I find that sleep deprivation does wonders for creativity. With less than two hours of rest, my mind has been racing at near-warp speeds all day, ideas dancing around in complicated patterns, choreographed by my overworked brain. I also find that a severe lack of sleep makes me much more irritable than I care for. Despite the complete absence of energy in my body, I still feel like I can take on anything and everyone. I'm full of piss and vinegar today (no douche jokes, please), a cobra lying patiently in wait to strike at the throat of the first motherfucker that sets me off.
Alas, this didn't happen. Work was fairly uneventful, save for me nodding off at the front counter a couple of times.
Last night, after more drinks than I had bothered to count, I sat on a stool near the pool tables, slowly whittling away at the enormous pitcher of ice water that Dave had been gracious enough to procure for me. The evening had been a pleasant one, full of singing and drinking and generally having a good time amongst friends, but there was a weird moment where I suddenly felt like I was on the outside looking in, as though I was observing instead of participating. In that instant, a room full of friends became a cluster of strangers, and I briefly found myself wondering what the fuck I was doing in a place where I so clearly did not belong.
These thoughts passed, aided by an embrace and a heartfelt expression of gratitude from Dave, who credited me with being the most genuine and supportive person that he knows. I don't know that I necessarily agree with that, but the sentiment was certainly appreciated. Moving on to my second pitcher of ice water, I reasoned that my momentary feeling of disconnection could most likely be attributed to the fact that I'll soon be leaving, and was probably just a taste of things to come.
But perhaps that's not the case. Perhaps we don't really know people as well as we think that we do. I think we all have things in or lives that we can't bring ourselves to deal with, so we sweep them under the rug and pretend that they don't exist. With the years of history in that room last night, it was easy to see how many people were hiding something. So many unspoken secrets packed into such a small group of people - what would happen if we could all just be completely honest with each other? If everyone could tell each other exactly what they think and how they feel, how much would it change?
It's that fear of change that keeps us at bay. We meet people, make connections. We fall into a routine, grow comfortable, complacent. But all the while, we're afraid. We keep our guard up at all times, never letting someone get too close, lest they have an opportunity to hurt us. But oftentimes, we're so consumed with protecting ourselves and trying to ensure that we never have to feel pain, that we forget how to feel anything at all. We lose ourselves, and before you know it, even we have forgotten who we used to be.
We should all accept a basic fact about life. Somewhere, sometime, we're going to get hurt. We'll let someone get close to us, and they will seriously and catastrophically fuck our shit up. It happens to everyone, and no matter how hard you try to shield yourself from it, it will eventually happen to you too. No one likes getting hurt, but getting hurt, in an of itself, is not nearly as important as how you choose to deal with it. When you've been emotionally and mentally destroyed by another human being, and you can somehow manage to put the pieces back together and keep on going, it serves only to show you just how strong you really are.
Life is short, people. Far too fucking short. We shouldn't waste it by spending so much time living in fear, lying to ourselves and everyone around us by denying our true selves and trying so desperately to be something that we're not. We shouldn't shy away from making potentially life-altering decisions because we're concerned about how others might perceive our choices. We shouldn't rail against our natural instincts because we're afraid of what consequences might be in store for us.
We are who we are. Accept it, embrace it, and live with it.
Alas, this didn't happen. Work was fairly uneventful, save for me nodding off at the front counter a couple of times.
Last night, after more drinks than I had bothered to count, I sat on a stool near the pool tables, slowly whittling away at the enormous pitcher of ice water that Dave had been gracious enough to procure for me. The evening had been a pleasant one, full of singing and drinking and generally having a good time amongst friends, but there was a weird moment where I suddenly felt like I was on the outside looking in, as though I was observing instead of participating. In that instant, a room full of friends became a cluster of strangers, and I briefly found myself wondering what the fuck I was doing in a place where I so clearly did not belong.
These thoughts passed, aided by an embrace and a heartfelt expression of gratitude from Dave, who credited me with being the most genuine and supportive person that he knows. I don't know that I necessarily agree with that, but the sentiment was certainly appreciated. Moving on to my second pitcher of ice water, I reasoned that my momentary feeling of disconnection could most likely be attributed to the fact that I'll soon be leaving, and was probably just a taste of things to come.
But perhaps that's not the case. Perhaps we don't really know people as well as we think that we do. I think we all have things in or lives that we can't bring ourselves to deal with, so we sweep them under the rug and pretend that they don't exist. With the years of history in that room last night, it was easy to see how many people were hiding something. So many unspoken secrets packed into such a small group of people - what would happen if we could all just be completely honest with each other? If everyone could tell each other exactly what they think and how they feel, how much would it change?
It's that fear of change that keeps us at bay. We meet people, make connections. We fall into a routine, grow comfortable, complacent. But all the while, we're afraid. We keep our guard up at all times, never letting someone get too close, lest they have an opportunity to hurt us. But oftentimes, we're so consumed with protecting ourselves and trying to ensure that we never have to feel pain, that we forget how to feel anything at all. We lose ourselves, and before you know it, even we have forgotten who we used to be.
We should all accept a basic fact about life. Somewhere, sometime, we're going to get hurt. We'll let someone get close to us, and they will seriously and catastrophically fuck our shit up. It happens to everyone, and no matter how hard you try to shield yourself from it, it will eventually happen to you too. No one likes getting hurt, but getting hurt, in an of itself, is not nearly as important as how you choose to deal with it. When you've been emotionally and mentally destroyed by another human being, and you can somehow manage to put the pieces back together and keep on going, it serves only to show you just how strong you really are.
Life is short, people. Far too fucking short. We shouldn't waste it by spending so much time living in fear, lying to ourselves and everyone around us by denying our true selves and trying so desperately to be something that we're not. We shouldn't shy away from making potentially life-altering decisions because we're concerned about how others might perceive our choices. We shouldn't rail against our natural instincts because we're afraid of what consequences might be in store for us.
We are who we are. Accept it, embrace it, and live with it.
reid:
woohoooo! 