There may be more beautiful times, but this one is ours. ~Jean-Paul Sartre
i’m tired of being a people-pleaser. but i don’t want to be a people-displeaser. i don’t know where this leaves me. i’m tired of communicating with everyone but myself. all people want is more than i can give them. haha, to think i used to be sad that i didn’t have any real friends. i need to find a hole in the ground and occupy it for awhile. i need a life plan. everyone has a life plan these days. apparently, somewhere along the way, everyone was instructed to have a life plan. well, guess what? i don’t have one. i have minimal goals. usually whatever the flavor of that particular year/month happens to be. they might change. i have no idea how i’m going to accomplish even two of the things on my list i wrote when i was feeling ambitious. everyone seems to be on a racetrack to something, and i didn’t even get directions to the track. i haven’t bothered looking ahead for anything except some dental procedure i need to get done. which makes sense. no matter where i happen to be or what i happen to be doing, years from now, at least i won’t be smiling crooked. life is weird.
*i accidentally recycled a banana. it was not a banana that had any years left in its life, or life left in its years. it was a shadow of the banana it used to be, and FWOOP, i accidentally instilled with it with false hope by tossing it in the wrong bin.
*i ate tangy melon for breakfast. there’s tangy and then there’s rotten. supreme being, give me the wisdom to distinguish between the two. well, only time and tummy will tell.
*yesterday at standup, there was possibly the world’s easiest crowd. they laughed before punchlines were even uttered, before effort was even put forth, before you even tried to win them over, they were yours. every comic, beginners and vets alike were received with open arms and delighted hoots. they wanted to laugh soooo badly. and yet, i managed to quiet them down and make them less excited. it was like having a number 3 pencil at the SAT instead of a number 2 pencil. you think ‘what’s the big deal?’ and then you start taking the test, and you realize, you shouldn’t have been so cocksure. every bubble you try to fill in goes slightly over the boundaries. soon your test sheet is a disgusting array of failed eraser marks and black scratches. it’s ok though. you can retest. but you still feel shitty about it.
i was not successfully causing this reaction.
*yes, it’s true, i put more effort into my writing than my real life. did anyone suspect otherwise? it’s the only thing that holds me together. i’ve never been good at translating what’s in my head out loud. my head is a playground. the real world is where there are SAFETY signs about not swinging too high or sliding too fast. one tiny goal on which to work.
*today i sat next to a very very stinky man on the subway. but not stinky in the ‘haven’t bathed for a few weeks’ way. more like his mouth kept emitting an odor the likes of which hasn’t been experienced since the medieval times. but luckily for the denizens of the dark ages, they had breath fresheners back then in the form of rocks to the head.