It's been monsooning here a lot lately; last week I didn't go a day without driving home in downpour with enormous beams of explosion-white light blasting away above me. In the day time everything seems bright and sunny, but come evening the sky sets on fire. Cut to me and josh pulled off to the side of the road, watching the pitch black sky all around us while rain drops pelt away at our skulls, me trying my damnedest to catch the megazeus lightning bolts on camera. Failing quite expertly.
There's something exciting about being unsettled; about being unsure what the weather holds in store. About being in an experience so foreign from regular life that all expectations go out the window. To that end I think I'd be thrilled of a zombie apocolypse, or a sudden takeover by flying maneating unicorns, or a world where the gravity suddenly reversed. I mean, once you get over the possible dying parts (or whatever) you get to live in an unexplored scary world and start over. You get to put on fresh skin.
When I'm laying alone in my bed, frying hot, contemplating whether running the air conditioner will do more harm than good, all I can think is "bleh, done this before, boring." I know it'll be moderately uncomfortable and that I'll probably wake up in sweat, or I'll shrug off my comforter to wake up to nightmares, or that the next morning I'll wake up groggy and grumpy and far too warm. But when a lightning storm starts up and the air cracks with hot fire, there's no telling what is in store. The world comes alive again.
Sometimes you just gotta dodge the lightning explosions to stay alive in it.
Or man eating unicorns.
Cut to me drinking whiskey out of a glass, served by two pretty girls who are going to brazil soon. Then to a walk I don't remember. Then to most of the night and morning that I do remember; making a bunch of mistakes that I can't take back. Then to me walking to my car where everything starts to feel painful, and all the nights afterward where it is hard to sleep, and every day after things come to light that I feel like I've played street hockey with my favorite fragile vase as the puck. There's no excitement in this change, things are too far out to feel within comfortable range, sometimes that exciting lightning goes straight to your heart and you die.
That's sorta what happened.
Cut to me sitting around a table at my yoga instructors house. She welcomed me and some fellow students over for class, then dinner following, and wine and discussion for as long as we liked. She's so open and selfless, always finding joy in making sure that everyone else is happy, hugging those big hugs. The big hugs that I give because it's so odd and special to connect with people. And it feels warm without being mean or sarcastic, people laugh without needing to be negative, everyone is happy for everyone and okay talking about the parts of our life that we wish were better.
Cut to me feeling important and wanted without needing to be a shock comic.
Cut to me not really understanding why it's so hard to let go of the mean, callous, dangerous, witty, clever, hilarious, reckless half of myself that some people love and some people detest. The part of me that was born out of the fire of everyone else's hate growing up, the same part of me that I think most hilarious people have. Humor is something that people use to get out of bad times, but it's too easy to let it get out of control sometimes. Too easy to let go of the soft squishy parts of myself and coast on the violent shell that's impervious to damage.
So yeah.
There were also some other things that happened lately:
Getting hailed and rained on after I spent the day being sad at waterworld by myself, only to find the company of sean gabe and tyler which turned a complete shit day into an awesome one. Only to come home to two roommates too messed up to interact with me, which made it shitty again. Who then apologized, which made it awesome.
Watching Harry Potter with everybody and crying so hard that my contact fell out mid-movie.
World of Warcraft Trading Card Game, with Scott and home, and JP/Josh at Gypsy House. In Gypsy House's restroom (which reeked of shit and chai) they had a sign on the wall telling you not to flush your dreams or your tampons down the toilet. Or your ex boyfriends.
Josh and Thomas are no longer Josh and Thomas. I know it sucks, but for a long time that relationship took a lot out of all three of us; I'm personally happy that everyone can back out and start being who they were before the dramabombs dropped all over baghdad.
Erik, Andrew, and Amanda all played Magic with me again. Exponential happiness.
The end of this blog.
Comments (4)
I have really missed you lately, Mr. Vance... No more Josh & Thomas... interesting... How is Josh with that?
@apaintingbychagall - he's doing fine; he's been thinking about it for months and months and thomas finally acted crazy enough to warrant a breakup.
@GatoRoboto - I love it when crazy goes a step too far!!!!
When did I pour you a glass of whiskey? I was probably getting ready to go to Brazil when they were... and I am in Brazil now!