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As of late my days, and subsequently my months and years, have not been defining. Defined. I do things and get a result. So is life and the universe. I think I live pretty rationally and try to apply that sensibility to life. I do. I am getting tired of such an overwhelming feeling of an inevitable mundane existence. I think about being younger, maybe ten years ago. I was into poetry and mind altering substances. I was much more creative and impulsive. I sought out irrationality and hoped that by the time I was my current age that I would be leading a life that came from my irrational creativeness. Well that is not where my life is. I think the 14 year old me would be disappointed. The 24 year old me is disappointed. Sure, I'm doing lots of cool things and experiencing things I never thought I would, but I'm not experiencing the things I thought I would. I still want to experience those things. Somehow in heel I haven't really left the country and only recently got a passport. I feel that I am failing the me inside of me. I need to change. I have said that a lot. And I am stuck in the cycle of “I will after I've...”. I already have another one of those planned. And it kills me inside. I feel I should have done and be doing more than I have and am. I want irrationality. Reading the stuff I wrote when I was in my early teens is wild because my brain was totally wild. It's total crap for prose but it's such an adventure. The writing was the manifestation of what I wanted to do in the future. Somewhere along the line I lost my romanticism. I lost the ability to be spontaneous and embrace the moment. I have become a low-level worrier. Not about big things, but about minute bullshit that in the long run doesn't matter. I find myself reading less literature per say and more books based on facts and scientific inquiry. I surely enjoy and take a lot away from these books. But the world of fiction is one in which there is so much to get lost in and I seem to just not be able to get lost anymore. As of late I know where I am going, which makes life boring. I have to figure out how to make life more beautiful, more random.
It's funny, I have a phone that I check. No one calls me. Who would? I don't know. It is hard for me to recall what it was like for someone to call me and want to hang out. Used to be the center of a group of friends. Mostly because my house was where we played music. Regardless, I always had people calling me to do something. There was always folks stopping by at random. I was quite popular. It's so strange to think of those days when now I can't even think of anyone to call to hang out with. What it comes down to is that I haven't been in one place for long enough to establish any sort of consistent relationships. It's amazing that I have the ones that I do. I have friends, but none that live even within driving distance. I suppose I am a loner (Dotty, a rebel). I guess. I like having friends though. I just don't know many people like me. Or many people. In all honesty I may live in the wrong place. That said I am still blaming myself for a lack of social interaction. I'm reading Bukowski again. At this point in my life I can relate to him even less so than I could when I was 16. I still enjoy every word. The one thing I can relate to is the title to a book of poetry that he wrote and which I have read, You Get So Alone at Times it Just Makes Sense. I think that's what I've come to. I've gotten comfortable with being alone and am losing something with that. I want to be able to take personal time because I have been around people too much. For most people that sounds pretty crazy I imagine. Sure soon enough I will want to take a break from people, but those people I won't even like that much. I want to be able to take a break from people that I like. Isn't that a weird concept? Many great people have taken great inspiration from being alone and sumersing themselves to solitude. I have just made a way of life out of it. I think about traveling the world and even the state in which I live. One of the main reasons I don't is because I don't want to do it alone. I'm tired of sharing my thoughts with myself. I'm not good at answering and that can lea to the perpetuation of bogus and stupid thoughts getting stuck in my head. I am disconnected.
I should start playing my drums again. I haven't for years. That's crazy. It makes me terribly sad. The instrument that I excel at and I never play. How stupid. My parents tell me that one thing they wish for me is that I be able to play music with a good group of musicians. I do too. Guitar is ok. Doesn't inspire much and I'll never be very good. The drums I know I can get better at. There has to be something I can get better at.
There is a girl who lives here. I have her number. She told me that she wanted to start being friends. I was really blown over by that. She's really great. I told her when I got back into town I would call her. I haven't. As usual I'm waiting until the perfect moment. Which as far as I can tell will be never. I think about calling her everyday. I usually come up with something to the effect of “it's too late”. Too late for what? I don't know. It's not too late nor will it be. I have to start do-ing.
I will start by buying a new snare drum and looking at plane tickets to India or Spain for the fall. I will life this life dammit. I hope it fucking kills me.