Things That Don't Matter

So right now it’s the Friday after Thanksgiving. Well technically it’s Saturday but I don’t count it as that until I’ve gone to sleep for some period of time between 3-7am. I’m sitting on the couch in the quite sizable living room of my uncle’s beach house in Delaware where my extended family have convened for the past several days for Thanksgiving. Everyone else is at this point in bed leaving me alone here to fall asleep when and where I wish which will probably be right here and soon. The lights are all out and it is dark except for the fire burning on the hearth and this laptop projecting on my face. The CD that was playing on the stereo system has reached it’s end yet the music still echoes in my head. It is quiet except for the crackling of the fire and the whistling of the fierce wind blowing outside and seeping in through the gaps around a not so well sealed door making me all the more thankful for the warm glow emanating from the fireplace. This week has been fun, being with me extended family usually is. I’m a little surprised though at how enjoyable it turned out to be because I expected that everything that was bothering me back at home would stay on my mind, yet for the past couple days it’s all seemed so distant. Probably because it is. College applications is one of the things to which I refer, and I have to have one of those done by Tuesday so I should be super stressed right now but I’m not. The other thing that I expected would make this week miserable is what made last week miserable which is essentially that for the past seven weeks I’ve lived the plot of thousands of books, movies, and TV shows and right now I’m either at the unhappy ending or the plot twist thrown in to extend things another 50 pages, half hour, or season. Which of those it is I have no clue. I was hoping to be able to use this time away to think hard about it and decide which of those it is and what my course of action should be as a result, but since I got here thoughts about it feel slippery, I’m not able to hold them in my mind and concentrate and I don’t feel as bad about it either. I know though that when I get back to school Monday it will all hit me like a freight train and I probably won’t be ready for it, not that anyone could ever really be ready to be hit by a freight train. So that leaves me here and now, not sure what I should be thinking, what I should do when I get back, and not really able to care. My one prevailing thought is that I wish my co-star were here, and although that is a pleasant fantasy it is in no way helpful. All I can do is lie back, and drift to sleep.

No, I’m not about to write an article about indigestion, I thought it an appropriate title for the following story.

Indigestion

He sat on the kitchen floor, back against the cupboards. His eyes were open, but staring off into space in such the way that they may as well have been closed as far as he was concerned. He felt cold, even though there was no reason for him to. He was wearing a fleece and the heating was on, yet he shivered. He thought about the day’s events, and when he reached the moment he was currently at he thought about them again. It really had been one mess of a day. He thought about it over and over, trying different perspectives, different orders. He ran it forwards, backwards, sideways if that was even possible. He thought about the moment in class when she’d told him. Well, hadn’t even told him, just pointed, and mumbled sorry. It had been the worst moment of his life. It had felt like his brain had fallen through his neck and knocked his heart into his stomach which ended up cascading along with all of his other internal organs down to his feet. It was a moment that would be in his mind forever, similar to what had occurred the week before, but totally different. He’d felt sick to his stomach for the rest of the day since then, but he knew it had nothing to do with anything he’d eaten.

How was it that a day like this could come so soon on the heels of what had happened last week, when he’d had the best day of his life? How was it that his whole world could be turned upside down with a hand gesture? The rest of the day passed in a blur from that point. He didn’t pay attention in classes, and when he got home he couldn’t do homework, he couldn’t work on college applications, he couldn’t even sleep. He put on The Daily Show to try and forget it all but he couldn’t laugh. Even when he was able to focus on the show he just didn’t find it funny. He doubted there was a thing in the world he would find funny at that moment. He felt like he might not find anything funny ever again. Well, that was an exaggeration, but he felt like he was allowed to exaggerate, rather that he needed to exaggerate to fully communicate the utter emptiness he felt inside, which wasn’t just from not being able to eat.

