wow. is this my wake-up call? that groggy, please don't please don't, please stop, begging to the alarm clock in my deep and resistant slumber, the transition of the cruel alert of conciousness?
i think it might be.
this past year has turned my life upside down, to the side, inside out and then spilled it all over last year's horrible shag carpeting. shit's changed. not bad, not good, not whatever. just did. life moves, you know? and here i am, laying in my dark bedroom, candles ablaze, cat at my feet, curled up in an innocent fetal position ball.
right now it's bon iver, blaring out of my iPod docking station - "flume." i still remember the first time i ever heard that song. it was a pretty meaningful moment for me, one that i've never actually admitted/shared with anyone out loud. it was a brief glimpse of self realization. that life does exist, and relationships and personal limits can't restrict it from moving forward. or something, anyway.
before bon, it was elliott smith. from a basement. xo. either/or. you know, the good stuff. the stuff that of course, i listen to in the dark with a pint full of coca cola and jack daniels. this isn't a voyage into the river of self pity, however. or even a glimpse of self loathing. more a reflection. a glimpse. of ok, before this gets better, i have to accept everything for what it really is. it is what it is. and this is it.
before elliott, yyy. the song "dull life?" shit. i can relate. but that's my own fault.
only one drink tonight, but it was savored. stiff, sure. but i just watched Breakfast at Tiffany's for the first time and it may be the first "romantic chick flick classic," whatever the fuck you want to categorize it as, that i've ever enjoyed. seriously. but the end? with the cat? and the kiss? and the rain? that's when i hightailed it to the pantry for my bourbon. . . .
thinking. and thinking. and transitioning. and moving on from a broken heart. and sewing all the lost time and joyful/joyless memories back together, in this web of sorts. web of hurt and strenght. empowerment. you know what's empowerment? deleting all your cell phone numbers.
that's what i just did. well--not all. but pretty goddamn close. 90% of my contacts were phonies. people who A) i haven't talked to in at least a year, or if I have B) am not sure why I would even want to talk to. I kept the numbers of necessity, of course. See: Landlord, Doctor, Local Chinese Take-Out, Hair Salon, Blue Cross Blue Shield, etc. I also kept family: Mother, Brother, Sister in Law, Brother/Sister in Law House, Cousin Staci. Friends? Yeah, I know who you are. And you still represent in my shitty ass piece of technology. But the thing is, my real friends? The people who actually call or email me up to see how I'm doing on a semi-regular basis (or EVER)? There's not too many of those in my phone. But I don't give a shit. Because those people who remain in my phone are true. And I'm lucky as goddamn hell to have as many as I even do. As few and far between as I may see some of these people, I know they got my back. And really, that's what counts.
But if you're one of those fade-in/fade-out, never return calls/texts or put forth an ounce of effort folk? I'm sorry, next time you call me (let's face it, yeah right), you'll probably be met with a "who's this again?" And you know what? That may make me an asshole. But I tell you this, I'm done with all the clutter. Since when did our lives turn into this sick technological instant gratification universe? Twitter this. Facebook that. Oh, I'm sooooo over Myspace, but here, check my blog. Do you have my cell? I have a blackberry so I'm not really big into talking on the phone, but text me!!!!
And guess what? Yours truly is guilty, probably mostly out of any of you, as charged of all the above. (Well, I'm too broke for a blackberry but who the fuck knows? I'm sure I'll have one with that new swanky Supervisor salary of mine before too long).
I just hate it. Whatever happened to writing letters in the mail? Sure, the postal service can suck sometimes. Patience? What the hell is that? What's the value in a tangible piece of paper with hand written communication? Pshaw. What happened to an actual phone conversation? Not a--"where you at, I'm here" blurb or "what's the address of that bar again?". I mean an actual, "Hello, it's me. How are you? How are things? I hope you're well. Let's catch up." Wha-wha-whaat??? Oh yeah, right, we don't want to run out of minutes--and you're sooo not on my minutes-mobile-to-mobile plan.
Gag. Or even--get this, visiting face to face!!! Sans webcam? Instant messenger?
Agh.
And still. As I type this pointless rant. I have Facebook, Twitter, and gmail open on my 3 additional tabs. And I'm BLOGGING. so, this makes me not just bitter, but the biggest hypocrite of them all. the zombie of the the 21st century's poison. the internet. cool ringtone. ugh.
but. i do have my music. and it still moves me. and it helps me reflect. and even though i'm on my BLOG, i am writing. and getting this out (not on paper, but same jist, INTERWEB), is fairly therapeutic. but not nearly as much as deleting 40-some cell numbers. that just felt great.
what also feels great? feeling anything. even if it's a little bit of hurt. loneliness. sadness. b/c you know what? it's a feeling!!!!!! let's me know i'm alive!!!! and if i can feel this, and i know i'm alive, then i know i have the capability to feel the best parts too. and they're soon to follow, i can feel it. i just have to get the fuck away from this laptop and get out in the cruel cold world and actually experience it myself in person.
ok, too much bon iver/e. smith. let's swap this shit up to the new yyy. review to follow soon. . . .
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