Nothing Like What's Next To Me

four years of college and i don't know what i want to do. i don't know. i'd pump cesspools if it made me happy, but i don't think jobs can make anyone happy. not completely anyway, momentarily more likely. so i'm stuck, sort of like a stick in the mud, but, i'm not unhappy - maybe a bit sad, but i always find it has little to do with me and everything to do with the world around me.

watch the news.

read the paper.

listen to the radio.

absorb it all, reconsider.

and so i make graffiti on the train because creativity makes me happy.

i like to read and write and watch other people,

pay me for it?

i like to go fishing. not that i'm "serious" about it. i don't go out there with the right bait, rod, or casting technique, but there's something about feeling that life on the other line. knowing that even when you can't see it life is out there - alive! just waiting to feast and be caught.

and i'm a student, but nothing like the one sitting by me on the train. the difference is she has focus and a diet cherry coke. all i have is heart and a Natural Ice. i'm riding this train, not with the intention of moving forward, but with the intention of suspension. i'm dying for distractions from my text. she's reading "Art in Theory 1900-2000". and i find it amazing how they cover 10o years of art in 500 pages. at the very least us accountants know we're full of shit, an invention. art however is not an invention, it's a fruit of being and how i die to eat more than 500 pages.

without a dream there's not much to follow.

i'm sure it's very informative, but heck that's what other things are for. a book describing art almost feels like a disgrace to art. other peoples descriptions and opinions take away from your own.

maybe i'm drunk, no

i am.

Actions & Reactions

i was drinking a beer at 1045am. if you're seen drinking before noon you get a look, apparently if it's before 11am you get a sneer. just a couple feet away gawking like i was some sort of second class citizen, an untouchable, was this woman. middle aged, and judging me. and what i have nothing to offer because i'm a merry, jobless, alcoholic? she doesn't know me - she can "suck it". and normally i wouldn't judge but i felt entitlement after the looks she gave me. and thing is she was wearing a vest. and there is only one thing worse than a vest: a vest with a hood. i decide i hate this woman and believe she's bitter.

just another drag-you-down middle aged bitch.
i pity the fool.

and the next day i'm in the park, cause its 50 degrees and i have an hour to kill before class. i'm drinking a beer and this little boy is riding his scooter back and fourth as his nanny eats lunch. i smile at him because he's young, and cute, and seemingly fearless. after we exchange some friendly smiles, an understanding, he comes swiftly towards me down the blacktop, and attempts a bunny hop. he fails, falls off the scooter, hits the ground and looks up at me shamefully. i smile back proudly. he had been trying to impress me.

yet again the next week i'm at Duane Reade picking up a 24oz bud-light and the black lady behind me in line says "bud-liiiiiiiight" (emphasis on light), this is by far the classiest person that has spoken to me in weeks. i'm flattered. i look bashfully back and reply that it has 1/3 the calories. she says something about taste and my age and we laugh. she educates me and i listen.

i long to tell her what a bitch the lady in the vest was to me - that they shared nothing in common.

Keep On

i was walking down the street getting as close to a skip as i'll allow myself. i was singing aloud with my headphones on like i'd quit my day job. an old man with a cane turned the corner at a much slower pace than he probably desired, and my happiness was radiating. he recognized the smile and rather than question me he just briskly stated as we crossed paths "you're happy". my response went unverbalized but takes one to know one.

now, this was a far cry from the days where i'd get to the city, get off the train and immediately check the time table to see that first train i could take back home. the same days where i'd wind up home at the train station and have to sleep it off in my car for a couple hours. these were the furthest things from my mind. the dark ages. i'd usually wake up sober wondering where i went wrong. and for a while i was skeptical that i'd never be as happy as i had been in the past. and i don't know how but i've finally learned that hurt is an everyday thing - but bundled with hope and respect, and maybe some courage, life is bearable all the time, and enjoyable almost as much. you can have everything and nothing all at the same time, it's the definitions that make the decisions.

and old friend used to tell me that being selfish is a good thing. in my angst i believed it to be the only thing, now i see otherwise. in being selfless i've found pounds of a better type of selfishness. it's great giving back to people and it in fact feels so good that you being to grow accustomed to the feeling, wanting to recreate it at any opportunity. it's turned into a semi-selfish motive for being selfless.

there's just one last thing i'd like to address: people have told you something along the lines of all things that are worth it in life must be attained through hard work. what a sham - i'd put money on the idea that the pioneer of this statement wasn't a very happy individual. as i've grown painstakingly slow over the past couple of years i'm beginning to truly believe that the best things come the easiest.

