Cusack Cliche

Rewind. Play. Pause. Play. Rewind. Play.

My life is a VHS tape. Bought brand new, watched over and over, then put on a shelf or in a box when DVDs came out. But then, I became retro-cool for a little while. The bumps and blips in the tape were character, not flaws.

I so need to be on the road right now. I’m not sad by the same things anymore. Just in general. And that’s no good. It will only lead me to one thing -- drinking. And I don’t want to feel that way. I like drinking. I always will. I won’t ever stop completely. Unless I become Mickey Mantle or something. However, I don’t want to drink because I feel it’s the only thing left.

That pit sucks. I spent too many years there. Some of those were even happy ones. I just kept drinking then because it was habit. Much like being unhappy becomes a habit. Surround yourself with guilt. With pain. With hatred. You’ll be there too. Please don’t join me.

The path out of that place is easy. All you have to do is do it. It really is that simple. Always has been. You pop out of the hole, you’re not in the hole. But your mind can put you right back in it.

Yesterday, I realized how happy I was just driving to a new place. Even though it was a place I’d pass, shit, 125 times or so going to work five times a week. Then you multiply that by going past it twice a day, and it becomes something that isn’t new. Except it was. That ability to find something interesting out of nothing has been missing too long.

Yeah, it comes back for little bits sometimes. But never stays. I want to make it stay. Grab a hold of that feeling. Of that ability. Of that desire. And not let it get away. So, I’m forcing myself to do it. So far, every day has been interesting. But, it’s only been three. Today is the fourth. I’m sure I’ll hit a snag at some point. The “woah is me” will appear and I’ll want to sit on my ass and cry about it.

Hopefully, I won’t fall for that again.

Sorry for diary-ing this writing session. While everything that comes out of my fingers as some point of reference in my real life, even the incredibly sick stuff, which there hasn’t been much of -- yet -- I don’t want it to turn into a journal. I already have one of those. Hell, if you count the print one’s I’ve got dozens. Not as many as before “the purge” but eh, why bring that bitch up?

Sad songs that had really harsh emotions attached to them haven’t been raw lately. I think I mentioned this already. My memory ain’t what it used to be. And it never was very good. It’s also selective. Which is worse than being completely absent-minded. Believe me. The arguments and shitty days and nights that come about because of a simple “oops, forgot to ask” moment are too many to list.

I learned a new word today: Cupidity. I had no idea it existed. It seems like it should be the combination of cupid and stupidity. A sort of Love Stinks summed up in just one word, and two less letters. Or how stupid it is to fall in love too easily, maybe…That guy, he’s full of cupidity. I do think I tend to fall in love too easily. But usually, the conversation doesn’t last. But when it does, it is great. Until it ends. And so far, they’ve all ended.

I look at my facebook page. There are a few people who married their high school sweethearts on there. Some made it, some didn’t. I wonder about those that did make it. They’ve never experience heartbreak. I can’t imagine that. I think back through my life, and I’ve seemingly always been dealing with it. I mean I was 11 connecting with “Somebody’s Babe” by Jackson fucking Browne. Pining for a girl that I’d fallen for in third grade, then seen twice over the next three years. Then lastly when I was 13. Who does that? John Cusack clichés, that’s who. Ha. Cusack Cliché. Good band name.

Anyways, I found that girl on facebook too. Damn facebook. At least Emily’s not on there. But back to the other. She’s married, apparently. And, she lived just a county over all those years of pining. I kind of figured that, since I kept seeing her. But I never saw her after 13. And I was at her school. I have this vague recollection of hearing her name or something at a soccer match at her school my senior year. But I wrote it off as a dream sequence.

Ha. I’m insane.

Always have been obsessively compulsed to chase the unobtainable. I’m the dog without a tail, but still chasing it.