24th
You Can Always Change
Many years ago I truly believed that I would never smoke cigarettes, that I would never do drugs, and that love was a beautiful thing. Of course, these sweet vices, which I had condemned in my youth (relative), have now become a part of my everyday tedium. It is also true that I used to be a ray of sunshine in this bleak world. In the present I become subconsciously excited at the idea of being depressed or angry, whether it be to inspire sympathy in others, or to merely expose my emotional side.
At this instant, due to some combination of activities and events, my mind is coursing with endorphins and serotonin. I feel incredibly spry, despite my severe fatigue resultant of rigorous exercise. I feel joyful, despite my potentially unrequited love for another human being. I am hungry, which I have not felt since I left school to come home (as a result I’ve been eating only once a day; twice at most). Best of all, I feel tired as though I have accomplished something difficult today.
This is a rare mood for me, and quite possibly any person, yet I wonder: will I wake tomorrow to find myself monotonously drifting through the same doldrums I sail through from day to day? It has happened so many times before. This time I want to be able to access the emotions I am feeling right now, and with any success help the rest of the world to do the same.
Tonight I ate a full dinner — meat loaf, mashed potatoes, broccoli, gravy, and biscuits — with a group of adults who were having a nice simple conversation. Nothing terribly complicated; it flowed from subject to subject seamlessly, leaving me with no recollection of any details. Nonetheless, it was good conversation and it was comforting to know I could sit at a table with forty-somethings, drink in hand, and feel as if I was among peers rather than authority figures. This event undoubtedly started me in a good mood. After all, I don’t believe I know any nineteen-year-olds who are not struggling to be treated like an adult, except those who have already achieved that stature.
Rory Marinich arrived after I spent some time playing World of Warcraft with an unusually delightful group of strangers. Our plan was to work out to the tune of P90X Chest and Back, but unfortunately the internet presented us with much more appealing opportunities. A girl, “Kara”, decided it would be good to tell me she wants to have sex with me while drunkbooking. I was obviously flattered because… well, who wouldn’t be flattered? From this comment stemmed a complex network of what-ifs and why-nots that I could not even begin to satisfy with potential outcomes. Of course, Rory thought it best to help me out by assisting me in communicating with Kara. While he looked at it like a movie, carefully ensuring that it followed dramatic structure, I pushed my history and feelings for Kara delicately through the sentences we constructed together. To be perfectly honest, it was an unnecessary exercise in drama, but it was fun nonetheless.
Thorough conversation with Kara left me in a state of pure confidence. Only one in so many people tell me I’m cute, and hearing it from her was nice. By the time we had finished with our endeavour it was already 12:45am. We still had to work out, and still being sore from working out on Tuesday I was not looking forward to it. Having been at college for months in a frigid environment with little room to exercise in the way I prefer (I like to clmb things), I have fallen out of shape. Push-ups tormented me, pull-ups burned ferociously, and sit-ups brought me very close to the point of vomitting. Needless to say, when all was said and done I felt as if I had been hit by a snow plow. I did feel good though. Not only does exercise naturally improve mood, but pain does as well (and I had plenty of that).
Rory left, and at some point I noticed an ATV sitting in our garage that was definitely new, and certainly wasn’t there yesterday… or the day before… or ever. I didn’t know what to think about that, but it made me happy anyway. I went upstairs despite my fatigue and started writing.
Tomorrow, I’ll probably wake up at noon feeling sore in all sorts of places I did not expect to. I might actually eat a big bowl of Special K in the interest of not starving to death. At 4:00PM I’ll begin cooking the Chateaubriand I have decided to prepare for my family as a gift for Christmas. In the time between I’m going to reread this and attempt to access the feelings I mentioned. If it doesn’t work I’ll try something new, but I have a good feeling.
