They Say the Devil's Water, It Ain't so Sweet...

I haven't posted since 4.20.08, so it stands to reason that some of you probably think that I was so distraught over the Columbine Shooting Anniversary that I just couldn't get out of bed long enough to blog about my life. Or perhaps on that day when I got my subway the Sandwich Artist said to me "Happy Holiday," and I fell into a deep depression that my generation remembers to toke up all day long on Four-Twenty rather that remember the Trench Coat Mafia. These are two very good assumptions as to why I haven't posted, but in reality I've just not had anything good to say.

I could talk about my short-lived season at Cedar Point, but I won't because it's horse shit and is just another reminder that this string of bad luck in my life has really no end in sight. I left that place with a bad taste in my mouth in 2004 knowing that I should never go back. What's the saying: "Fuck me once, shame on you. Fuck me twice, shame on me?" What about fuck me 282344 times? Is that still me?

I could talk about my vindication to that experience, but that would mean I'd have to talk about the situation itself: Fuck that.

I could talk about this endless battle against cancer and how it's finally taken it's toll on me physically, emotionally, and mentally. How a year ago I was the driving force, not needing a support system, riding on my own hot air and ego high into the upper atmosphere. Now, sometimes I just with it would end... one way or another. All of the lessons I thought I was supposed to be learning(perseverance, empathy, sympathy, leadership, ect) are now in backwards mode and I see myself turning back into a selfish child about everything. I can remember a cold day in Bloomington during my very first finals week when my car was broken into and my passenger side window was broken. I had to skip a day of finals to talk to my insurance and make arrangements with a local shop for the next day. I had to drop my car off the night before, so Emily drove me to to work that night. I had been waiting for her to show up to my apartment after her class ended, and when she pulled up she got out of her car meeting me with a big hug at the bottom of the steps to my apartment complex. She said to me, "Sometimes bad things happen to good people." I guess I just have to get over all of the bullshit "Everything happens for a reason" rhetoric and just accept that this cancer is as random as my window getting broken that day. I've spent too much time trying to rationalize and find meaning to all of this.

I could talk about my Trip to Indianapolis and Bloomington, but I feel like people get tired of hearing how I love going back there. I drove by the park where I'd sit down and read books; I drove by the campus I was 9 credits from transferring to; I drove by the comedy club where I spent a few of the best Monday nights of my life; I briefly saw the greatest people I'll ever meet; I stayed with the most amazing person I'll ever know; I ate food at the Olive Garden that was made wrong, and I hate that I can't forget how the Olive Garden should be; and I remembered what it was like to be me.

Winston Churchill said something to the effect "When you think you are at the end of your rope, tie and knot and hang on." I just didn't know that your rope could grow and that you could keep tying more knots. Maybe I keep underestimating how long my rope can get.

Rent/Netflix/Buy An Unfinished Life, it's a good one.