A Day In The Life

Some Nothing Because Currently That's All I Have To Write About:

::just signed up for the FDNY test being given in January of 2011. the recruiter told me a year goes by quick. and if there's something i've learned in my 7th semester at college it's that if you can't beat them join them - civil service is the way to go, pension and everything.

::my professor ended class 10 minutes early and the girl next me to said, almost to herself ,"thank you". funny the things some people are thankful for. i guess she didn't mean it in too heavy a way though.

::I spoke with Gap's customer service consultant, Shelly, a real nice lady btw and she has agreed to help me locate my discontinued beanie. My friend Erin says (and i do realize that this seems to be a reoccurring theme here, my good ol' pal Erin disgracing my dear beanie) that my beanie is a crutch. Well i'll be damned. It seemed to me the worst insult. I mean, what was my beanie to make of all this. After a while though i reconsidered and realized my beanie is in no way crutch. But instead my being in college is?

Because: i basically do what i want and take into account no harm because i am a so called College student. but i am in fact a pathetic soul seeking fuck who can't decide what I want, need, care for, respect, love, admire, desire, despise, idolize, etc.

And The Beat Goes On.

Outlets & Vices

i've accumulated too many, thanks blogger!

1. anxiety - nail biting.
2. anger - punching things, never people.
3. pain/love - blogging.
4. bordem/no direction/being a rolling stone - beer and pot.
5. excitement - single ladies dance.

You're Ageless, Timeless, Lace And Fineness

over the summer i went ahead and saw Mama Mia - the film adaptation, it was a wonderful movie going experience. two girls a row ahead of me knew all the songs and dances, so they performed along with the cast. i really appreciated it because it brought the movie to life. the tall boy also brought the movie to life, but at a cost. my bladder is comparable in size to a walnut so i had to do the 100m dash right to the bathroom halfway through. and about twenty minutes later i had to go again - but i sure as hell wasn't gonna miss the mystery of the bastard child get solved so i made the difficult decision to sit it out and suffer to the end.

as soon as the movie ended i started power walking (a skill i perfected in 11th grade gym class, thanks mrs.perry) to the bathroom. on the way i passed the two girls and let them know they rocked. when i finally reached the bathroom i was relieved to know i beat the movie-just-let-out bathroom rush and i picked a middle stall (i'm a firm believer that the first stall is in fact the dirtiest) sat down and peed. outside my stall i could hear the first few signs of a crowd, but what i hadn't realized was that in my haste to pee i hadn't locked the stall. i've gotten into a terrible habit of using the bathroom with the door open at my house, and at the houses of friends, which i guess got me too comfortable, and with my carelessness led to the exhibition of that habit in a very public restroom.

so as i'm on the toilet, pants down, squatting and still a nice stream of pee being banished from the body, in other words as vulnerable as one can be, a woman in her mid forties, fresh off a movie musical designed with her in mind and with the prospect of love keeping her high, swung the stall door open, shrieked, apologized, stepped back and let the door swing back shut. i made my grand, shameless exit about 5 seconds later, looked at her, laughed and placed the blame on myself.

i was about to make a clean escape - my back to the lady, when she yelled from the space in front of the stall "wait, is the lock broken?". at this point i had a small audience, i was a little tipsy (or so i'd like to think), and i had no reason to lie so i turned my head, smirked, and said "no i live on the edge like that". her face was priceless - curiosity mixed with confusion. i didn't wanna leave her hanging, but i knew i didn't have time for what i really wanted to do - liberate her! like a race horse when the gates open. i wanted to tell her she too could pee with the door open, and if she wanted she could drink beer in the theater with no regard for the rules. she could throw it all out the window. she could even leave the kids with her mom and take a vacation, or tell off Jim from work. but i didn't because these are things she payed her therapist for.