A nihilist's apology

Soooo, I have this self-awareness streak a mile wide.

And its painful.

And something I fear is far less common in others than previously thought.

And sounds trite even to myself, dear reader.

And for that I apologize. I am a person capable of fierce happiness, shining moments of joy and celebration. The smallest things can bring me intense cheer and faith in humanity.

But this volatility has a backswing.

These moments of brief hopelessness. And I try to resist them. I thought about deleting my last post, embarrassed not only that the words are committed to paper, but moreso that I am even capable of forming them.

Maggie is supposed to be the happy one. The friend always good for a laugh. And I don't always mind being that person, but sometimes, it takes a toll on me.

Life is always what you make of it, but the flipside of that coin is that life is only what you make of it.

So I'll let the feelings stand. Written. Thought. Spoken. Felt.

But I'll strive to write more of the happy ones.

And indeed, to feel them.

Everybody takes

This is a town full of takers.

We are an entitled generation full of the gimmies.

People who answer every call, important or no. We always want them to hold the elevator. We expect people to treat us with kid gloves, even though we would never do the same for them.

But maybe we're on to something.

See, the thing of it is, none of it matters. No one is ever going to care about us the way we care about ourselves. It is up to us to make ourselves happy, content, cherished.

So why not take, and make the best of it?

In 200 years, its not going to matter at all. Even the most memorable of us all will be forgotten like the Great Pacific Garbage Patch. The most charming and successful will be as roadkill on the 95 south in the middle of July.

We may as well make this brief time we have the most pleasant. Maybe life is supposed to just be this string of small comforts. Silly little ways to pass the time well enough.

Everyone has to schedule their own things just so, for maximum comfort.

Strategically inviting certain people to certain things for the most amusement.

Just to drown out the gaping, yawning hole before you that you can't bring yourself to name.

Best not to think like that, carry on.

Like giving a toddler your keys to play with. It doesn't really matter if they are reverse engineering the steering column or sticking the keys in their eyes, so long as they're quiet.

Perhaps that's why we have our silly little hobbies. The gossip and false romantic intrigue.

Something to pass the time. It doesn't ultimately matter if you were tall or skinny or chubby or funny. If you had a lasting, tempestuous love or more one night stands than an Ikea sale (zing). Teacher, musician, starlet, Costco parking attendant, cable guy, crazy cat lady, sea captain, monkey shit shoveler, or friggin astronaut.

It doesn't end up mattering.

We want to be comfortable, pampered, and CHERISHED, damn it! We want to be treated quite pleasantly without any fuss at all, and for free, thankyouverymuch. None of this "giving" shenanigans.

Don't you know what we're going through?

So plaster on that smile, and make another coffee date. One more day down.

Go to that new class at the gym- wasn't that fun? Almost made you forget for a while.

Let's check the fridge one more time. Still no snacks? Back to the couch then. Ooh! The commercials are over.

Did you hear what she said about him? I KNOW- the NERVE of it all! Juicy news, indeed.

And while you're at it, take one more minute for yourself to get across the street.

THEY can wait.

After all, what does it matter?

This is YOU we're talking about.

A glimpse behind the veil

A conversation between @monkeyskunk *my bff* and I:

Monkeyskunk: The last one we saw was where the guy got stabbed in the heart with a joustinstick
whateverthefuck those are called

me: joustinstick = new angterm
fuck
new WANGterm
also: lance.

Monkeyskunk: I knew what you meant
oh yea
like scoopies

me: WANNNNNNNGJOKE
like scoopies
this would be utter jibberish to anyone but us
LIFIESH

Monkeyskunk: LIFIESH!

Also, (seemingly unrelated,) Game of Thrones is Awesome, Amirite?

Pirates of the Carribbean 4 *thud*

ok, so I get to go to an early screening.
Tonight.

And I'm losing my shit. See, every Pirates movie has come out on my birthday weekend, Memorial Day weekend, (the ONLY positive of a memdayweekend birthday,) and we all go in a group and see it. Usually with dinner. And home made tshirts. And probably a hat or two.

But this year, it snuck up on me and I'm FREAKING OUT.

I need more time!

And don't get me wrong, I was jealous as a eunuch at a chippendale's show that a friend of mine has ALREADY seen the film, (bitch.)

And yet, I feel like I didn't get to geek out about it enough! Sure, I followed Jerry Bruckheimer and the promotional account on Twitter. Yes, I watched all of the materials I could get my hands on ahead of time. Of course I talked myself out of getting gold caps on my teeth so I could be more like The Johnny.

But its too soon. This is in all likelihood the LAST new pirates movie! And I've fallen for it before! After "At World's End" I grieved like I needed to. Sure, I've carried the pain with me since, but damn it, I was functional.

And now, this?

Another taste? This is giving Black Tar Heroine to a recovering alcoholic.

I know I'm going to spiral.

I'll be tempted to stop showering.
And wear boots, even when its hot out.
Don't get me STARTED on my casual vocabulary.

I think the worst part of all will be the new daydreams. My mind hasn't left this universe that's part historical, part beach-bar, and part myth and lore. And now, this fourth installment will only add more fuel to the fire.

You know what, that's fine Capt Jack Sparrow.
Take me.
Take all of me.
Your longing for adventure and hapless ability to pull anything off, especially when you don't deserve it has me charmed.
And you're hooks-down the sexiest character in fiction.

I'm enlisting.
Leftenant Dempsey, of the Black Pearl, reporting for duty.

Weigh Anchor, lads, we're off.