February 23, 2010

afraid of what everyone is made of

I am having an existential crisis. I felt it coming on for the past 3 days now like a way-delayed sneeze, considering I've been spending 8-12 hour stretches of time outside of my home in constant company who distracts me from letting this existential party pooper get all up ins. And then I walked home in cold wet weather tonight and when I got home I looked like this:


Wet. Eye-makeup smudgey. Forlorn demeanor. Short in the arms.

And then it happened with an apocalypse's restraint. It was waiting for me in my room when I flicked on the lights. The ambiguously ethnic people who live in the building next door that my bedroom shares a wall with muttered through the drywall, as they always do. It's kind of creepy.

I was like "Oh. Hey."
And my Existential Crisis was just like, "Yep."

And I proceeded to sit at my computer trolling the internet with no real aim, hoping to find some sort of promise or offer for monetary security or maybe a missed connection, whatever. I thought about calling someone. Just to talk. But of course I realized that that's what I've been doing this whole time. Just talking. If nobody was comforting and distracting me on ichat, I don't think them listening to my short breath and whining would do me any better.
I downloaded new music for the soundtrack to this pathetic half-winded episode. The Chipotle I gorged on earlier is still churning in my stomach. I'm breaking out in hives on my arms and ankles. I don't think the Chipotle is helping that.

Despite my weary greeting to this semi-expected occasion, it brings back all the old familiar misgivings. Everything I'm excited about is based on things that don't exist yet. The things I'd like to let myself be excited about also don't quite exist. I have a pretty firm handle on realistic vs. ideal. I'm borderline skint but thinking about it doesn't really earn me anything.

And any advances from the opposite sex only alienate and alarm me. I am impatient and restlessly aggrieved. Sometimes combative, even if it is thinly veiled with what I think is entertaining cheeky sass but is most likely just bratty indulgence. Even I am annoying myself. There's nothing worse than feeling alone (I mean single, not like in a room by yourself. But you can be single and in a room by yourself and that doesn't feel so good either), misunderstood, and maybe even a little bit estranged. Simultaneously.
I forget what it feels like to actually have a legit crush on someone without a slight contemptuousness when I think about the expectations I barely allow myself. Simple chivalrous things. Like opening doors and all that. Like NOT having to go dutch on a coffee date for once (or even a dinner date). Like a second date that doesn't include a booty call.
I am unimpressed. Someone had told me that I was "clinically unimpressed" recently. And while I argued in my defense before, I've come to relent. Fuck it. Things are not so great all the time, okay?
Radar is down.

I thought of this today, as I was accompanying Henry on a celebratory wardrobe-revamping shopping spree for his new job/just cuz. Barely anything caught my eye and if it did I wouldn't do much more than finger the material, hold it up and put it back with no more than a shrug. I'm a pretty basic consumer, but nothing gets me giddier than new Spring collections in this cold dreary season. And NOTHING. My joy for getting all dressy-uppy made like my appetite and skipped town.
Seeing nice things just gets me all indignant at the resentment I have towards price tags. Also the rod in my closet collapsed last night after I put a cardigan on hanger on it, so I think I probably should get rid of some clothes first before buying new Spring things.


I am trying to make the best of this existential crisis. I am drinking so much coffee. I am having weird dreams. I'm eating Chipotle. I never eat Chipotle! (and after this bout of indigestion I may avoid it entirely) I'm going on dates even though they are boring dates with not much feeling more than romantic nihilism. I'm sticking to someone's guns. I hope they are mine.   
I'm hoping I do at least one brash thing that inspires momentum in a positive proactive direction.

No, I have not read The Secret and I have no intentions to.

4 comments:

Simone said...

welcome to your quarter-life crisis. i'm trying to combat it. fight!

DJ Berndt said...

I don't think I handle an existential crisis as well as you do.

オテモヤン said...
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
Anonymous said...

I think you need a break. A long sunny break with yourself and, you know, hot twenty-somethings with nothing better to do than dote on you and bring you margaritas on the rocks while you're getting some sun next to the pool.

But if you don't have time for that then I suggest screaming.