Do you know that circumstance where you have been expecting something for months because you have been confronted because it is an inevitability of life and the circle (or straight line (depending on your belief)) that it represents and even though you know the outcome because there is only one outcome that can be - you still do not know how to handle it?
I mean, despite all my experience, made up experience, rehearsing and practicing with the seclusion within my mind, I scroll through my Rolodex of emotions and reactions... and I have nothing. I know how I am supposed to feel by proxy of having experienced it in the presence of others, but I have nothing for it.
It is not that I have no idea how to feel, because I know how I am supposed to feel, it is just that I do not know how to present it in an outward manner. Is this good? Bad? Should I be proud that I am seemingly devoid of emotion? Should I be scared that I am building all of this up for one day when I just completely break down because I cannot handle it anymore? Should I be worried that maybe... maybe I really am a terrible person?
I thought about this on the car ride there, silently, with my Dad. Since we do not talk I just stared out the window thinking of this, because I thought I knew that I would show something.
I wanted to show something. Anything...
But finally faced with the inevitability I had absolutely nothing. Not even a word. Nothing. I had nothing to say. Nothing to show. Nothing came out. Nothing.
I saw tears, but I did not feel any.
On the car ride home, it was silent again.
All I could think about was this inner plague. Why I had nothing?
I had nothing to say. But then I seldom have anything to say to him.
I think the bridge was burnt beyond repair. He tried too hard.
I hate it when people try. They should just be normal.
I hate this detachment.
I hate myself for this. For not feeling anything.
It is not that I do not want to, I know I want to.
Maybe I am just scared of everything coming out and having no one there to help me.
I mean, I have all but one option as an outlet... a paper pad.
I hate that I have nothing significant.
I hate that I am going to bed without an answer.
I'm selfish... I hate this.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Going to a town...
The town with no people. I am not there anymore. I belong and I participate.
Because it's fun.
Four days a week I find myself at the same place, doing the same thing, with the same people, talking about the same things and the same people.
But... I do not want to have it any other way. Right now is how I want my future workplaces to feel.
I cannot understand the discomfort and insecurity others share with each other, but maybe that is because I really am immature.
I really do not attribute it down to that though.
I am surrounded by a handful of neutral figures I can confide in, easily, without having to worry about what I spill. I like that it is mutual and open. It really feels like I am paid to socialise all but for four hours of the week.
The sad thing is though, I do not want this to change and in retrospect I can see how this will adversely affect me in the future. It puts a burden on my ambition, my desperation, my goals and the future I want... or thought I wanted.
But I should stop worrying about what may or not happen and what I may or may not want to be. I keep thinking of the sunk cost, the six years spent (possibly wasted) because I did not think.
But I am happy now, with where I am and who I am here with and where I sit and lay my hat. That is all that should matter, right?
Added bonus is the candy, human candy, all day everyday.
Because it's fun.
Four days a week I find myself at the same place, doing the same thing, with the same people, talking about the same things and the same people.
But... I do not want to have it any other way. Right now is how I want my future workplaces to feel.
I cannot understand the discomfort and insecurity others share with each other, but maybe that is because I really am immature.
I really do not attribute it down to that though.
I am surrounded by a handful of neutral figures I can confide in, easily, without having to worry about what I spill. I like that it is mutual and open. It really feels like I am paid to socialise all but for four hours of the week.
The sad thing is though, I do not want this to change and in retrospect I can see how this will adversely affect me in the future. It puts a burden on my ambition, my desperation, my goals and the future I want... or thought I wanted.
But I should stop worrying about what may or not happen and what I may or may not want to be. I keep thinking of the sunk cost, the six years spent (possibly wasted) because I did not think.
But I am happy now, with where I am and who I am here with and where I sit and lay my hat. That is all that should matter, right?
Added bonus is the candy, human candy, all day everyday.
Enemy of an enemy is a friend?
My preface - I will never understand the mentality of a human being whose seemingly sole purpose in socializing is to finish a night or weekend with an assault charge pending and I really, truly do believe I have a better grasp of the mind than an average person. Is this because my upbringing associates itself with labels like ‘elite’, ‘affluent’, ‘civil’ and so forth; and theirs…. Scum?
I have no idea.
My first meeting with, let’s call this fellow – ‘Scum’ was at One Movement on Saturday afternoon, I was at the VIP area, walking out to which he so politely asked “Do you need those glasses to see or something cunt?”. I casually smirked and ignored.