He tried to think of what he was going to do now. Doing nothing would drive him insane, he knew that for sure. He’d done nothing his entire life and always regretted it so nothing was not an option. The past five weeks had been weeks in which he had done something, and those had gone pretty well, at least until today. Maybe this was the sign that his luck had run out. He sighed, he was at a loss for what to do, he was at a loss for what to think, hell he was even at a loss for what to feel. He’d felt it all that day. He’d been angry, in denial, depressed, even accepting a couple times. Anger had been his favourite, except he didn’t know who he should be angry at, other than himself for feeling this way in the first place. He ended up just lashing out at whoever happened to be near. He wasn’t angry now though, but nor was he in denial, or even depressed. Well, maybe a little depressed. He wasn’t accepting either. He felt like this still had to go somewhere. Last week had meant too much to him not to go anywhere. He thought back to last week, a happier time when everything had seemed right with the world. He remembered the moment, standing with her in the unused stairwell, the way she’d smiled, the feeling of her hair in his hand, of her hands on the back of his neck, of her lips on his. All he’d been able to think about for the rest of that week was that he wanted to do that again, and he still felt that way now, but it was coupled with the knowledge that it wouldn’t happen.

He turned his head and looked at the empty space next to him. He imagined that she was sitting there with him on the floor. He imagined how much better that would make him feel, and that made him feel worse. He imagined that he would uncross his arms, and put one around her shoulders. She would lean against him, maybe rest her head on his shoulder, and all would be right with the world. He imagined that they would talk. They would talk about anything, he loved conversing with her. He would say something funny and she would laugh, then he would kiss her again. A slight movement somewhere caused his eyes to refocus and he saw just the plain white emptiness of the kitchen cabinets. He almost lost it right then and there, he was flooded with so much sadness and anger and everything he’d felt for the past five weeks rushed into his mind. His stomach tightened and he thought for a moment he might actually get sick, but the feeling died down, and he was left numb, void of thought and emotion. He thought about today again, and got no further than he had before.

As he was sitting on the floor contemplating all of this his dog came over and lay down against his leg. He didn’t think that anyone could have been more comforting than the dog at that moment. She didn’t say anything, she didn’t ask questions, she just knew something was wrong and did what she knew would help. Either that or she wanted something warm to lie against. Either way it didn’t matter much to him.

“Well, I’ll always have you, won’t I?” he said to the dog, and in that moment realized exactly how pathetic his life really was.

So the past four weeks (as of tomorrow) have been the most tumultuous, confusing, and at the same time wonderful weeks of my life, and of course I can’t write about any of it. Sometimes I wish I hadn’t told people I know about this site because it means that I have to think about what I say, and that’s not what the internet is about, although it would also mean not having much of a readership. And no, it is not anything illegal. It’s my excuse for not having done much of anything including update this site for the past month and that’s all I’m going to say. Although actually I’ve been much better about this recently, at least more so than over the summer. And now for something completely different: I found someone I hate almost as much as Rush Limbaugh.

No... me.

Glenn Beck is about the biggest media whore I have ever encountered (not size wise, that still goes to Rush). I don’t understand how anyone can watch his show without feeling sick to their stomach or bursting out laughing. A couple of weeks ago I was over at a friend’s house and flipping through channels we decided to put on Beck because we thought it would be funnier than the episode of South Park airing opposite on Comedy Central. Really, if he wants to be taken seriously he should probably give up on the shirt, tie, blazer, jeans combo, and also stop making faces and crying so much. The episode we saw featured Lord Christopher Walter Monckton who I thought looked like a frog and spoke less sensibly. He was on the show to talk about how a UN climate control treaty is the basis for a world communist government. He provided absolutely no support, rather spent the entire time predicting doom for the U.S. if our evil overlord Obama signs it. The guest who sat opposite him wasn’t memorable because his job was to be the “opposing viewpoint”, and on Fox “opposing viewpoint” really means less extremist, but fundamentally the same. When he wasn’t being shushed by Beck or Monckton he was expressing the same view just less assertively. This is clearly meant to create the illusion that everyone feels the same way about this, and anyone who falls for it is such an idiot I’m surprised they know how to turn on the TV. I’m pretty sure it’s safe to say that most episodes of Glenn’s program follow this same format of idiot guest vs. slightly less assertive idiot guest with Glenn Beck in the middle making stupid comments and crying. I’m afraid watching more of the show to confirm my theory could have adverse effects on my mental health. I sincerely hope that he really is just a media whore and doesn’t really believe what he says, because if he really does I find that a little scary. Unfortunately even if he just says stuff for the attention there are people out there who believe him, all those “real Americans” I always have to hear about. Am I not an American because I don’t agree with your opinion? It’s when I hear people like Beck that I seriously consider moving to Europe as an adult… and telling everyone I’m Canadian.