Upgrade U

I'm sitting at work, for some reason listening to Beyoncé, thinking that I've not appreciated Beyoncé's music enough, but more prominently thinking about an awkward series of interactions I just had at my house, wondering whether or not I should be embarrassed if awkward things happen in my own digs, trying to shake off the whole thing in general so I can do some fucking work, and finally attempting to finish this post, ending a drought of activity for this sorry little on-line journal of mine.

Here's what I wrote and left unfinished and unposted yesterday at work (yes, after sipping a certain measure of amber liquid):

"A few things happened last night. None of them were important.

I am unsurprised, yet dismayed all the same, to find that my friends seem to grow funnier and more rich in character every day, while I just get drunker and sadder. Sure, it's fine material for my forthcoming memoir, to be published by HarperCollins in 2024, but I"

It ends there. I don't really know where I was going with that--likely toward some snarky twist that would resolve the thought logically without actually having confronted its twisted mental origins. Upon the urging of a few of my housemates I will be seeing a therapist this coming week, and how that will come out I can't say. But regardless, I'm going to try and avoid the spirals into shameful, self-destructive behavior that have tended claim my mid-week activity as of late.

I don't know what "A few things happened last night" refers to; nothing actually did happen on All Hallows' Even, I simply sat around in my regular clothes and did not have great experiences with exciting people. I did lie on the couch and zone out to melancholy tunes, so, maybe that's a night well spent. I don't know.

This week might be interesting. I'll keep you posted, invisible audience.

You're Tearing Me Apart

Last night I got high and went into town to see Rebel Without a Cause. At the theater I noticed a guy from one of my classes working concessions and, due to my reactions being slowed, I stared at him for about ten seconds before realizing who he was. By that time he had noticed and tentatively waved, and I had made my awkwardness completely apparent. Normally I can use my quick wit to deflect moments of tension or social anxiety. Unfortunately, I cannot make jokes when I am high. My attempts at humor come out like the schizophrenic ramblings of a middle-school ADHD case.

I attempted to ask him for something and it came out like this: "Ah, yeah can I get some of the.... ummmm.... behind there the... over there... Junior Mints." It was among the top-five worst candy requests I have ever made.

It was all right, though. The movie was fun to watch and the Junior Mints were the perfect choice. When I got back I took a shower and drank a lot of beer. Last week I got way too excited and rowdy and really pissed off a friend--the first time I've ever done so in college. (I think.) So this time I promised myself I'd stay fairly mellow, to undercut the possibility of any more ill-advised shenanigans.

I capped off my night by throwing a pumpkin off the balcony.

College, it’s the best

I’m sitting in the library attempting to prepare notes for a presentation that I have to deliver tomorrow morning for an article I don’t really understand in a class I’m not smart enough to comprehend. Sometimes I wonder if I shouldn’t have just saved the scratch, skipped higher education, and got a job at the local DQ. Oh, who am I kidding? I’m not driven enough to make Blizzards and shitty burgers all day for small-town yokels! I need the quiet fulfillment of superfluous, occasionally inebriated academic exploration to satisfy my youthful urges.