"The Google doodle's kinda weird today, you know what it's for?"
"Uh, 100th anniversary of...somethin'."
"Wamme to click it?"
"Nah, just look up reviews for that movie, you know, the one with the thing--"
"Wonder how you get a job designing those?"
"I--what? I d'no, how's the movie look?"
"Eh, k I guess. It'd just be a cool job, don'ya think?"
Drinking is not being drunk, being a drunk. Drinking is not blacking out, cleaning vomit off your shoes in the morning. It's not scerocis of the liver at age 25, leaving your loved ones to wonder about the why-s.
Drinking can be a pleasant night out with friends, a pleasant night in with family. Drinking can break down the walls we hold around us, allow us to see people in ways we could never have concieved. Drinking can show us ourselves through others' eyes, often more positively than we might think.
Drinking's easy to use and to overuse, especially for the wrong reasons. But to demonize alcohol, to deem it an evil is to take the easy way out as well. Self control is a valuable and necessary asset in life. The ability to excercise it and use it well can bar a great deal of pain, while in turn precipitating a great deal of happiness.
The simplest thing to be
The blood in my arms is ice, and I cannot feel them. It seeps down my legs, blossoms in my chest like a rose of frozen crystal. A rose whose thorny vines entwine me, and hold me. And I cannot move save for a tremble that grows softly but surely as a breeze through autumn woods. And I cannot speak. For what could I say to impart the true depth of my rage. So I let it take me. Lost and alone in the blizzard, feeling fading away until I am not angry, or sad, or fearful. I am nothing, for that is the simplest thing to be.
I don't know what I want to do with my life--I never really have. And I'm nearing the end of when that indecision is acceptable. I could never choose how others did, favorite movies, and actors, and songs. Never. And I couldn't choose what I wanted to be. So I picked something, threw a metaphoric dart at a list of majors and slogged on from there.
It's not like I'm inept. In fact, I've always been a pretty fair hand at anything I tried. And maybe that's a piece of the problem. It's human nature to gravitate toward that which we do well, so where does that leave someone who's the same at everything.
Interest drives many ambitions as well, and I do have interests. But mine last for a day, or an afternoon, or an hour. Not a lifetime. One night I learned the names and locations of every country on the planet, because I felt like it. Most days I can't force myself off the couch.
The worst part of it all is the self-awareness, the knowing. Knowing the potential I have and my inability to use it. Seeing the unfulfillable deadline drawing slowly and relentlessly nearer. But on top of it all, what truly plagues me is holding in my soul the indisputable fact that my problem is not deciding what I want to do most with my life. It's that there is nothing I have ever wanted to do with it.
Song from a Summer Evening
(Chords and Strum pattern below)
The world around me is dying
Sky, why are you grey?
The soul in me is trying
To find that first light of day.
Leaves brown on their trees
Birds fall from the sky
Fireflies aren't lighting
Night, oh hi, lo-lonely night
Night, hello lo-lonely night
The world around me is dying
And I can't help but see
The cars by me keep driving
Away, away from what we need.
Obey, they say what what we need.
Chords: F Fadd9 F Cmaj7 C6 (repeated)
Strum: DDUUDU DUD UUDU DDUUDU DDUUDU
To Sea (or not to Sea)
Sometimes I think that I’ve lived too long
My joints as I walk scrape and scream
The breath in my lungs is shallow and weak
The heart in my chest coarse and mean
As long as I’ve lived, It’s been under these waves
That batter me down to the sand
And my poor muscles just can give no more
Though somehow, somehow I stand
But I fear that now I can stand no more
As I look to the ocean ahead
And the soft sunny beach so far gone to the east
While I endure the existence at hand
Seventeen when I told my dad
That I felt I was wasting my life
And nothing has changed, and nothing will change
To make standing worth all its strife