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?
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The brain is unstable—hence we write.
2 comments:
This is the second or third time I've read this, maybe the fourth, and I still can't figure out why Kassey refers to the house as "China." Is it because of the anti-Asian (or non-white) sentiments he has, and so China is the polar opposite of where you're actually living?
Wow, forgive me if I'm just not getting it.
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You wrote this almost a month ago, and so I'm wonder where you're at now. The idea of you giving a drunken pep talk to yourself in the mirror made me feel weird. I guess it just seems very personal and vulnerable, so imagining it made me feel as if I was encroaching on that sacred moment. Haha
If I ever identify with what you've wrote, it'll most likely be after I'm finished with grad school. That' when the reality of loans would set it. It would also be when I'd either find or not find a long-term job.
The similarities and differences aren't all even, though, since for me, my hope in any situation is to see the good and purposefulness in it all. And, even when I can't seem to see it in my circumstances, there is still a faint hope of redemption.
I think this may be why people seem to identify "crutch"-like attributes in faith communities. Maybe they see how the oft-shittiness of the world lends itself to a social construction of religion, or hope. This makes sense to me.
In the same way, however, similar things could be said about the modern construction of "love," especially if you were a French philosopher in the last century. It seems that we all have faith in one concept or another. Maybe for you, it's faith that there's something greater to attain in this world, some greater experience to behold. And, in it, or in those fleeting moments, you would feel a sense of fulfillment or contentment.
This post seems to tell me that. You have this inner pull and desire to strive - whatever that means - to be somewhere (or someone) you feel that you should be. I wonder if this is what you feel, and if it is, why you feel this way? We all want to be happy. We all want to be fulfilled and content. But what's the purpose in it? Why do you need to be a man? Why do you need to make things happen? What's the point?
Temporal bliss in fleeting contemplations?
I'm asking myself the same question, and maybe everyone in our generation is implicitly doing the same: What does man gain by all the toil at which he toils under the sun?
I GAVE MYSELF A TALK IN THE MIRROR LAST NIGHT ABOUT MY LICENTIOUS BEHAVIOR.
"Youre being so fucking selfish and mean and making people like you and then being like thanks for diner sorry im broken bye. NOT COOL SUZ. Who are you? Better than this. You care about people. These are nice men."
You have come so far since writing this in friendships and happiness (i hope) and prospects.
Landon suggested I be your wingwoman. We should try it. I think it could work.
I just read Landons thing and I have nothing near as profound to say. Other than I am here for you in whatever context you need. We can have coffee or watch movies or hike mountains (!!!!!). This is an adventure. And I'm sure glad we get to do it together for now.
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