Winter's a bitter bastard of a season, and when autumn comes, you feel it winding up like so many major league pitchers. The frost begins to appear on your car window as you prepare for the morning work drive; the nights become less of a time to sit outside, sipping on a drink, and become more of a reason to consider buying that fireplace.
Needless to say, when winter comes, only the hardiest of New Englanders don't wish they were living down South.
That was just my way of saying that it's incredibly fucking cold lately, a huge drop from sweltering September days. No need to coast from warm to cool, Earth. No need at all. Just kick it on over like you're switching from 1st to 5th, hear a million engines sputter, and laugh your ass off. This is the revenge of the planet, isn't it? Our gases pollute the atmosphere, and in return, the winters get colder and harder on our engines to take.
I was supposed to go to Beer & Burgers ?? last night. I had been flipping and flopping on going until yesterday afternoon, when my mind finally decided to stop being a bitch and I said to myself that I'd go.
And then, on the way home, my check engine light and coolant tank light both turned on -- which meant just about the entire right side of my dashboard was lit up. (there are three other lights -- the oil pressure, theft system, and another one -- that have been on for weeks. I had it checked out when it first occurred. They didn't find anything wrong.)
So I ended up not going down. Or to D&D at "Bat Country" at midnight. Instead, I fell asleep somewhere around 6 PM, woke up around 9:30, fell back asleep, and came to at 7 AM, only to force myself to sleep again until 10:30, when I took my brother's truck and deposited a check so I'd have money for whatever the garage finds wrong with the car. And I have today off from the theater because I was supposed to be in Pittsburgh today. Helloween became 21+, though, so that fell through.
Y'know, reading other people's journals tends to inspire me. The most constant updater on my friends list, Sid, has gotten me thinking about relationships, maturity, and other crap.
I haven't dated someone in what's been close to two, two and a half years. And I think I've only been really attracted to one person in that whole period. Needless to say, her immaturity and problematic way of living life has already been documented here; beyond her, though, there hasn't been much that makes my heart go aflutter and make my pecker rise. Sometimes one or the other, and mostly the latter I'm sure, but that just happens with all men. You can't tame that thing until you're about 60.
Not the point, though. What I'm saying is that growing up is something that happens almost invisibly; and even when it happens, you can still find yourself flashing back into your pre-grown-up days. I know I didn't become a grown-up the day I turned 20; all that meant was the "teen" years had finally flushed themselves out. And I'm not going to be a grown-up when I leave for Boston next fall, or when I turn 21. I already am; I've accepted responsibility, decided my ideals, know my dream and how near-impossible it is to attain unless I truly do dedicate my life to it, and have plans to do so. In a way, what else can possibly define a person who's grown up?
And why is it that it's so difficult to find someone who has the same sense of knowledge about themselves? I've learned to abandon angst at a base level; not to worry myself with not having found someone yet (even though I am not at heart a loner, and do depend on the existence of my friends to keep me going). It does irk me though -- there's so few people you can sit down and have a real grown-up talk with. Part of that is me; I crack jokes as a reflex, and work off banter like an IV set into my thickest vein (that imagery may not be suitable for all audiences, depending on how deep in the gutter their minds are).
But, occassionally, I do miss the talks, I do wish I could spend more time getting to know people on a level other than "my favorite things" and "what's happening in my life right now". A person's past can be so much more interesting than their present. I'll give an example; a few months ago, I ended up IMing Sid as she was heading back from the East Coast Camping Trip (before anyone finds it odd that I remember the time the conversation took place, I'll let you know that I remember most everything that happens in my life and in my circle of friends, for many many years. I was pretty much the "historian" in high school). We got into a talk about motocross somehow (okay, so I don't remember everything everything), but the important fact was that I would've never guessed she was a motocross nut when she was younger, and wants to get into it again, someday. It was interesting, the story of how she fell out of that part of her life.
That's what all life needs: something more interesting. Monotony is a vacuum and we become dust the longer and longer we spend our days doing a routine.
And somedays, when that routine is so difficult, I wish I could climb up to the top of a building, stand with arms spread, and sing out:
"They're selling razor blades and mirrors in the street/I pray that when I'm coming down you'll be asleep/If I ever hurt you your revenge will be so sweet/Because I'm scum, and I'm your son/I come undone/I come undone"
Why?
Why not?
It's just fun to sing. Sometimes a British pop God's song can make everything feel so much better.
So rock and roll, so corporate suit
So damn ugly, so damn cute
So well-trained, so animal
So need your love, so fuck you all
LATER EDIT:
If I had work today, I would have never discovered three more Strokes songs from First Impressions of Earth, plus the cover of the album (which I think is pretty awesome).
http://suicidegirls.com/media/members/2/66/169662/41100/740808.jpg
Crappy quality, yes, but the cover is nonetheless very cool. And the new songs are great. More mellow. January 3rd is too far away.
