Tuesday, August 9, 2011

august, again

strange times.

mostly I'm too busy to remember to miss a lot of things, and a lot of people, but sometimes when I get home earlier than usual I feel intensely, terribly lonely. I'm sure I'd turn to drink if I were of a certain disposition, but mainly I turn to writing and watching baseball. so it could be a lot worse.

I'm always compulsive about the things I care about, and that's bad enough in and of itself, but it's worse when it's the only thing I care about. there aren't a whole lot of people in this state I'm interested in hanging out with, and I can only force myself on the ones I do like so many times a week. for their sakes. so the other things I care about, the books and games and shows, get a lot of attention, and I know so clearly that it's a problem, that it's separating me from the world, but I can't do anything about it. my internal clock wants me home at 7 PM to watch baseball. I'm honestly afraid this will be at least a big a factor in me never having any guy care about me as my general physical plainness and lack of confidence.

the people I share the most of my life with are concealing things from me, and that's normal and natural and all, because nobody knows everything about anybody, but it makes my stomach hurt. it makes me anxious. I feel like there are things I've been marked unfit to know because I can't understand, and I feel like people are tired of me and the way I am, and I don't know how to fix it. I don't care about a whole lot of people I've actually met, so always-just-missing the ones I do care about hurts a lot.

in less than a month I'm leaving the country for four months. any billion things could happen in those four months. I'm looking forward to them.

my work this summer has been awesome, as jobs go. but I don't want my work to take over my life. I'm on a career track that very well could do that, and I don't really need any help in not having time to spend with people. I wish my career track was "travel around South America for a while, write about mountains and baseball, then come back and be able to make enough money to live by writing books forever." someone find me an internship with that company. my Spanish is falling behind where it was in May, though. someone find me a Venezuelan to practice with.

I don't know, it mainly boils down to me not caring enough to keep hanging out with people I don't really like, thereby being stuck in my own house too much, knowing a whole lot about things that interest me and not feeling like I have anyone to talk to about them. add in some Mountain Goats, you've got my summer in a nutshell.

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