Stuff

The company shindig is tonight. The giant post-college Frat party. I sort of don’t want to go. But what else am I going to do? And at the very least it’ll bring good gossip on Monday.

Hickey Boy stopped by earlier to ask me what people in Texas think of Bush. I’ve lived in Ohio for six years big boy, you probably know as well as I do. He also asked if I wrote the copy on something he saw on the art director’s desk. When I told him I did, he acted as if heaven’s gates had opened. And that reaction is a compliment, how? If I wasn’t good I wouldn’t be in this position, jackass.

Here is a guy I wasted the better part of 2000 crushing after, and really, he’s just a complete idiot. A total and complete idiot, and why I never noticed this earlier, I do not know.

Sometimes I think I have blinders on. I think about people the way I want to think about them. I inflict untrue characteristics on them because I want them to be what I want them to be.

Yet I can’t figure out who I am or why I am the way I am. Ugh, it’s all so tritely lame.

And y’all, I just noticed Cool Guy has his tongue pierced. Big fan. Big, big fan.

There are so many cuties here, it’s disgusting really. Like we all just walked right out of the magazine, set up shop and got to work. Every day is like a new soap opera with couples trading places and swapping beds quicker than you can say incest.

And have there been many post-college crushes that haven’t worked here? Maybe two. But I don’t care. I’m here every day of the week. I see these folks out everywhere I go. We’re all young, we’re all hot, we all know no one else. Who else are we supposed to hook up with?

Wow, that was off-topic. And so stupid.

But my life is not stupid. Sometimes it’s amazing to me, and I need to remember those moments. I need to remember all the things I’ve done. How lucky I am to be in this place.

It’s so easy to get sucked in to the boring parts of your life, the parts you wish you could change. It goes back to me making things the way I want them to be, not the way they really are. Why I think it’s easier to be dissatisfied, I don’t know. Perhaps because it makes me feel deeper.

I’m so deep.

One of T’s younger sisters, JM, started college this fall. I’ve never known anyone to have a life as charmed as this beautiful girl’s. She’s brilliant, gorgeous, sweet, funny and loveable. She graduated from an all girls Catholic school with a four point. She spent a semester (in high school!) studying in France, every sorority at MSU wanted her. I was lamenting to T how wonderful JM’s life is, how amazing the rest of it’s going to be, and she just looked at me like I was bloody insane. Then she proceeded to list off all the things I’ve done, all the things I do.

After bringing up horrid elementary memories for her with yesterday’s entry she still spun it to make me feel better.

I never understood why you were so unsatisfied with things, socially. Was it because of lingering thoughts of What Might Have Been? Because that's silly. Evaluate those years - evaluate the friendships you have, from then, and in your life now.

How many of the girls that you envied got to make up games like Wagon Train, or go to a great college that wasn't in Texas, be a great writer for a paper, hold down several of your dream jobs, [intern] in DC? How many have great, fulfilling friendships the way that you do now? How many are as unconditionally loved the way you are?

And then I feel all petty and stupid. And insipid. I keep coming back to insipid.

It’s Friday. Forgive me.

La coeur a ses raisons que la raison ne connait point – Pascal