usually i try not to write in this blog unless i can think of something extraordinarily hilarious to share with everyone, and then i go out of my way to make people laugh...
but then i thought to myself, i started writing this blog in the first place so i would have a public forum to put my thoughts into something concrete, where i could look at them from an outside perspective, and maybe try to get to know myself a little bit better.
maybe it's time i took this blog in a new direction, sure i'll stick with humor, but only when it comes to me naturally, otherwise i'll stick with a journal of the life i live, which sometimes might be funny, sometimes might be boring, sometimes might be down right regrettable, but in the end, it's all 100% real. and that is going to remain a fact from here on in.
well lately i've been thinking, i'm not really the biggest story telling guy... by which i mean, when i make a bad decision, its generally not something i want to tell stories about to all my friends.
and if it is something i would tell someone about, then i'm not one to consider it a bad story.
but thinking back, all of my bad decisions have a single common factor... alcohol- and my inability to rationalize anything when i'm drunk... i'm an impulsive and reactive, and i don't tend to think much.
there's only one other thing on this earth that makes me act like i do when i'm drunk, and that's a girl. and not just any girl- my standards are too stringent for my own good. you could put me in a room with 20 girls willing to do anything, and odds are i'm not going to want anything to do with any of them...
but you put one girl in that room that knocks my socks off, then odds are i'll lose all sense of self, and get impulsive and insanely self conscious, almost to the point that i'm too shy to do anything, and too afraid to ever try making a move, because i'm afraid of screwing things up, which almost invariably happens anyways.
here's the real kicker, hanging out with a one in a million girl, while i'm drinking... this is where bad decisions come into play... and i have a history of screwing things up.
my kinda bad decisions are the kind that other people often think make for fantastic stories, but i hate sharing them. <-- this is where rumors come into play.
recently I've made a bad mistake... and yes, the few friends who know about it thought it made for a fantastic story, but i on the other hand regret that it had to happen the way it did.
if you've been paying attention to what I've been writing thus far, then i'm sure you can figure out the turning point of this story... - i got drunk with one of those one in a million girls.
the problem is, things didn't go as expected, sadly- they went almost as wished... but we were drunk, so no, it wasn't a good thing.
i've often heard it said, and lived as if it were fact, that "a drunk girl's words, are the sober girl's thoughts." and knowing how much more honest and upfront i usually am when i myself am drunk, i've lived to believe that girls are always more truthful when they are intoxicated.
it's a belief that has served me well in the past, and listening to a drunk girls words, have led me to avoid the torture the sober girl would bring on.
but this case is opposite, it is the words of the sober girl fending me away, and the words and actions of the drunk girl, drawing me in.
confusion crosses stage right.
and if all the worlds a stage, and all the men and women merely players, then where does that leave me? this surely must be a pivotal scene, at least one of dramatic significance...
what is this i'm writing here to you? this written soliloquy, narrating the disturbance of tranquility within the sanctum of my body mind and soul, this damning piece, sure to burn bridges and raze cities, the very exposure of these emotions shall extinguish the last hope my soul can bear to bring forth in this world...
theatrics aside, my life takes these battles in stride. for without failure, how are we to know true success?
and if its true that the sober girl suppresses these feelings, and the intoxicated spirit beneath the rough exterior is willing to show me the truth, who do i follow? do i take the lead from the spirit, and pursue? or do i follow the words of sobriety, and give up this false hope?
noone has said it better than she herself,
“You’ve only got three choices in life — give up, give in, or give it all you’ve got.”
and with those words echoing in my mind, i wonder... how much longer until i have no choice left but to just give up?
and is this struggle even worth my time?
the coherency of this rant is lost now even on myself, but it felt good to write.
and a message to you:
I don't regret letting you kiss me, and I don't regret kissing you back. what i do regret, is not being strong enough to sweep you off your feet and make you mine, before i lose it forever...
in the morning, i may regret even writing this page, but for now, it was something i had to do.
until then,
TRIP
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