2004-04-03 - 10:35 p.m.

It's all about the right combination of smokes, caffiene, and recreational beer. That triumverate can make a pointless day off excellent.

I assembled an organizer thingie from Target for the Roommate and I did a damn good job and yes I am jealous that it's not mine. It actually reminds me of one of my hazy sesame street memories, watching carpenters put together a similar but much larger object. I'm glad for her that she was able to slay her closet demon and turn it into a positive, and I'm proud to have played my small but brave part in her magnificent quest.

I got the bug after that but was kinda out of doing energy, with way too much starting energy, so now I have a started project I won't finish tonight, but it's a good started project 'cause I'm not going to allow the kind of mess I'm currently knee deep in to exist in that state for very long.

Oh, thwarting. It feels so good to thwart. Doesn't it?

It feels so good to get things done, right? And it feels so bad to sit around and get nothing done, right? You know--creepy guilt and lethargy?

So why do I let myself sit around and get nothing done sometimes?

'Cause that feels good too, sometimes. Like how when my hands are cold and I get home and I run them under hot water and they swell up and turn even redder and they hurt but they feel good too.

Like how sweets were the top and smallest triangle in the old food pyramid. Too much lethargy is bad for you, but no lethargy ever is also bad too.

Small doses.

I miss the summer in high school when I listened to joed out by Barbara Manning over and over and over and dreamed of a world permanently ruled by a kids in the hall fiveumberate, and today I tried on all of the pants I've been holding onto in case I get a job where I can't wear jeans, and I modeled for the near comatose Roommate a navy pair of Dockers that were pleated and I think had tapered leg openings, and I wore 'em in high school, and now they're going in the trash at last, 'cause if I do get a job where I can't wear jeans, I'm not wearing those either, but they did still fit.

Oh high school. I remember the past so fondly that I could almost be tricked into going back. What a different world.

Maybe that's one of the problems. Of course it is. I knew the whole thing was fucked up, and not from some angsty teen perspective, trust me, just that it was some almost suburban hellhole I was trapped in so I hung out with the losers 'cause that was the best option, but I knew that in college the idiots would mostly be sifted out and those that weren't would be marginalized, and I guess I kind of figured that the same thing would happen after college.

Of course the opposite happened, and while I'm okay with this 'cause that's the way it is and I'll do what I can to make it better, I find myself getting annoyed at everyone and I don't want to be that guy.

But when I'm home, and with my music, or just doing stuff where nobody is my boss and I'm nobody's boss, and I'm hanging out with myself, I guess it's okay.

Whenever I can take things seriously enough that I can appreciate putting myself in situations where the logical conclusion is subtile hillarity, everything seems to be okay.