There was a Formal Dance

anyone who has ever gotten drunk and skimmed through their high school yearbook knows not to do it again.

i'm not sure why i did other than it was there and i was awake in a quiet house.

i don't have any hangups with high school-- my experience was sort of my own experience-- i can't say i fit into any of the major groups, but i certainly didn't feel alone or unwanted. to be honest, i could've been entirely unwanted and i don't think i would've noticed. please reference this post for further understanding.

but i guess that's exactly it.

in high school, i felt like i controlled every part of my life and destiny and judging by what was written in my yearbook, people noticed. i didn't really feel the need to be popular in a classical sense, but i also didn't understand the purpose of sitting in a classroom and doing exactly what i was told. all i knew was that there were a lot of people and that always lends well to chaos and good ol' fashioned adventure. i think i treated the entire four-year experience as half-game and half-experiment, but enjoyed every part of it right down to the time with the pig heart and the suspension.

and now, i still live by my own rules, but noticeably less. it's not that i've forgotten or given up on trying-- it's just easier to be distracted. and i can't justify any of it. i want to say, "well, with the addition of rent and bills and love, things got more serious." but i'd be lying to myself. that sort of thing has nothing to do with the sort of fun i used to have.

and that fun is still in me-- desperately trying to resurface-- proof is exactly how i went out at my last job. and that was the most alive i've felt in years.

anyway, one particular good-bye and good luck note is exactly why i wish i hadn't been drunk, reading through the damn book-- it ended with this sentence:

...let me just say whenever you laugh at a joke i've made, i feel witty x 10! i really think that you're gonna be this ultra big star... either that or end up a homeless guy in san francisco.

well, i'm in san francisco... so i suppose that's... yeah.

do you know what really gets me? it's the number of people who made a point to mention they knew i was more than just "funny" but that i was also smart, or deep, or in some manner clever.

i've got to say, i don't feel like i've spent the last seven years proving any of that to be true. i don't want to be an "ultra big star" but i don't want to be homeless either. as much as i hate to say it, high school was sober, yet i was more creative, active, and strange then than now. if i was upset, my outlet was purely comedy. now it's similar, except with the addition of a lot of whiskey.

i don't want to be that guy.

it may be a good time to fix all of this before it's too late.

sorry if this was depressing to you. but i'm sure some of you can relate. and if not, here's a picture of carmen the cat with a pbr on her head: