Mood: fukken tired.
Now Playing: good time, electrico
stayed up late again. it's 1 in the morning(or at least it was when i first sat down and keyed in whatever), and i just can't get a lot of things out of my head. I know, i know, i fucking know, all right? I had the whole fukcing weekend to think about things, and i STILL can't set out even a damn string straight. I HAVE figured out one thing, though. Well, two actually. One, i am so fucking worthless, i cannot even save a single fucking... friend. Whatever. Two, i am so fucking up everything right now, and if i want to save even just a single person, i have to save my fucking self first.
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Truthfully, i've been mulling this blogpost for months now; its been sitting peacefully in my backburner with some titles like "Love, Pain and other Forms of Cheese" or "The Perfect Cure for Insomnia",
Since i cannot stand the mention of it(you should have seen my face as i keyed in Love on the title Love, Pain and other Forms of Cheese), i will simply refer to the L word as The L Word, since i believe it merits all caps, than lesbians, losers, lasers and the like.
Anyway. The L Word. My view on The L Word is simple; it echoes Dr. Cox's line from Scrubs. In this orgasmically good episode, he rants about what relationships are like in front of this psych undergrad who was filming the cast's thoughts for some project or something. Then suddenly, when i couldn't bring myself to stop laughing, Cox comes in with these lines;
Relationships dont work the way they do on television and in the movies: Will they, wont they, and then they finally do and theyre happy forever gimme a break. Nine out of ten of them end because they werent right for each other to begin with, and half the ones that get married get divorced, anyway.
And Im telling you right now, through all this stuff, I have not become a cynic, I havent. Yes, I do happen to believe that love is mainly about pushing chocolate-covered candies and, you know, in some cultures, a chicken. You can call me a sucker, I dont care, cause I dobelieve in it. Bottom lineis the couples that are truly right for each other wade through the same crap as everybody else, but, the big difference is, they dont let it take em down
And Im telling you right now, through all this stuff, I have not become a cynic, I havent. Yes, I do happen to believe that love is mainly about pushing chocolate-covered candies and, you know, in some cultures, a chicken. You can call me a sucker, I dont care, cause I dobelieve in it. Bottom lineis the couples that are truly right for each other wade through the same crap as everybody else, but, the big difference is, they dont let it take em down
And i guess i do too. I do believe. The only difference is, people like me don't hve any idea where the hell their other halves are. They give an effort, yes, to find em - hell, it's probably the only thing they're good at. But in the end, many of the poor shmucks like me run around in circles, cause that's another thing we're good at. Running in fucking goddamn circles.
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Im keeping my hopes up that i was just terribly and horribly mistaken. I mean, i know what i saw. I know what i read. I just hope that i know when to stop. This sucks.
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Y'know, i sometimes think that the whole writing population are just miserable sons of bitches who are just fed up bitching about their own lives that they want to channel it into something concrete - like paper and pen, for instance. Why? It helps relieve the painaslkdsld, yknow. This act of transferring something so valuable to something so remarkably mundane is (perhaps to many a writer) a sacred act, one which transcends borders and race. Plus this sacred act of transferring emotions? It pisses other people off when you write horribly, so yeah, i guess that's an added bonus.
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So it's morning, about 6 i think; the clouds are still there, and i love it. Just this 3 or 4, i think, there was this huge downpour i had to run upstairs and grab my jacket, lest i freeze to death. Cooly.
I am so fuckin hoping for a suspended class tomorrow.
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You know what hurts the most? Fukken everything. It's when you realize that you would still take a goddamn bullet for a friend you know you don't even fucking recognize.
