Wednesday, June 13, 2012
A bad morning.
Alarm didn't go off, late for work. Out the door, note that my car has been looted. All cool and valuable stuff gone. Boss is mad and calls. Bad morning, but good day.
Saturday, June 9, 2012
Friday, June 8, 2012
Alone for a while.
I've been doing improv by myself for a while, and it feels very wrong. There is something depressing to it. The same sort of sentiment exists for someone who drinks alone. Happy or sad, it doesn't seem to matter. Out in the middle of no where, in some field, walking around all by yourself. After a while you switch back and forth and do silly things, and once in a while you say something as loud as you can, and no one hears you. You should be feeling happy, or at least, you shouldn't be thinking how this isn't right, that someone should be there, but you do. You do, and even if it wasn't the case at all before, you feel sad. If you've been drinking, I'm not sure what you do at that point, but if its improv, the scene stops, and you sit down, and you cry.
Monday, June 4, 2012
Saturday, June 2, 2012
Drifting away.
I am getting to the point where I am now avoiding social interaction. I write, I read, I exercise and draw all by myself. I even did an improv scene by myself today. I'm going out of my way to find places people never go, and then giving myself excuses to go there. It isn't that I dislike all my friends, or that I find them to be a headache, I just like being by myself. Some of them have problems, that they don't want to talk about, others are mad at things, but they don't want to talk about it, and some of them just don't like being around me, and are only there because someone else dragged them there. And then there are some that I just haven't seen in a while. There is something very liberating about just being with yourself. I had a conversation out loud with a bird on the side of the trail and it was fine. I walked barefoot on hot hot sand and it felt great. I like the company of myself. Its nice.
Friday, June 1, 2012
I never grew up.
When I moved to the second house in California, I was sitting on the lawn and some kid went by on his skateboard. He stopped and looked at me.
"Want to be friends?"
"Sure."
And that is how I got my first best friend. Later, I found out he was good at skateboarding and I was good at roller-blading. We both loved soccer and running and asking questions and both of us were religious. We played card games and video games, but that wasn't what kept us as friends. It was that we both thought that the world wasn't nearly magic enough. And that putting some in it was the best idea ever. I don't remember hardly anything specific, except that I was often a wizard fighter, and so was he. Sometimes we were no one special, but the world was. Some days we were hiding from dinosaurs, other days venturing to the tops of the highest mountains to find the gem that would give us ultimate power. We sword fought too. There were always rules so no one would get hurt too badly, so it was always fun, always worth the bruises and scratches. We never talked to each other at school; you had other friends, and I was really weird. I didn't even have a single friend and I wore black all the time. But that didn't really bother me. As long as we could keep the world magical and interesting I was ohkay that you didn't want to be seen with me. But I remember that slowly, you didn't want to anymore. They slowly turned into games, and I took them far too seriously. Eventually, we were just too old to play make believe anymore, and so you didn't want to hang out with me. And by then I had found anime, and had made friends for the first time in a long time, so even though I was sad, I was ohkay. That's what I told myself.
That was when I was ten. Now I'm almost twenty. And more than anything, I still want to play make believe. Granted, I call it "improvisation" now, and I do it in front of large groups of people who may even one day consider to pay me. But that's what I want. I want to make people happy, and I want to do improv. I feel like that if you saw me now, you would still be disappointed in me. I've become a disappointment to almost everyone I know, in one way or the other. But, just like back then, I try to do things that I won't regret. And I think I like that more. I like doing things that I feel are right. Things that I think are best. Try everything as many times as I need to, and ask every question that needs to be asked. Maybe I'm a bad person. I'm not really what someone would call a good friend, at least, I do a really good job of sabotaging myself from getting such a title . But I am curious. And I am adventurous. But most importantly, I still see the magic in things.
Today I went out to exercise. I did some jogging, some running, but mostly, I punched through the Horde, performed silly walks for the committee, tried to catch some flying smoothie snatchers, and caught a breath as I watched my imaginary friend wave over a dragon and fly away for a while.
I never grew up, and even if I'm too scared to tell anyone, I'll be ohkay. That's what I tell myself.
"Want to be friends?"
"Sure."
And that is how I got my first best friend. Later, I found out he was good at skateboarding and I was good at roller-blading. We both loved soccer and running and asking questions and both of us were religious. We played card games and video games, but that wasn't what kept us as friends. It was that we both thought that the world wasn't nearly magic enough. And that putting some in it was the best idea ever. I don't remember hardly anything specific, except that I was often a wizard fighter, and so was he. Sometimes we were no one special, but the world was. Some days we were hiding from dinosaurs, other days venturing to the tops of the highest mountains to find the gem that would give us ultimate power. We sword fought too. There were always rules so no one would get hurt too badly, so it was always fun, always worth the bruises and scratches. We never talked to each other at school; you had other friends, and I was really weird. I didn't even have a single friend and I wore black all the time. But that didn't really bother me. As long as we could keep the world magical and interesting I was ohkay that you didn't want to be seen with me. But I remember that slowly, you didn't want to anymore. They slowly turned into games, and I took them far too seriously. Eventually, we were just too old to play make believe anymore, and so you didn't want to hang out with me. And by then I had found anime, and had made friends for the first time in a long time, so even though I was sad, I was ohkay. That's what I told myself.
That was when I was ten. Now I'm almost twenty. And more than anything, I still want to play make believe. Granted, I call it "improvisation" now, and I do it in front of large groups of people who may even one day consider to pay me. But that's what I want. I want to make people happy, and I want to do improv. I feel like that if you saw me now, you would still be disappointed in me. I've become a disappointment to almost everyone I know, in one way or the other. But, just like back then, I try to do things that I won't regret. And I think I like that more. I like doing things that I feel are right. Things that I think are best. Try everything as many times as I need to, and ask every question that needs to be asked. Maybe I'm a bad person. I'm not really what someone would call a good friend, at least, I do a really good job of sabotaging myself from getting such a title . But I am curious. And I am adventurous. But most importantly, I still see the magic in things.
Today I went out to exercise. I did some jogging, some running, but mostly, I punched through the Horde, performed silly walks for the committee, tried to catch some flying smoothie snatchers, and caught a breath as I watched my imaginary friend wave over a dragon and fly away for a while.
I never grew up, and even if I'm too scared to tell anyone, I'll be ohkay. That's what I tell myself.
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