Needless to say, when winter comes, only the hardiest of New Englanders don't wish they were living down South.
That was just my way of saying that it's incredibly fucking cold lately, a huge drop from sweltering September days. No need to coast from warm to cool, Earth. No need at all. Just kick it on over like you're switching from 1st to 5th, hear a million engines sputter, and laugh your ass off. This is the revenge of the planet, isn't it? Our gases pollute the atmosphere, and in return, the winters get colder and harder on our engines to take.
I was supposed to go to Beer & Burgers ?? last night. I had been flipping and flopping on going until yesterday afternoon, when my mind finally decided to stop being a bitch and I said to myself that I'd go.
And then, on the way home, my check engine light and coolant tank light both turned on -- which meant just about the entire right side of my dashboard was lit up. (there are three other lights -- the oil pressure, theft system, and another one -- that have been on for weeks. I had it checked out when it first occurred. They didn't find anything wrong.)
So I ended up not going down. Or to D&D at "Bat Country" at midnight. Instead, I fell asleep somewhere around 6 PM, woke up around 9:30, fell back asleep, and came to at 7 AM, only to force myself to sleep again until 10:30, when I took my brother's truck and deposited a check so I'd have money for whatever the garage finds wrong with the car. And I have today off from the theater because I was supposed to be in Pittsburgh today. Helloween became 21+, though, so that fell through.
Y'know, reading other people's journals tends to inspire me. The most constant updater on my friends list, Sid, has gotten me thinking about relationships, maturity, and other crap.
I haven't dated someone in what's been close to two, two and a half years. And I think I've only been really attracted to one person in that whole period. Needless to say, her immaturity and problematic way of living life has already been documented here; beyond her, though, there hasn't been much that makes my heart go aflutter and make my pecker rise. Sometimes one or the other, and mostly the latter I'm sure, but that just happens with all men. You can't tame that thing until you're about 60.
Not the point, though. What I'm saying is that growing up is something that happens almost invisibly; and even when it happens, you can still find yourself flashing back into your pre-grown-up days. I know I didn't become a grown-up the day I turned 20; all that meant was the "teen" years had finally flushed themselves out. And I'm not going to be a grown-up when I leave for Boston next fall, or when I turn 21. I already am; I've accepted responsibility, decided my ideals, know my dream and how near-impossible it is to attain unless I truly do dedicate my life to it, and have plans to do so. In a way, what else can possibly define a person who's grown up?
And why is it that it's so difficult to find someone who has the same sense of knowledge about themselves? I've learned to abandon angst at a base level; not to worry myself with not having found someone yet (even though I am not at heart a loner, and do depend on the existence of my friends to keep me going). It does irk me though -- there's so few people you can sit down and have a real grown-up talk with. Part of that is me; I crack jokes as a reflex, and work off banter like an IV set into my thickest vein (that imagery may not be suitable for all audiences, depending on how deep in the gutter their minds are).
But, occassionally, I do miss the talks, I do wish I could spend more time getting to know people on a level other than "my favorite things" and "what's happening in my life right now". A person's past can be so much more interesting than their present. I'll give an example; a few months ago, I ended up IMing Sid as she was heading back from the East Coast Camping Trip (before anyone finds it odd that I remember the time the conversation took place, I'll let you know that I remember most everything that happens in my life and in my circle of friends, for many many years. I was pretty much the "historian" in high school). We got into a talk about motocross somehow (okay, so I don't remember everything everything), but the important fact was that I would've never guessed she was a motocross nut when she was younger, and wants to get into it again, someday. It was interesting, the story of how she fell out of that part of her life.
That's what all life needs: something more interesting. Monotony is a vacuum and we become dust the longer and longer we spend our days doing a routine.
And somedays, when that routine is so difficult, I wish I could climb up to the top of a building, stand with arms spread, and sing out:
"They're selling razor blades and mirrors in the street/I pray that when I'm coming down you'll be asleep/If I ever hurt you your revenge will be so sweet/Because I'm scum, and I'm your son/I come undone/I come undone"
Why?
Why not?
It's just fun to sing. Sometimes a British pop God's song can make everything feel so much better.
So rock and roll, so corporate suit
So damn ugly, so damn cute
So well-trained, so animal
So need your love, so fuck you all
LATER EDIT:
If I had work today, I would have never discovered three more Strokes songs from First Impressions of Earth, plus the cover of the album (which I think is pretty awesome).
http://suicidegirls.com/media/members/2/66/169662/41100/740808.jpg
Crappy quality, yes, but the cover is nonetheless very cool. And the new songs are great. More mellow. January 3rd is too far away.
but thank you for the picture of ryan reynolds