Stuck

I feel stuck.  I feel unable.  I feel, well, a little bit tipsy.

Drinking Japanese whisky and watching Sons of Anarchy is a good way to pass an evening.

This summer was interesting to say the least.  May:  Finishing college, bartending for the best money I've ever made, officially dating a girl for the first time in years, and working on a high-potential documentary.  And by the end of summer: spent an extra $1,300 to graduate three months late, lost my job, lost the girl, and hated the documentary gig.  Hence why I ran away for a spell.  But that only delayed my problems.

Now I am working as a backwait (aka: busser).  I am still not getting paid for the film work that I have spent probably close to 500 hours on.  I am living in a house in "China" as Kassey likes to refer to it for its extreme southerly orientation with a racist roommate who possesses firearms (sorry Lan, had to mention it in some capacity).  I kind of have one close friend and no prospects for a serious relationship with a girl.  And $3,000 of debt on top of my twenty-some thousand of student loans that is coming due.

I took a "good hard look" at myself in the mirror last night.  I think it was the first time I've ever really experienced that saying.  You start to notice things about yourself.  I noticed that my right eye is slightly smaller, and lower than my left.  I have known my features to not be perfectly symmetrical, but I didn't notice the eye thing before.  But beyond that exterior imperfection, I looked in to my eyes and saw my shortcomings.  The distance I have fallen from where I would like to be.  And I gave myself a little drunken-pep-talk.  It seemed fitting.

I'm trying to figure out what I want from life.  Scratch that.  I'm trying to figure out the best way to get what I want out of life.  And I am realizing that this is no easy task.

I feel the victim of consequence.  I made no choices that landed me in the place I am now.  It just sort of happened.  Maybe a little more due diligence would have kept me from where I am, but it definitely wasn't negligence.

All I know is I need to keep striving.  Need to keep pushing for what I want.  And that's a difficult thing.  But I am starting to feel that this is what it means to be an adult.  To be a "man."  That despite the shit, I need to make things happen.  Somehow.

I look around myself and put things in perspective.  We are all in a world of shit.  But it sure is a beautiful, steaming pile.  And I wouldn't trade it for the world.  Okay, maybe for 23 grand to get me out of debt, but are you really gonna hold that against me?

Cecelia

I should be writing a philosophy paper and/or editing a film right now, but of course I am inspired to write my first post in months on Blogspot.

I am kind of seeing someone now.  Or on the road to seeing someone.  Let's just say I have a lady friend.  We have had three dates.  I don't know how I feel about all of this.  Let's just say I am processing.

It has been nice.  She is cool, fun, intelligent, real.  But this is the first time I have ever just dated someone.  It is odd being so intimate with someone that I do not really know all that well.  While I feel I have learned a lot in a short amount of time, we are still forming those relational ties that make you feel like you know somebody.  Still feeling each other out.  Still learning who the other person is to the extent that one can learn about another, and feel comfortable with them.  But it has been comfortable thus far.

One of the things that I am a little concerned about is how she feels about me.  I am not sure what she is looking for as a far as a relationship goes.  Hell, I am not really even sure what I am looking for currently. Something somewhat consistent.  Though I have never done this dating thing where you get instantly intimate with someone and then face the possibility of moving on in a month or two.

She is also the most "worldly" girl I have been with, having only semi-recently left the Christian life.  Which is both nice and unnerving at the same time.  Having more secular friends is one thing, but dating someone is another thing entirely.  It solidifies things for myself in a way.

I think what it really boils down to is: I am new at this, and unsure about how to proceed, and there is a lot of pressure involved in this dating game.  But I think I am doing alright.  And if it doesn't work out, I already know what song I will be singing.

-Oh, I am also anxious about graduating, cause I may have fucked myself with this stupid little one credit course I forgot to show up to a number of times.  Hopefully not though!

Uniform

It still smells of death.  I can feel the dried blood with each step I take through the glares of unfamiliar eyes.  Will they realize I am not one of them?  That I don't belong by their campfires at night?  That the food they offer me, the nutrients that help warm my body alongside theirs, could be the same nutrients that help precipitate their death?  A death akin to the man's whose uniform I now bear.

The stains could have come from anywhere.

"Do you know Klosterneuburg?"

I knew the way.

The stains could have come from anywhere.

The pants sit too low.  There was no time for tailoring.  No time to be picky.  If it's anything that could give me away it's this; my pants aren't long enough.  This man was shorter than me.  If I gain any perspective from wearing his uniform, it will be skewed by height.  I wonder what varied perspective a few inches could bring?  There's a thought, given away by the cut of my trousers.

"Time is of the essence.  I hope you are a strong swimmer."

I've swam in a few lakes.  Treading the cool water on a warm, summer's afternoon.  Now I sit on the edge of the Dunabe, the largest river of this region, contemplating passage.  It may be August, but it's dark out; cold.  This current threatens my life, and so another man may fall victim to death within this uniform.

Maybe it will wash away the stains.