I can recall every aspects of this example of what the sewers would consider an alpha male in its purest:
• Unit T shirt
• Arnette Sunglasses hanging from the rear of the head
• Ripped denim billabong jeans (not fitted)
• Faux leather white pointed toe laceless shoes
• Barbed wire tattoo around both upper arms
• Two Pure Blonde beverages
I told my friends about this encounter, namely the question, nothing in detail as it made a nice little inside joke regarding myopia.
My second meeting with this fellow was, I guess on my former ‘home ground’ at Amplifier. I had not been there on a Saturday in a long time. My oh my how things have changed in the last few years (by the way I’m not one of those people who reminisce about how good Amps was back in the day since I used to go to Claremont all the time).
Sitting down with my feet up on a stool, I had my water on there. The sewer being approached me. Threw the water on the ground, picked up the stool and asked (told) me “You don’t need this right, I’ll just take it off you”. I muttered some profanity and he asked me if I had something to say – I smiled and reminded him not to drop it on his foot.
A girl sitting with the group apologized to me on their behalf.
Thoughtful… but probably meaningless.
Now, my favourite meeting. The third.
Leaving the establishment, I could not help but hear some girls screaming and some people yelling and some chairs being shuffled about loudly. At my amazement, I saw my favourite sewer being sitting down on a chair, holding his nose / face in general with blood coming down it and looking somewhat dazed.
After asking around for the circumstances, my dearest sewer being had told someone to get off a chair so he could use it and to his amazement, a refusal.
Threats were made and eventually he bit off more than he could chew. I wonder if it’s ironic that his assailant looked like he belonged in the same drainpipe, yet I had the utmost respect?
It was nice to see the universe balancing itself out and an indirect justice sort of served.
It is encounters like this that I yearn to leave this place, leave my friends, my family and be somewhere comfortable where I do not have to worry about every second person who takes a longer glance at me to whether or not I will have a physical confrontation to deal with.
But I guess that is life, so social, so physical, so emotional… so stay home.
I have no idea.
My first meeting with, let’s call this fellow – ‘Scum’ was at One Movement on Saturday afternoon, I was at the VIP area, walking out to which he so politely asked “Do you need those glasses to see or something cunt?”. I casually smirked and ignored.
I can recall every aspects of this example of what the sewers would consider an alpha male in its purest:
• Unit T shirt
• Arnette Sunglasses hanging from the rear of the head
• Ripped denim billabong jeans (not fitted)
• Faux leather white pointed toe laceless shoes
• Barbed wire tattoo around both upper arms
• Two Pure Blonde beverages
I told my friends about this encounter, namely the question, nothing in detail as it made a nice little inside joke regarding myopia.
My second meeting with this fellow was, I guess on my former ‘home ground’ at Amplifier. I had not been there on a Saturday in a long time. My oh my how things have changed in the last few years (by the way I’m not one of those people who reminisce about how good Amps was back in the day since I used to go to Claremont all the time).
Sitting down with my feet up on a stool, I had my water on there. The sewer being approached me. Threw the water on the ground, picked up the stool and asked (told) me “You don’t need this right, I’ll just take it off you”. I muttered some profanity and he asked me if I had something to say – I smiled and reminded him not to drop it on his foot.
A girl sitting with the group apologized to me on their behalf.
Thoughtful… but probably meaningless.
Now, my favourite meeting. The third.
Leaving the establishment, I could not help but hear some girls screaming and some people yelling and some chairs being shuffled about loudly. At my amazement, I saw my favourite sewer being sitting down on a chair, holding his nose / face in general with blood coming down it and looking somewhat dazed.
After asking around for the circumstances, my dearest sewer being had told someone to get off a chair so he could use it and to his amazement, a refusal.
Threats were made and eventually he bit off more than he could chew. I wonder if it’s ironic that his assailant looked like he belonged in the same drainpipe, yet I had the utmost respect?
It was nice to see the universe balancing itself out and an indirect justice sort of served.
It is encounters like this that I yearn to leave this place, leave my friends, my family and be somewhere comfortable where I do not have to worry about every second person who takes a longer glance at me to whether or not I will have a physical confrontation to deal with.
But I guess that is life, so social, so physical, so emotional… so stay home.
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