Little Options, Low Selfesteem

So I got back from gaming, a pretty disheartening experience, to find my house in disoray and disaster once again. Now matter what fantasy world I submerce myself in I always end up surfacing in the fruit of my appathy. I appear wet and rasping for breath, as the cold air rushes to my lungs. Half freezing them, half reviving them, but never satisfying them. No, my tar blackend lungs cry out with shame at the site of my own filth, my trail laziness. Hmm, I guess this is what they call a cycle but it doesn't feel like a circle at all. It feels like a dead end, I am cornered by my own inactions and my inactions yet to come. I am too familiar with my paterns to deny what I am. I am a slacker. But I don't want to be one. I know I have work to do, and every second that I don't do it; the pile gets bigger and bigger. What's stoping me then? Sad thoughts from a happy sorce. Is self-examination and awarness a state of freedom, or just the recognization of the trap we creat? Yeah, I am so up lifting, and hears why.

On of my favorite movies was on tv when I got home, The New Guy, its a tale about a geek (or as the movie calls them a blip) who is fed up with being picked on. He gets himself expelled from his old school, goes to a prison to get training on "Going from bitch to bull", and finaly finds exceptance as a tough guy in his new school. But this doesn't sit well with the concious of our hero...he has become one of those who used to make his life hell. When he became the bull he couldn't control the bully, wow that's a streach. Any way, damn fine movie, lot of big name people in it, big name songs, and big titties. Lots of focus on the lead actress in a hankerchief for a t-shirt(nice). Now I ain't saying that sexual appeal doesn't have a place, hell the movie sold out in everyother concivable way. A teenager movie to beat them all. Though the question is, why the hell do I like it?

I like it becasue I don't have to think. Its repetes every highschool movie ever made, be an individual, stand up for the little guy, stand up to the bully, you will be excepted if you be yourself. Nice, a real feel good movie. This may surprise you but I was a really big geek in high school, and I even woried about what others thought of me. (I could go further, but I think my angsty writer muse may be drying up.) So these types of movies are refreshing...while there is still the movie. The problem with late night movies is they are on late at night, this means pleanty of comercials. And they are all soo chearful. Advertisments for acne creams, electric chairs, exercise machines with perfectly toned people flexing, diet supplmets with folks swearing up and down that this was the only product that worked for them. I am so thankful I have a full head of hair otherwise those 'hair restoration clinic' comecials would really get to me. And just when it is too much to bare and your about to must from a throbing head ache do to depresion, self judgment, and eye strain they have advertisments for pain relievers, thanks for rubbing it in...jerks!

So the original reason to watch the movie is now the one thing sustaining me. I want to be happy, I want the movie to make me feel happy and it will in between comercial breaks. So I patiently wait, feeling more depressed by the thirty second block designed to tell me how I am inadiquit and how I can fix myself, just to get to the movie so I feel better. One must have the grey clouds to appreciate the ray of golden light. Oh wait there was a comecrial on flood insurence too, chock up another to disheartend thoughts. So I feel worse then ever, though a bit better because I had to finish the movie, to keep going on I had to finish the movie. And now I look forward to a weekend of homework, housework and solitude. I know there are tons of people that will hang with me, and I appreciate that, but it still feels empty and I don't know why. It's like wining a game after cheating, it's a shallow victory full of regreat and what-if's. You never know if you where good enough, there are things that hint you were, but then there are things that hint you wern't. You feel ashamed because you did not go that extra step that extra mile to let them know where you where comming from or how you felt. There is an excitment in your heart and it beats faster when you think of it, but its only a thought. Only a thought and nothing more.

You must return to your life, your rutine that isn't complete. Stick with what you know and who you know, because you can't remember anything else, you refuse to remember anybody else. There are so many opptions, but you just don't know which ones to take. So you have friends, they watch your back and even tell you what to do from time-to-time. "She's todaly hitting on you dood!" Even with thier support I am inadiquet of finding motivation. Even when it is right in front of my face. How hard is it to read a name tag, how hard is it just to look? Is it degrading, invasive or just plan rude? What's in a name? As bill would say, I know I hate quoting that play, but it brings about my final point (and a refrence that I hope isn't lost on all)

Where is the encouragment, where are the heros, where are the Romio's to take a leaf from? Where have the white horses gone to, and why are we out of sunsets? Why we deny reality in its entirty rather then twentyfive minute blips? Where have all the cowboys gone and why is reality in our tv? Fantasy Island is gone forever, only to leave space for The Real World. Why can't I string two thoughts togeather and is anyone going to read this, really?