f-f-f-fake it

previously published by me elsewhere:

I really suck at maintaining this blog.

I have several friends who post all of the time. It's so much more interesting to read theirs than to write one of my own.

Most of the time my life feels too empty to remark on.

I woke up around 5 AM. I was awkwardly positioned across our couch wearing last night's clothes. The remote control was poking into my ribcage, probably shooting cancer through my flesh. Sugar Ray's Mark McGrath was on the TV assuring us of his washed-up career by hosting the infomercial for the "Buzz Box", a radio friendly alternative CD collection.

I feel strangely refreshed from my sleep.

It couldn't have possibly been long enough, given the expectations of so-called health professionals. I do the math, but I have to count back first based on the last thing I remember watching. I didn't even remember watching TV. Maybe I was just flipping channels. Either way I went narcoleptic for a stretch in my own private Idaho, thankfully without having to be outdoors.

I wash down a glass of water, contemplating whether or not to grab more sleep. I'm not tired in the least, even though I must be running on about three and a half hours or so. It's nothing a couple cups of coffee can't cure. I'll make some in a couple hours, maybe when I think about sleep again. There's a system to spacing out your caffeine intake that just works.

But what's the point, anyway? I have a plain life, with minimal exertion. I went to a party last night. My whole day was building up to this, as if having anything scheduled starts to feel like busy. The problem is I didn't enjoy myself in the least. One of our friends has these low-key gatherings at his house every month with twenty or thirty people and eating, drinking, music, maybe a bonfire, but most especially drinking.

It's frustrating. There are always familiar faces who have been there previously, but they're consistently strangers. Any conversation at one of these seems all but forgotten by the next. It's all shallow chit-chat anyway, often just obligatory due to spatial proximity and not real interest. I hate feeling like I crashed somebody's party when I was invited.

That's not all, though. What did I say? My life is empty and plain. Wow, I must be great at parties! Truthfully, I have an ability to fake a better mood so if there's something wrong most people's radar completely misses it. It's an easy trick when doses of sarcasm are a regular guest, and not just representative of an irksome state.

Unfortunately like putting powder and rouge over bruises, it doesn't actually change anything except appearances. It turns out that a new coat of paint works just as poorly. We splashed a few coats onto our kitchen and living room of our rental last month, after four years of residence in hopes to introduce a new vibe and pleasure to coming home.

This isn't home, though.

I'm not sure what it will take to be satisfied with my life. Perhaps control. One of my friends tuned me into getting free daily horoscopes in my e-mail from this site. On a lark, I signed up for the whole gamut, and 95% of the time they are way off the mark. Half the time I delete them without looking.

I took at peek a little while ago at one that goes into more specifics about the general cycle of life, love, career, and whatnot. I was intrigued to find this being said in my career section. "Your quest right now is this: Does the end always justify the means? If you're in doubt, don't cock the trigger."

It always comes back to career with me, whether it's dealing with small town malaise, working long hours for free or literal peanuts, being seen as an un-hirable risk at regular day jobs, or going from one pointless endeavor to the next. There's a miniscule film scene in this town, who strangely do not all know one another, so I keep finding new people who are making the same crap elsewhere. I'm in the midst of trying to sell myself to these newly found folks, but what's the point? I'd like to think there's art in the process and not just the product, but what if it's just another ugly piece of crap no matter which direction you throw it?

Should I just fake it? AGAIN!