I hate it when my life is such that I can't make my experiences funny and readable and put them into a nice neat little entry.That's a lie. I could do that if I wanted to. You can make anything funny. Most of what I write about in here isn't funny at all: staying in my apartment all day, being unemployed, preferring a virtual world to the real one, weight fluctuations, and chronic shyness. And yet people are always commenting on how my diary makes them laugh, or smile, at least. And I like that, because that's what I'm basically going for. Turning something serious into something still-serious-but-amusing-when-you-put-it-this-way. Yeah.
But Hell, today I just don't feel like it.
My mom had a serious talk with me last night. She's worried about me. My inertia. My internet addiction. My lack of a social life. My no longer having a job. My not making any effort to apply to university for next year like I intended to. My bingeing on junk food while I stay awake all night on the computer. My going to sleep at 6 in the morning and waking up at 2 in the afternoon.
And so she should be worried. I know I am. Or rather, I would be, if I could shake this goddamn apathy that seems to have overwhelmed me over the past few weeks.
I'll be turning 21 in ten days. I'm a grown-up now. I'm not supposed to behave like this. This reminds me of the dawning of my disillusionment with my teenage life back in the ninth grade, when I dyed my hair black and put on my best scowl and pinched cigarettes off my dad and secretly swigged vodka from the liquor cabinet when I came home for lunch just to make my next class more bearable and then came home from school and sat curled up under my desk in my room writing angst-filled poetry and stopped putting effort into anything that didn't involve my own idiosyncratic obsessions. Only this time it's without the extreme hair-dyeing, and excessive drinking, and the smoking, and so far it's without the excrutiating poetry as well. I've been there, done that, I suppose. But that same feeling is there. That bah-humbug feeling. And I think I know why it's there, too. But I won't go on about that today.
I know I'll never fully regress to that state of mind from my early teenage years. I've learned too much since then. Yes, I'm at that point in my life people talk about where I've learned just enough to be aware of how little I know. At least, I think I am. Maybe I'm just being pretentious. I feel pretentious sometimes, writing entries. I notice how I seem to write about everything except the things that are really weighing on my mind, disturbing me. I also don't discuss my past much .. but mostly because it seems unnecessary most of the time. My diary is the kind of diary where you could start reading at any entry, almost, and not be confused, not wonder what I was referring to. Some people's diaries are more like ongoing sagas, and if you don't read back and get the gist of the person's life, you'll be confused as hell. Nothing wrong with those diaries. I just don't write that way ... I wonder if it's less intimate of me, less confiding ... I'm not sure. I'm not a secretive person, but I just assume there are things .. well, details that are better left omitted unless a person specifically asks. You know? If there's one thing I hate hearing from people, it's "Uhh, woah, that's more information than I needed.", or something to that effect.
Which is why I rarely discuss things like dates, my sex life, my emotional struggle type things, and a bunch of other things I can't even bring myself to refer to.
That's not going to change. I think I'll always write this way in this diary ... perhaps opening up more occasionally with entries like this one, or maybe just with random details revealed that I'll include in entries even though doing so makes me nervous. That's the way I've always written, that's the way I'll continue to write, because it's my style.
At least, I don't think it will change. But how should I know? I'm too busy being me to see myself objectively enough to know what I'll do next.
I don't know why I've said all of this to you today. I guess I was just thinking of how strange it is that I make people laugh by telling them about my life, when these past few months my life has been nothing but a massive emotional struggle. Perhaps less strange when I take into account the fact that that's precisely the reaction I wanted from people.
But as bad as I am
I'm proud of the fact
That I'm worse than I seem
-Ani DiFranco (from the song Grey)
That was an unusually soul-baring entry. This time, I won't apologize for it as I usually do when I get this way. Because I only do that to cover my butt anyway.
No more.
Back tomorrow, or the next day perhaps, with the usual Ripe n' tasty wit. I hope.
Oh, look at me, I'm so *melancholy*.
Yes, woe is me. *Rolls eyes*
You just knew I'd find a way to throw another webcam picture in there, didn't you?
Au revoir for now.
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