There are some upsides and downsides to having your blog start to catch on. The first downside is that most of your readers came because you were assaulted on AIM, and you have to somehow woo them enough to keep them coming back. Pressure is fun, especially when you're talking about your fucking blog. I have no life. Another downside is that people start to expect new posts from you all the time. I talked to that big-cocked wonder Sujoy before about updating his blog (he hasn't in almost three months) and he said, "man, I don't know how you do it." I do it because I have people like Luke telling me it's been a week, and that's too long.
Luckily, the upside is that I have enough eccentric thoughts to carry this thing on at a semi-regular basis. As a special bonus, I'm giving you two updates tonight, hopefully buying me enough time in between these updates and the next one. Huzzah!
Why are people ashamed of sleep? No one is ever happily saying that they slept through things; everyone's always sorry. If I sleep through someone's call I'm always mortified. How selfish am I, giving my body the rest it dearly needs while my pal is calling up asking me if I have an idea on something to do? I might be in the majority, but I think sleep is the cat's pajamas. Never again will I apologize for sleeping through something. Instead, I will say something akin to, "well it's not my fault you tried to contact me while I was trying to rejuvenate my yearning body of the natural rest that it needs to properly function as the well-run machine that it truly is." Or something less wordy. Like, "hey, eat me." Probably that.
As you may know, I am very critical of what goes up in AOL Instant Messenger aways and profiles. I have seen a slew of such informational placards display a quote from the movie Blow, which states: Sometimes you're flush and sometimes you're bust, and when you're up, it's never as good as it seems, and when you're down, you never think you'll be up again, but life goes on. The subtle irony of this quote is that Jung ends up locked in jail forever, and never sees his family, the one thing he longs to do. He doesn't go back up. Quite the opposite, in fact. His life is pitiful. I want this quote stricken from all always and profiles unless you think it's a bonus to end up in jail for life. If that is your goal, more power to you.
The choreographer for the upcoming Kiss Me Kate at Park Ridge High School (July 27-29th 8 PM cheap plug?) has a two-year-old named Christopher who is incredibly germophobic. He constantly needs to wash his hands or use Purell. I don't have the heart to tell him that while he's trying to get the germs off of his hands he still uses a diaper. How can a germophobe shit them selves? Is that the greatest irony of all time? Or, me not knowing the greatest irony is, in fact, the greatest irony of all time? Or, is that that I think I don't know what the greatest irony of all time is while therefore
Everything in life is a middle school dance. No matter how old you are, what function you are attending, or what standing you have in society, there will always be a time where guys and girls will split up into different sections no more than four feet apart from each other and not recognize the existence of the other group. There has to be some sort of evolutionary explanation for this, because it simply doesn't stop. I have seen it at concerts (maybe avoiding sexual assault?), waiting around during rehearsals, on line for the T, and in classrooms. I had a discussion last year that had about 20 girls and 7 guys, and you can bet your sweet fanny that all of the guys clumped together as the girls surrounded us, like the succubuses they are. This just goes to show that men and women will never get along, unless alcohol and loneliness are involved...but that has a finite grace period (the morning, or directly afterwards).
Why is licking blood so weird? If I have a cut, the first thing I do is put my mouth over it and keep that sweet nector of life in my system, not losing a drop to the outer world. Someone had a cut during my last show and couldn't really take care of it before making another entrance. I said to simply suck the wound--what other option was there? She looked at me like i had three heads, or some body configuration that is equally as irregular. Seeing how I needed to back up my blood-sucking position, I began to say, "if it comes from your body, it's ok to put back in there." Then I thought about piss and was ready to be called a freak. Luckily, she didn't throw that back in my face, so no one ever knew that I pretty much said I'd be ok to drink piss.
Totally got away with it!
Have you ever been an incredible asshole without knowing it before hand? For example, have you ever made a cancer joke around someone who lost a close relative to cancer...but you were never informed of said tragedy? You don't get off the hook. No, you are forever in guilt because you were an insufferable douche without any proper warning. I have decided to coin this phenomenon the "unknown asshole." You have no idea what a prick you're being until it is far too late. You cannot stop it, you can never avoid it, and you're always susceptible to being a real dick.
Sometimes speaking is incredibly dangerous. Whether it be the passing of my Uncle recently, or my infatuation with Muse's album Absolution and the song "Time Is Running Out," I've become cognizant of how many little actions you do influence others. Obviously we all know that if you punch someone in the face there will be some ramifications. What we don't pay attention to, however, is how telling the little things are. The snide remark you make that is interpreted as pushing someone away, a ride home to someone who has a crush on you, even the slight brushing of someone's leg against yours.
There is precious little time in this life to toy around. It's said all of the time, and it's hard to believe when you sit around your house and play Winning Eleven 9 on PS2 and contemplate how lonely and bored you are, but your life is not going to last forever. People often ask, "what is life?" It's fleeting. Some things do live on, far past your death. Your reputation, your character, your name. There are people in my life that I didn't realize I missed until I started talking to them after a period of silence. Some people I need to distance myself from before they take me down with them. Others I simply will never be able to excise from my life, which is really good and bad.
Always be on your toes, because the window of time to explain things closes with each passing day. You only have one life to live--or if you believe in reincarnation, a shit load of them--so don't dilly-dally, sirs and ma'ams.