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It comes; it comes; it comes; it goes...
Apr. 24th, 2010 11:42 pmReading lyrics to this new CD I got--
I know no one buys CDs anymore. I'm one of the last holdouts, I guess. I really don't know why. I had a Walkman as a kid, and it was all right. CD player after that, too-- still hanging around my closet somewhere, I'm sure. Maybe it's a tactile thing-- holding the music in my hands after exchanging money for it, showing it to others and having it rattle in the door of my car for months on end. You don't have that with mobile music storage. Of course, they said the same thing with records and then cassettes came out and CDs themselves, so what do I expect anyway? Get with the damn times.
Maybe I just have trouble letting go. Already growing old in some respects. The bartender yesterday said I looked too young to have been living in this town for almost a decade. "I mean, what are you, 29?" Actually, 26, thanks. Oh, and this after my friend (younger than me by a few months) said he was jealous I still got carded all the time. It's what I get for bragging, I guess. Then again, I don't go on 36-hour binges like he does. No reason to these days.
I wonder when it's going to get easier even though it really never does. Some part of me is always wondering when the work won't be so hard, when I'll wake up and just be happy. Those are silly questions if you really look at them. When has life ever been easy? You try to compare it to when you were young, but it was all the same. We're all a slip and fall away from a concussion or a few weeks away from starvation and only a sliver away from death by a myriad of other means, a number that is growing by the minute considering the technology we create to make things simpler. And what of happiness? There are uncountable joys in this world, and yet, certain days are still bleak no matter how much window dressing you try to slap on them.
But it wouldn't be as interesting if it were easy. You get bored and stagnate. You fall asleep to the same worries after groundhoging your day, same day you've lived for the past few years or maybe even longer. You want your life to be one way, simple, pure, untainted by the terrible senses of responsibility and lack of control, but even if you get what you want, you're never really happy with it. The truth always seems to be this: anything worth having is worth being a little uncomfortable for. If you really want it.
Even so, I have to recognize that I can't always get what I want, especially when it comes to other people. You can't make them want what you want them to want. Too many factors shoe-horned into submission. One of these days, the whole thing will explode. There are no equations for this loss, no predictable paths showing just where I went wrong or neon arrows urging me to run away at the exact moment it would be best. No, this is just what it is-- me looking back and being unable to tell myself when the wolf was at the door. The inevitable that's been nipping at my heels for years. I could beat myself up for wanting all the things I wanted and trying so hard to get them and still failing, but I am not responsible for the second half of love-- the other silhouette I held myself to. It doesn't make the day-to-day uncertainty any better. It doesn't make him listen. It doesn't force me to understand how I could have fixed things or even if they weren't worth making the effort for in the first place. It doesn't hold me in it's arms and tell me it will be okay.
It just is, somehow. It just is.
( Oh right. I was talking lyrics. )
I know no one buys CDs anymore. I'm one of the last holdouts, I guess. I really don't know why. I had a Walkman as a kid, and it was all right. CD player after that, too-- still hanging around my closet somewhere, I'm sure. Maybe it's a tactile thing-- holding the music in my hands after exchanging money for it, showing it to others and having it rattle in the door of my car for months on end. You don't have that with mobile music storage. Of course, they said the same thing with records and then cassettes came out and CDs themselves, so what do I expect anyway? Get with the damn times.
Maybe I just have trouble letting go. Already growing old in some respects. The bartender yesterday said I looked too young to have been living in this town for almost a decade. "I mean, what are you, 29?" Actually, 26, thanks. Oh, and this after my friend (younger than me by a few months) said he was jealous I still got carded all the time. It's what I get for bragging, I guess. Then again, I don't go on 36-hour binges like he does. No reason to these days.
I wonder when it's going to get easier even though it really never does. Some part of me is always wondering when the work won't be so hard, when I'll wake up and just be happy. Those are silly questions if you really look at them. When has life ever been easy? You try to compare it to when you were young, but it was all the same. We're all a slip and fall away from a concussion or a few weeks away from starvation and only a sliver away from death by a myriad of other means, a number that is growing by the minute considering the technology we create to make things simpler. And what of happiness? There are uncountable joys in this world, and yet, certain days are still bleak no matter how much window dressing you try to slap on them.
But it wouldn't be as interesting if it were easy. You get bored and stagnate. You fall asleep to the same worries after groundhoging your day, same day you've lived for the past few years or maybe even longer. You want your life to be one way, simple, pure, untainted by the terrible senses of responsibility and lack of control, but even if you get what you want, you're never really happy with it. The truth always seems to be this: anything worth having is worth being a little uncomfortable for. If you really want it.
Even so, I have to recognize that I can't always get what I want, especially when it comes to other people. You can't make them want what you want them to want. Too many factors shoe-horned into submission. One of these days, the whole thing will explode. There are no equations for this loss, no predictable paths showing just where I went wrong or neon arrows urging me to run away at the exact moment it would be best. No, this is just what it is-- me looking back and being unable to tell myself when the wolf was at the door. The inevitable that's been nipping at my heels for years. I could beat myself up for wanting all the things I wanted and trying so hard to get them and still failing, but I am not responsible for the second half of love-- the other silhouette I held myself to. It doesn't make the day-to-day uncertainty any better. It doesn't make him listen. It doesn't force me to understand how I could have fixed things or even if they weren't worth making the effort for in the first place. It doesn't hold me in it's arms and tell me it will be okay.
It just is, somehow. It just is.
( Oh right. I was talking lyrics. )
