know that sentiment isn't exactly mutual. She stopped missing me in November. Since then I've been... ugh. No. I'm not ranting about this shit again. I'm so... fucking... tired... of talking about her, but everything on my mind, everything in this place, this place itself -- literally all of it, reminds me of her. Of us. Of... god dammit. This is ridiculous! She's in love with someone else; Probably was the whole time, even if she wasn't aware of it. Knowing that, why can't I let go? This is bullshit! Our relationship, as genuine as the feelings were, was a star-crossed FARCE from square one. Wasn't it?

Am I seriously trying to protect myself by downplaying the relationship?

If so, why did I just spend 4 hours on this painting for her?

When did I start flip-flopping so much?

Have I really become that guy?

What the fuck happened to me?

This needs to stop. I won't let this drag me down any further. I'm moving out on the 30th, cleansing this place of my presence the 1st, and then it's over.

PS -- I might be meeting her mom and stepdad on the 2nd. I'm not sure if I'd have been more nervous as the boyfriend, or if I'm more nervous now as the ex.

This fucking blows.

Writers Block

So I'm going to quote something.

"I will have poetry in my life. And adventure. And love. Love above all. No... not the artful postures of love, not playful and poetical games of love for the amusement of an evening, but love that... overthrows life. Unbiddable, ungovernable - like a riot in the heart, and nothing to be done, come ruin or rapture. Love - like there has never been in a play."

This. I want this -- and I WILL have it all. Not now... not for a while. In time, however, it will all be mine.

Watch me.

Holidaze

Ah... so here I am, exhausted after a long and intense dinner shift. Sitting in a hotel room hide-a-bed with my dad snoring like a chainsaw in the adjacent room. As I relax with a glass of my mother's 2008 Primitivo Port, I can't help but look back on the wild ride that was 2010. Come with me, won't you?

2010: A Year in Review

EDIT -- I wrote this huge thing, and it was 75% about my ex. I realize that I've been using this blog primarily to vent about Cat. It's not intentional, it's just what's been on my mind lately. I didn't start this thing to whine, and it's certainly not the reason I'm going to continue using it. The ordeal of our relationship, in its entirety, has had more of an effect on me than I could have ever imagined -- but it's time to stop being wistful and nostalgic. She, and we, are done. Prrrobably permanently. I fucked up major, and while she's been a saint about it I know that I've worn out my welcome in her life, at least for now. I don't know the future holds, but at the moment I can't see anything beyond the most rudimentary of friendships between us. It's truly creepy to me, how perfectly she mirrors how I was at 21. I couldn't see it at first, and it's made a lot of things make a LOT of sense.

On THAT note, I'm moving on. In a week, that chapter of my life will be closed. Where things go from there? Only time will tell. The 2010 Review will have to wait until I can be a little more objective.

Til then? Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.

A Hotel Room Christmas

So with how often I work at Cheesecake, my parents are in San Francisco for the next few days to celebrate the holidays. We're staying at this pretty nice hotel downtown, and my mom has basically moved a car full of decorations and accouterments from home and has been cheerfully decorating this room for the last 40 minutes.

I don't mean like, a few things -- she brought candles, all these old decorations from when I was a kid, her coffee machine, really nice plates/glasses/silverware, the champagne flutes I got her last year, her iPod dock... even the stockings that, I kid you not, we have used since I was 5. It makes me happy that she went to all the trouble, just to make it feel like home. This could seriously not have come at a better time. The last few months have left me utterly worn out, physically and emotionally. It's nice to have that feeling of "home" again; I haven't had that since shortly after I left the Balboa apartment.

Anyway, gotta go. Wine and cheese calls, then a dinner shift. Happy holidays, everyone!