For various reasons, the last few weeks have been pretty hard on me. This has been the case for many of my friends, but all I’ve wanted to do is nothing. I did join The Blind Photographers and that has sparked my want to write music again. In addition to this, a now sober Damian and I are jamming out some of the songs that we were working on with Greg.
I’ve thought about my next project, post Another False Alarm. I was thinking about writing some stories about my childhood, why I have scars on my legs and why I was scared of sex for so long. That sort of thing.
For the past year and a half, I’ve been trying to stay physically active, post breakup. Vanity be damned, over the weekend I was an extra in an acquaintance’s video and I wore a super unflattering shirt. Within the 20 seconds that I’m on camera, the last year of working out deflated quickly.
Physical appearance aside, I’m probably in the best shape that I’ve ever been, including the ability to run up San Francisco’s hills without much problem. And yet, I feel like I look fucking terrible. I know it shouldn’t matter and it’s shallow, but that doesn’t make it any less depressing.
It’s not a secret that I keep myself perpetually busy so as to stave myself from anxiety and depression. There is one thing that has been difficult for me to learn during counseling, which is how to relax. Like, I can’t sit there and just take it easy unless I’ve run myself down to the point of not being able to move. My mind is constantly on and I can’t/have trouble with shutting down thoughts or keeping it quiet.
Honestly, I envy anyone who’s able to just legitimately chill out.
Last week, I joined my friend, RC’s, band, the Blind Photographers. Apparently, these bros have their shit together because over four practices, we have a bunch of complete songs and a couple shows booked. If you’re in Seattle, you can watch my debut with the band on April 13th at the Wild Rose (yes, THAT Wild Rose).
RIYL: Chromeo, Robin Thicke, Prince
It’s very possible that I have a panic attack every day that I come into the office. The other aspects of my life are great, but a good part of my day is spent in an environment where I’ve gone from a standpoint of wanting to save the world to being complacent and misanthropic.
This place is a circle jerk where people are jockeying for position to make themselves look better, all the while ignoring the simple fact that we’re supposed to be helping people who are in need.
My disdain for people and my bitterness is enhanced by being here, but because of the way my life is set up, I can’t leave until I find something better. For now, I just have to spend 9 hours of my day being really unhappy.
Since 1989, James and I have been friends and naturally, here’s an ebb and flow in relationships. Like Corey once said, “As we get older, you have to make an effort in maintaining those friendships.” There are certainly people with whom I’ll make more of an effort with, chiefly because those are relationships that I value dearly. With James, a guy that I’ve known for most of my life, things took a nose dive rapidly.
I had time to think about it this morning when Jimmy Eat World’s “A Sunday” came up on shuffle and it’s part of a story that I wrote (“New Beers Eve”) and how James and I sat on the hood of my car drunkenly trying to figure out the meaning of that song (as all 18 year olds are apt to do).
Last year, I was going through a really rough period and I reached out to James and he was nowhere to be found. I seldom rely on people, but it was definitely a time when I really needed my friends. Some people reached back and James wasn’t one of them.
It dawned of me that our friendship has just come to its end. Not for anything bad, per se, but our fundamental differences bubbled up to a point where it could not be ignored. I don’t particularly think that I fit in the world of a Conservative, gun-toting, single guy in his early 30s, just as much as he doesn’t necessarily fit in whatever I have going on in my world.
While that statement may seem completely narrowminded, I assure you, it’s not.
Things fall apart and I’m okay with that. There are people who legitimately have my back and even though some of them live on the other side of the country, it’s better than feeling isolated.
I started noticing that I’m looking more like my dad. It’s kind of scary when you start to realize that you’re the spitting image of someone who you’ve grown to resent and their entire existence in your life is based around stories involving cocaine and throwing you out on Thanksgiving. It’s a weird thing to wrap my head around, but at the very least, I know that I’m already a better parent.
Started new meds last night and I’m not the biggest fan. It has the same problems at my last one (nightmares, inability to sleep through the night), but it impairs my basic functions more so. So I can’t even walk down the hall without bumping into something right now, and I took that shit like 11 hours ago
Sometimes I read Stephanie’s tumblr and I’m like “How did we ever become friends?”