An Old Sweet Song...

It's that time again.

There is a song by the Mills Brothers called You Always Hurt The One You Love. I love that song.

You always break the kindest heart with a hasty word you can't recall.
So if I broke your heart last night it's because I love you most of all.

I honestly think that forming serious relationships with people, whether they be friendships or acquaintances or romantic interests, is one of the most sure fire ways to fuck yourself up. I mean, your likely to screw the acquaintances, mainly because you don't know them well enough to give a shit what they really think. And then, with the friendships, say you don't see each other for a long while, time passes, things happen, and then they have all of a sudden been demoted to the title of "acquaintance". Shit! How did that happen?! I don't know, do you? And then the romantic interests; part time lovers, back door men, sweethearts, boyfriends, husbands, wives, girlfriends, friends with benefits, etc. Well, the odds are usually that you are not going to be satisfied with your first pick. Why not? Well, because we always think the grass is always greener on the other side. Something better is out there. Maybe. By the time we know what we want we are too damn old to be getting picky, and have to take what we can get. But I digress.

The reason I'm writing this, is because I think it's a little bit funny how these things seem to run like clockwork. Remember this crap is leaking from a 20-year-old. We make friends, we lose them. We don't necessarily run them off, but life takes its toll and people fall out of touch. That's just the way it goes. Fact. You don't still shoot the shit with all your childhood friends. Some of them have been knocked up, killed, married, and missing. Do you care? Well, yeah, for a minute.

"Oh Katie's knocked up? I'm not surprised. Boy? Girl? Who with?"

You don't give a shit. It's just an alternative to talking about the weather. At least where I come from.

But the curious thing is the seeming blindness to this whole cycle. As Stewie would say.....

"So...ugh...hows that novel comin'? Got an interesting protagonist? A little romance? Deceit? Friends become enemies? Enemies become friends?"

It's like a cheap book you pick up at the grocery store. (I never understood why people look their literature *cough* at the Piggly Wiggly)

Once again, getting off topic. Not that there is a real topic here anyway. It's more or less a cluttered rant.

Anyway, I hate myself for being, or feeling, smart enough to recognize these recurring patterns in my social circles. Count the friends, count the patterns. Count the lovers, count the patterns. Don't count the acquaintances, after all, they are the demotions to friends, right?

So what I'm getting at, is, why can't we sort of circumvent all that bullshit and just come clean with people from the beginning? The problem with the whole process is that people are so optimistic as to think that everything is always going to be sunshine and laughter. I'm not trying to be George Carlin depressing. I feel like this is some crap he would write. I just mean, would it not be better to be realistic?

"Hey, we were good friends this past year. I really enjoyed the time we spent together. I'm going to Ireland, I'll send you a post card."

Easy. Well.... easy enough without being a prick about it. You would not say uh...

"So, I'm going out of the country for a while. Don't hold your breath."

I guess you could. But you would only do that to the acquaintances you ran into at the bank or something. Just to let them know not to bother calling.

My problem is this. I keep going in circles. I don't think people are bad. At least, I don't think people are as realistically depressing as me, but the fact is that it can't always be the mural of peace and tranquility. If life were a painting, I would be sitting in a hot tub right now knocking back a martini listening to Glenn Miller in Vegas. But no, instead I'm sitting on a 25 year old mattress in South Carolina, looking at a pile of laundry that has yet to be done. That's life.

I beg you. Whoever you are. Don't make the mistakes I make. Don't be so nice. Don't be so optimistic. It hurts to lose your friends. It hurts to lose your lovers. People come and go. People get promoted and demoted and forgotten and lost. It's not hard to find good people, you just have to know where to look, and be hard headed enough to not let them get away from you. If they do, because they sometimes do, don't let it get you down. For me, all it took was finding a few good friends, whether they be lost or leaving, to realize that there are people out there who make for good conversation.

The mistake is thinking that they are eternal. People are not fixtures in your life. Friends don't make for good accessories. Lovers even are by no means easy to keep.

I'm going to go get in my tub and pretend it's a jacuzzi. :)

Lets try again...

For the longest time I have been writing poorly through various outlets. It seems like every several months or so, I get the urge to write, knowing full well that no one at all will read what it is that I write. Luckily, that's not stopping me.

Over the past few days, I have been dragging my feet through Great Expectations. So far, I'm enjoying the book. Unfortunately, since my reason for reading it is coming about Monday morning, I doubt I'll finish it. While I read, the seeming lack of progress nags at me until I am forced to put it down and distract my attention. I get better at discouraging my self as each chapter passes, knowing that my efforts are in vain. It aggravates me so much because I enjoy the book, but it seems inevitable that I'll have to resort to watching some poorly adapted version of it online some way or another. I hate doing that. I shouldn't rob myself at the only subject I remotely enjoy.

On top of that, I have been distantly aggravated by the urge to feed my WoW addiction. An addiction to video games is a hard one to explain. This might be dramatic, but it's sort of like trying to explain PMS or depression to someone who is lucky enough to not have to go through with those things. I have spent countless days of my life and numerous dollars from my wallet on games. I'm not going to bother trying to explain the weight of it today. It's much to heavy.

Speaking of addictions, I managed to quit smoking. I said I would quit after the last of my exams in May, and by God I did it! I am still in awe of my resistance. I smoked for 6 long years. I spent thousands of dollars on my crutch. Don't doubt my will, but do take into consideration the lengths I went to to quit.

Conveniently enough, I smoked my final Marlboro a Sunday morning a few days prior to my operation. I read a book called The Easy Way to Stop Smoking by Allen Carr as suggested by a friend of mine and some how it got me in the right mind set to kick the vice. Fortunately, it was time for me to have my "wisdom" teeth cut out of my head. What an experience. I was so fucked up and high on pain killers for a week that I didn't think about smoking once. The physical urge passed with the day and I could think of nothing but the blood in my mouth and the swimming in my head. The most priceless thing about that experience was all the reassurance I got from friends and family.

"Oh, it's nothing at all! You will recover in just a few days! Don't waste time worrying!"

Even tonight, months after the ordeal, I raise a well placed finger to the people that tried to sugar coat that incapacitating experience. Writing about it now, I can remember the pain that I was in. I sometimes wondered about how wonderful it would be if I were waited on hand and foot, while getting as much sleep as I could, and watching as much The Price Is Right! as I could stomach. Well, I found out.

Oh I slept! I slept for days. I was on my neighbors couch for a week. I couldn't eat. When I woke from sleep it wasn't because I was refreshed, it was because I needed to dope myself up some more. Despite the fact that the medication made me disoriented and weak, I chose it over the brain-splitting headaches that would ensue if I tried to spare myself the incompetence. It was absolutely miserable. Imagine trying to fight a yawn for the sake of the gaping wounds in the back of your head. I couldn't even laugh at Drew Carry's sarcasm and blatant boredom without filling my mouth with blood.

Smartly, I foresaw this ordeal as the perfect opportunity to wave farewell to my favorite past-time; filling myself with the warm enveloping smoke that recklessly emitted from a Marlboro Red.

Was it worth it? Of course. I'm going to save my life and my money. I'll smell a little better and my teeth and fingers won't be marked with yellow grime. I admit, however, that I can't deny my mental addiction. 6 years of wonderful memories were formed around Phillip Morris and rock 'n' roll. The Elizabeth that I have known for so long feels somewhat incomplete without a pack of Marlboros to her name.

Yet it seems I am a different person than I was before.

Until next time.