March 27, 2004 :: 5:34 p.m.
episode #1,156, in which I wash my hair with the shampoo of depression
I opened up this little box totally prepared to write in it. But now I can't think of anything to say, really. All I've done today is walk the dog and eat a yogurt.
I remember life being a lot more interesting that this. I have vague memories of hanging out with people, doing things, having fun. Of not sitting cooped up in my cluttered bedroom all day. I have four friends - Adam, Joey, Joe, and Amanda. I see Adam regularly enough, if not for as long as I'd like, but we seem to have fallen into a rut of never actually doing anything. Joey and Joe are great fun, but I never see them anymore. They're busy renovating their house, which is great for them - but crappy for me. And Amanda lives in Philly, so... yeah. It's more a memory of a friendship that doesn't exist anymore. And that's fine, you know? I love her to bits and miss her a lot, but life takes people in different directions. Hers is there. Mine is here. Distance ensues.
The difference is that she likes where her life has taken her. I don't, mostly because it hasn't actually taken me anywhere. It's my fault, to be certain - I have a lack of motivation that is rivaled only by people under general anesthesia. I have very few goals, technically speaking. I don't really have any career goals. I don't want to accomplish anything grand or important or even specific. I just want a little apartment and a cat and a chrome toaster and Adam, if he wants to join me there. I don't particularly care how I get there.
Although I suppose I would like to feel that spark - drive, desire, motivation - if only to know what's it's like. I'm not very passionate about things; it's kind of depressing. Even things that I used to be passionate about have sort of lost their shine. Once upon a time I was an avid reader - not so much anymore. It's not a lack of time, it's a lack of interest. I used to really enjoy writing, but now it doesn't do much for me. I guess I don't feel like I have much worth saying, or the talent to say it properly. I don't draw very often anymore, because I don't enjoy it like I used to. I really don't have any hobbies that bring me a whole lot of satisfaction or happiness or even that just keep me occupied. It's pathetic.
My life in general is just not in that great of a place right now. I'm always alone. My house feels like a crypt - deal and empty and quiet. No one talks to each other. My parents don't even like each other anymore. My mom is never home, always distracted, unapproachable. My dad, when he's here, may just as well not be. He's either shut up in his bedroom or listening to the news so loudly that it drowns out any efforts at conversation. Not that I make any. I rarely exchange more than pleasantries with my dad, for a lot of reasons. Mason is... 16. That about says it all. And we're not similar in the least. So I don't talk to anyone, and no one talks to me, and I have the overwhelming feeling that they don't even actually care that much about me. I'm just here, a big, sucking financial burden.
School is unpleasant. Boring. Frustrating. Occasionally humiliating, often pointless. Overall just a big lesson in feeling bad about myself. Which, as we know, is a subject that I've already earned my Ph.D. in.
[Four hours later... ]
Adam came over, and then he left to go play music with Brian and Co. I'm glad he's getting back into it - he's always complaining about having no one to jam with. So I'm feeling crappy - stuffed up, sore, kind of hungry - and watching Angel, killing time. Adam is coming back after he's done at Brian's, but until then all I've got to do is eat dinner and possibly walk the dog, who's been really antsy since it started getting warm out. I should be finishing my Drawing homework, but alas. The interest is gone.
It's so nice outside. I wish I felt like enjoying it.
back & forth
Wait, there's more!
I like pina coladas - March 30, 2005
must... finish... projects... - March 22, 2005
Mr. Postman delivers the good stuff - March 18, 2005
when everything is bad - March 16, 2005
of fruits and menstruation - March 15, 2005