Y so serious?

Caller was a friend... Eventually gave himself up by rickrolling... Need a brighter side of me.

Brighter side. Cheery. Basically, fraudulent? Why should I be happy while other people get bombed tonight?

I think that perhaps even if you don't get your way, if the world is not much better for you being around, you should at least have a laugh I guess.

Or I could just read Ayn Rand and become self absorbed. Probably easier.

RESTRICTED

They're calling me. By "they", I mean someone who has a restricted number and thinks it's funny to call at really odd hours on memorial day. Not say anything when I answer, just faint static. It doesn't leave voicemail, but left a really short message once. It doesn't make sense.

Probably a fax machine on the rye. Automated call center breakdown. Either way, it's fucking creepy.

I dunno. This isn't the retreat I was looking for. So much, yet so little going on. All the annoying things you can think of, not so many fun things you can think of. Can't sleep well, have been antisocialish...

I can't help imagine it's a real person on the other end. Trying to reach out and say something but not having the words. Who would call me? What could they have to say?

Either way, like I say, this isn't fun being home.

Do I have trouble sleeping?

Dad asked that. I said no. Answer was yes. Dad was reading a newspaper story about kids who had trouble sleeping cuz they were stressed, unhappy, etc.

Great.

This doesn't feel like home.

Gotcha.

Killed a mosquito. First one of the year. Got him before he got me. That's the name of the game, don'tyouknow? Bankrupt them before they bankrupt you. It's funny to see that america, the king of capitalism, of this whole game, is starting to lose to china. If only china was really communist. They'd call the loans in and laugh as we shrunk into this quagmire of our own making.

New subject, neither you nor I come on here to listen to me rant about capitalism more.

I have a job that I think I'll end up disliking, probably. Job I'll dislike. Sounds familiar. More traps that you get pushed into by everyone around. Have to get a job, good paying job. Money you make wont be enough. Take out loans. Lots of loans. Live your life working for possessions.

Just like Tyler Durden said. Own enough stuff, and your stuff will end up owning you.

But um.

I have a ton in student loans. So I guess I have to finish college. And work the loans off. And then I'll be like, 25 and have no direction home.

And then I'll find home.

Sounds like a life plan that I'd enjoy.

I must be dreaming.

I'm running

Maybe more like jogging. As fast as my faux dress shoes can carry me. They're pretty heavy and make a weird thumping sound as I go. I'm running, in my only suit and tie, only pair of black dress pants, only pair of dark socks that don't quite match. Running, because the interview I was trying to get to was supposed to start a minute ago, and I had 10 blocks to go.

I'm late, you say? Well, normally it takes less than an hour to get downtown. I'd gotten up at 7 you see, showered and all that, got all dressed up, got on the subway by 8. No problem. Until the subway stops at some forsaken street near Columbia. Sitting there, because the train ahead of us was stopped. Minutes go by. A couple arguing silently by the door. She slaps him and walks away. The guy, chases after her. Grabs her by the shoulder and pushes her into the wall. Everyone stays still, the person next to me typing on her blackberry like nothing happened. I stand up. Breifly considering to jump on the guy if he starts wailing on her. Luckily it doesn't happen. But I'm standing there. I guess it was rude to stare.

10 minutes later and I'm going to be late for this interview. The train pulls away. I'm doomed.

This isn't the worst thing that can happen.

The love of my life that I don't have could slap me and walk away. If I had a love of my life.

This isn't the worst thing that can happen. I could be doing this every day.

The interview starts, the guy is kind of quick and witty, it's kind of odd. He starts by asking about myself, things like that.

"Do you go out drinking a lot?"

It's a serious question he just asked. I think I heard it, but the only thing I can think of is Admiral Ackbar yelling "IT'S A TRAP!" in my ear. I answer truthfully, only occasionally, like once a week. Apparently he'd rather me go out every night. He went out last night, it was a wild night.

Cool.

The interview ends. It wasn't great. At all.

It's not the worst thing that could happen. The worst thing that could happen is still on it's way.