soeffinhappy

What a world it is.

Yesterday I went to sleep around 4 in the afternoon and didn't wake up til 3am. Sleeping and getting drunk are so similar aren't they? Just as you start to reach the deepest depths of both, things start to get fuzzy. There are gray and black spots in your memory just before sleep and complete drunkenness. It's almost as if your mind is a film projector, and at a certain point, it burned a hole in the film. The picture sizzles, spots, then goes out. That's the way it was when I fell asleep yesterday. I remember laying on the couch and flicking through the channels, hoping to find Samurai Jack but settling for the Powerpuff Girls. I remember thinking how the episode where the powerpuff girls race home so fast that they go forward in time is just a little too eerie (that episode creeps ME out it must terrify little kids). The powerpuff girls were over and Grim and Evil started, but thats where things start to haze. I remember a couple of things from it, but not many. The next thing I knew, I was downstairs in my bed, staring hatefully at a clock that refused to say anything but 3am. I couldn't have been more pissed. I've been unemployed for a little over a month and this is the last week I have to get a job in time. After this week, I'm pretty sure I won't get paid in time to pay all my bills. I slept the whole God damned day. I dreamt of Amy. I dreamt that I fought someone(a classmate conjured up by my subconscious) at my uncles house. I don't know why. What I DO know is that he tried to headlock me and I slipped to his back and put him in an L arm lock, telling him to take it easy or I'd break his arm and his shoulder. Then me, a friend named I.V.(No one calls her by her first name, everyone calls her by her initials as if she was actually named after the plant), and the mystery classmate went to the SG burlesque show. The dude flirted with Snow and she flirted back. I loaned him some money, but I can't remember for what. I DO remember that it somehow helped him with Snow. Somehow I knew that no matter how much money I gave him to help him out in courting Snow, he would always hate me for tapping him out in that fight though.
I had a pretty rotten day. My mind keeps wanting to shift into reverse and start thinking about the past instead of the future. That's not all either. Wars, and society and rapes and murders and peoples horrid ordeals and most of all, the great sadness that seems to be behind everyones eyes when I look at them, all of it builds up and I just think to myself: "What a world. Who would want to live in this world? What's the point of anything? Don't people know that we're all going down?" I think I remember having a stretch where I was feeling pretty good, but I'm now not sure if it was an illusion or not. Maybe I only THOUGHT it was a good stretch. Depression is coming, moving in like rusty gray clouds. I can feel it, and I'm trying to steel myself against it. I'm having a few people over to hang out and have some beers on friday. I'm keeping my mind occupied when I'm stranded in this house all alone. I'm making a point to go out and do things, even if they're not that important. Maybe filling my days with friends and beers and trips to Borders for new books will help me weather the storm. Maybe it won't.
Around 12:30, I felt myself about to slip into one of those really bad mental states. The kind where you pace endlessly, and smoke cigarrette after cigarrette and can't seem to figure out where the transparent black film over your thoughts came from. I sat on the couch, thinking things that I shouldn't and staring at my hands for five minutes. Then I forced myself up, put on deodorant, and went out for books and lunch. The book was the third book in The Dark Tower series. The lunch was a Taco Salad at The Pub(gaucamole, chile, sour cream, cheese, onions, chives, tortillas and various other heart clogging ingredients-is it healthy? Of course it is...it's a salad). I enjoyed the start of the book and the whole lunch. A todler(three? Four? I can never tell ages when they're that young) noticed that his mother was too busy putting on her coat and decided that he'd had enough. He bolted for freedom, already smart enough to know that the world outside of the five feet around moms legs was an interesting and wonderous place. Tiny arms and legs pumping, eyes as round as full moons, a mouth already agape in that simple childs smile-the one that comes out because the wonders of the world are too great not to smile at. Kids who run are the best. They're never satisfied, they're always questioning and they're always astounded by the simple things. This little guy was one of those, he was done with the world of diapers and rattles and playpens. Wandering the great urban desert was in his future and there was a great lot of it to be wandered. Picking him up and destroying his plan, his mother looked surprised, maybe even shocked. "I didn't even see him go." She turned to leave but the kids eyes had stayed fixed on me since he was picked up. His face said that I looked like an alien. Who was this guy? What kind of creature was it that was reading a book and sitting in front of a green, red and white monstrosity on a plate? What kind of thing was this that was all hair and hat? I felt like an ancient jewel must feel when it's uncovered. The people who find it never know exactly what it is, but they're fascinated by it. I tried to mimic his face and waved "bye-bye". Then I laughed out loud. That face grew up-from wondorous amazement to out and out jubilation, a face contorted into laughter, arms flapping like a seal, and that giggly throaty laugh. He waved "bye bye" back and they were gone.
On the ride home, I noticed things that I hadn't in a long time. The curtains of sun coming out of the clouds. All those high school kids, and middle school kids and grade school kids coming out into the freedom that follows the final bell. I love little kids, but they scare me to death. I see them running and cry out when they approach streets or sharp corners or the deadfalls of walls. I don't care whose kid it is, I just want to run over and stand ready, not stopping them just ready, just in case they keep running without looking both ways. But I can't. I'm in my car and they're on the sidewalk. But my heart still catches in my throat. To me, kids are eggs, but not the kind you get at Acme for 99 cents a dozen. They're like ancient, jeweled eggs. Fragile and wonderful, so delicate, but carrying worth beyond measure. Kids should run free and get everything they can out of the world; I hope I'm not the kind of parent who shelters their kids from the world.
What I'd like from each of you, is to take ONE slice of time, one part of your day(whether it be today or yesterday or ten years ago) and describe it to me in as much detail as you can. Tell me about the colors, the smells, the tiny details you noticed and the things that escaped your eyes. Take as long as you want, as a matter of fact the longer the better. Those storm clouds of depression haven't blown off yet, and every second spent distracted is one second closer to missing them completely. Thanks.