Goodwill

When someone great is gone.

This chair at Starbucks is pretty uncomfortable. Oh well. Okay I feel super weird typing at Starbucks being on their WiFi and stuff like somebody I know is magically going to appear behind me and be reading all this but I don't think I'd care either way. The thing I care most about is that it affects my psyche and you know when you are observed, you are immensely different. If only there was less separation between the selves; there is not, so we will all grow up and live to discover others, never really knowing anything. I ask, say vague things. Yeahh. Anyways, I went to Goodwill and rifled through other people's notebooks. My life dream. I saw some inspirational shit about being a teacher, which in retrospect is highly ironic. I found a drawing of music notes and a person playing keyboard. I guess I feel like if I can see all this stuff about random people, like that thing I learned in Calc but I forgot. (What was it. Seriously though.............WHAT WAS IT!!!!) ... This is going to bother me tonight. But yeah, that concept that I didn't get about the "person". Maybe it was Philosophy. It was probably Philo. Now I don't know and it's killing me but I remember I thought it was the stupidest thing ever because it was trying to say there was like a "general" person, or something, or I don't know, and I thought, that's just not possible. Like... if you pick a random person from a pool of everyone, they're like everyone. Anyway, that's how I feel when I look at those notebooks. Like maybe if I just pull out a bit of information from some unknown source (an indefinite amount of small sources? Maybe.) Then... then I'm a step closer to knowing a piece of general humanity. Or maybe I could just talk to people, but then there's a million variables and it just gets so hard. Yeah I don't know. All I know is that I hope he talks about me the way he talks about those people one day. One day I hope I can be a really really great memory for him and he can tell some other person about me and what we did and the legacy we left in our minds. I hope... Sometimes I'm very black and white, I remember when I was 14 and ALL I wanted was to make a good impact on somebody's life. I think that was just me forming my morality. Then those years flew by to right now. Then the next 5 years will fly by again. I feel like I'm not getting any better as a person, smarter, anything. Maybe I'm just looking at it wrong. Maybe my intelligence is somewhere else. All I know is I'm not sure how my computer is dying so damn fast. I don't know. I should probably read and be intelligent and understand some people who lived a long time ago. I will. He gets off work at 11. PM. Why would anyone want me back at their house? I guess I'll stop worrying and just try to learn something along the way. I'm quitting my job. I'm getting a new one. I need some change. I also need to focus more on school, and find balance. I remember (I KEEP SAYING I REMEMBER) when I was a sophomore and all I wanted was balance. I told Coach L and he was SO EXCITED. My lord. Only a few times in my life have I felt so glad. It's just connection. But now balance seems like pure hell. All the stuff I knew was ripped out, now I gotta figure it out. Oh well.
Existentialist thoughts in Goodwill: WHO WOULD WANT TO DONATE THIS? WHO WANTED THIS AT ONCE?
I found a polo shirt that is also a button up shirt that is also covered with a picture of a pier. I got a tie that kinda made me want to puke... The only item I actually wanted was too expensive. Can you believe that? I may just go back and buy it right now. Yup. I will. Here the plan: Finish writing. Go buy that skirt. Go somewhere awesome. Read. Read. Read. Read. Smoke some cigarettes. Head over to Ryan's house. Sounds good. I'm nervous, hmm. I wish I could put my head down and just realize stuff. That was fun. Wish I coulda rolled. Oh well. Next time. :-) We're born and then we grow up and the only thing we can really do is figure out life and its intracacies and then we realize, well fuck it because we're all different (figgerent... I almost typed. I need need need need. To read.) and then it's kinda worthless and you don't know much anyways and then it's over, like a little movie or like a burnt out cigarette. It kills you, you love it, sometimes, then it's out. And you realize you're just one in a big chain of cigarettes that will all be smoked and eaten up, thrown out the window. Then what? God gets lung cancer and dies? No. I'm tired of not living in San Francisco. Of feeling like I need to get up and get some addies. Yeah, I don't wanna feel like that anymore. I don't know. Going south, I guess. I want to one day own a house or apartment and have ALL the furniture be from Goodwill. I will just trade out every item until everything is from Goodwill. Then I will buy a Steinway. And a bunch of records. And and and a parrot. It'll be in San Fran and I'll smoke all day, roll all night. Who am I kidding? I don't care what I do, as long as I want to do it at the time. That's the shame. Ephemeral. Nobody can accept that. The only thing that really keeps me warm is "You don't have to prove anything." There's always that one thing, right. I can't accept ephemeral. Or just crazy. It's been a good day, but I'm so hard on myself. I worry myself sick, I worry about everyone around me. I deplete my serotonin and in the end I'm really not interesting AT ALL. I don't want to do anything with Ryan but sit in bed for a few months and watch stuff and be OK and then maybe we'll go outside and learn to do something different. I don't really care. I don't care what we do. I care that we're friends and I can be good to him and maybe some of his goodness and kindness will rub off on me. I sure need it. I've become a bit out of control. Not that I mind. Actually yeah I do. It's all I think about. (Don't you realize that when you say that, it's REALLY not true, you're actually just saying a truth about emotion, which is inherently true. So is it true or false.)