This morning, I awoke to an argument in my hallway. My gay Trinidadian neighbor was screaming something in Patois to a chick that also lives on our floor. The only word I understood was “condom.” How did you start your day?
I’ve been sick for a few days, so blogging has not been a priority. On a list of important while ill, it finishes about 10 places below “stand once today” and “don’t cry from feeling helpless against your body’s attempted murder of you.”
I become such a baby when I’m ill. The only thing that can save me during those times are soup from my Mom or a cuddle buddy. But who wants to cuddle the infirmed?
Peoples reactions to illness are pretty standard.
"How are you?"
“A little sick.”
“well don’t give it to me!” And then they attempt to get as far away from you as humanly possible, throwing stool-gauntlets & padlocking doors as if they were in their own version of Resident Evil.
“I’m not a walking virus!” you scream. “I’m still alive!”
"Don’t give it to me!"
Well there goes my day. Here I was, planning on spending all of my time finding ways to infect you. I’ll laugh in your face Hahaha! Now how are you feeling? I was going to pretend you were Inspector Cluseau from the Pink Panther, & I was the butler-ninja you hired to try to give you disease.
Seriously though. I wasn’t going to ask you to make out with me or anything… but a hug would be nice… now that you’re hugging me, you may as well kiss me… because sometimes when you’re sick nothing feels better than seeing someone with the same thing & thinking ”well at least I didn’t get it THAT bad.” So I guess you were right to be a bit defensive.
The answer is no, I haven’t blogged for 2 days. I was feeling the kind Of sick that can only be remedied by a bowl of soup acquired & delivered by a special Cuddle buddy & /or mom.
It’s crazy to me that technology improves so quick. I am writing on a pretend notepad that is guessing what I log based on a microchip somewhere inside of it & the tip of a “stylus pen.” Soon I will think a word, & that same microchip will transcribe my thoughts. But will that improve my communication quality? Or make me lazier? I’m not sure, however I do know that my drunk blogs are not nearly as eloquent as For Whom the Bell Tolls.
then again, maybe Hemingway would have been lazy too.
-old man & the sea
He’s a pro! That’s way less than 140 characters!!
I could watch movies forever. And tonight, I did. Which is why you get sentence fragments in the place of valid arguments. I’ll unearth stuff on Tuesday.
I just yelled at my friend through the phone: “EVERYTHING’S A CHOICE!” while polishing off the last 1/3rd of a gallon of ice cream. Personal responsibility is the road to happiness. I’m like the Dali Llama of ice cream. I am at one with it. As in: it’s inside me, now.
"Oh yeah, Jaqi? Well don’t tell me what to not do!"
You’re right. A command was an aggressive start to something that should be very peaceful. Me telling you what to do in the title of a blog is like hanging an anti-abortion poster above my bed. Off-putting at best…
Although I do dream of meeting a person that has that poster in their bedroom. Clinging to the wall and/or dear life, like the cat to the tree branch…
….only it’s a fetus.
Eeesh. I apologize. Rough start. But not as rough as that fetus’ start in life… am I right???? Gross.
Back to the point….
I spent my 20s surrounded and heavily influenced by “Fight Club fans.” I’m not talking about people who think it’s a great film (which it is). I’m talking people who identify 100% with the message behind it. The ones who identify with Tyler Durden and see it as their job to burn down society as a whole. People who loved that my name was “Jaqi” because it is so close to “Jack.” The “all material possessions are evil, any sort of conformity to a standard way of life is you succumbing and becoming a sheep with the masses, shopping at IKEA is wrong, etc” types.
To them, it doesn’t matter if you’re thinking for yourself because if it appears that you agree with the masses that means you “don’t get it,” and you’re just plain wrong.
The problem with that view point is that you neglect to acknowledge: popular opinion became popular opinion because it MAKES SENSE. If someone has figured out that curtains keep light out of your apartment until you’re ready to wake up, and you sleep days/work nights, WHY WOULDN’T YOU GET F*CKING BLINDS, MAN?
The older I get, the more I am inclined to cliche. Because LIFE’s a cliche, man. (Sorry, hippie tourettes.)
My point is: last night, I moved a table next to my bed and adopted it as my night stand. Like a lost puppy, I claimed it as my own. And this morning, the world felt right. Not because I conformed, but because it’s nice to not set a water glass on a stack of empty shoe boxes.
All right, so it was bound to happen. I got home last night and didn’t get a blog up before I fell asleep. And I’ll tell you why. Around 7 years ago, on my way home from an evening with friends, I would’ve picked up a bottle of wine and trailed into oblivion alongside that last drop.
Now, years later, instead of popping a bottle, I came home and got drunk on a movie that Netflix is trying to pass off as a Halloween favorite.
1996. Michael J Fox. Ugh.
I think the worst thing a scary movie can do is start by showing who the bad guy is. And that’s how it starts. This is the weirdest terrible movie I’ve ever seen. I couldn’t stop it. Like watching a train wreck, or my parents having sex.
I won’t spoil it for you though, cuz it does it for me.
The older I get, the more I feel like things are about age. And it has less to do with a number and more to do with my slowly sagging earlobes. I feel like they droop a little more every day. Just like my eyeballs. My pupils just aren’t as perky as they used to be.
I really don’t mind age, since it’s one more year away from 10 long islands, puking at the bar & falling asleep on some dude’s dick. (That last part is an exaggeration, kind of.)
Anyway, I got older last month. I do it a lot. Almost every day. It’s a hobby. (I’m pretty good at it.)
I remember a time when I would not want to leave the bar for sake of feelings. Everyone else’s. “If I leave, people will think I don’t like them, and I like everybody.” Seriously. I liked EVERYBODY. Even if they didn’t deserve it. Someone could have shot my best friend, and I’d take the side of the gunman, saying “He’s just going through a really tough time right now. His dog just died. That’s man’s best friend. As a SPECIES. My friend was just MY friend.”
But yes, I used to stay to make everyone else happy. I think there’s a certain point when you have to forego staying until the end of the night, for the sake of your work ethic… for the sake of your sanity… and then there are nights like tonight where you just allow yourself to hang cuz it’s a good time.
It feels different from before because there’s a 10 year gap that I remember half of, but is it really different from before? Maybe I remember wrong. And that’s what I got to do tonight, so HOORAY!
(Woops, sorry, sentimentality seeped in there. Shit. FART NOISES. Haha. Get it? I said shit and followed up with farts? Isn’t that FUNNY? Now I’m going to publish before I start crying to the heavens “WHY DID I HAVE TO EXPOSE MY SOUL?!?!?!?!?)
Thanks guys. Good night!