Just a Buck

I don't carry cash very often. Occasionally I'll pull a twenty out of the ATM when I know that I'm going to a poker game, a restaurant where I'm going to need to tip, or a place that I know only accepts cash, but for the most part its plastic only. The last time I got cash out of an ATM was probably 2 months ago.

I pulled a twenty out then, and have been spending it down over the pas couple months at random places when I didn't want to or couldn't use my card. $20 to $15, then to $8, and then to $4, and finally to $1. Just one. No change left over even. A single dollar. In fact, I forgot I had it most of the time. Every time I opened my wallet I would see that single lonely bill just sitting there, waiting to be used. But  it  didn't mean much to me, even the extremely poor college student that I am. I mean, what can you buy with a dollar these days anyway?

A worthless dollar.

However, as I exited the grocery store today to see the fairly well dressed pregnant woman uncomfortably approach me and explain that her credit card didn't work and she needed gas to get back home--even a dollar would help--my mind immediately flew to the single lonely bill. The worthless dollar. The dollar that meant so much to this woman whose watery eyes were begging for anything. I opened up my wallet and gave  her all the cash I had. One dollar. She sounded so grateful as she gingerly placed the bill in her purse and thanked me.

On the way home I was thinking. I carried that worthless bill around for weeks. It started off a beautiful crisp twenty, and as time progressed it  became smaller  and smaller until the single wrinkled denomination became the backdrop to my wallet. But it still had a purpose. The whole time I was carrying around that extra 1.00 grams of paper so that I could give it to her and she could get  home. Every time I went to school, it was with me. Every time I went to practice, it was with me. Every time I pulled my wallet out of my pocket and carelessly tossed it on my desk before I went to sleep, the dollar was in there. Waiting. The  twenty became  reduced because I wanted a pack of gum from the gas  station, and further because of an In-N-Out burger, and even further because of a chocolate bar, but the whole time, that one dollar was saving itself for someone that really needed it.

A priceless dollar.

I know someone out there  is carrying a dollar for me. I'm going to need it someday, and  I'll be very grateful.

Crying.

I'll have you know, I cry a lot. ALL the time. Probably every day. WOAH, stop judging me already, jeeze. It's not like, ALL the time, all the time. Just like, all the time. Or more like, just sometimes. Occasionally. ONCE in a while. I mean, not VERY often, like really, barely at all. Once in a blue moon. Yea, that's the one. I like, NEVER cry. I'm still like, SUPER manly and stuff. I could start going into all the details, but I like to think of myself as not-conceited so I shall hold off for the time being. If you really want to know, just shoot me a message and I shall indulge myself, erm, you, in listing all of my manly qualities. But, back to bawling my eyes out whenever I watch "How I Met Your Mother."

Did I let that slip? Whoops, I meant, back to how I barely cry at all. QUICK! Just imagine me grunting a lot and lifting some heavy things and hopefully the image of me curled up in a blanket with a cup of tea, bawling whenever something emotional happens in that show, will quickly dissapate. Not that that's a real image or anything.

Ok, but really, I do. Just don't tell anyone. I used to never cry during movies. For the first twenty-some-odd years of my life, the only 2 movies that I had cried for were: "The Bucket List", and "Click." Then, along came "Up." and tons of other movies that I can't even think of right now cause I'm starting to tear up just thinking about those first few minutes of "Up." Gimme a second.

Ok, thanks. I'm ready to continue.

I'm not sure what it is that makes me so emotional. That scene is just so perfect and they are so happy and then she dies and he is so sad and it's just...

Ok, no, I need another second. :'(

Ok, ready. Maybe.

Anyway, let's leave "Up" behind lest I start crying again. Onto: "How I Met Your Mother." That show is amazing. I swear this isn't a shameless plug that I'm getting paid for; it's really just amazing. The humor is amazing, and ridiculous, and that was the reason that I started watching it, but soon I found myself crying and I didn't know why. And I kept watching.

It's weird, because even though these characters aren't real, I still love them. Probably more than most actual people I know, but like I said, they don't exist. I mean, I'm sure I could find some people who are extremely similar to the characters on the show, but these characters aren't simply words being personified by actors on a screen, they are archetypes.

I cry for them because each of these archetypes contains a part of me, and I can relate to them so well. I see myself in their situations and empathize with them. The situations that they are put in, though exaggerated, are just like situations from my own life. A little too exact sometimes. It's creepy.

I guess, in the end, when I'm crying for them, I'm really crying for me.

Being in Love. With everyone.

When I love someone:

I don't sigh at them.
I don't laugh at them.
I don't talk bad about them.
I don't ignore them.
I don't harm them.
I don't cheat on them.
I don't steal from them.
I don't lie to them.
I don't agitate them.
I don't disrespect their desires.
I don't let my annoyances surface.

I would be patient with them.
I would get up at 3am and pick them up if they needed a ride.
I would give them my chocolate, even if I wanted it.
I would listen to their ideas and problems.
I would help them do work they can't do, even if I don't want to.
I would cry with them.
I would do anything in my power to make them happy.
I would do the dishes every morning for them.
I would drop anything I was doing to be with them.
I would lend them my favorite expensive bike.

I don't love everyone, unfortunately.

I realized, the other day, when I treated someone sub-optimally, that I didn't treat them poorly because I disliked or hated them--it was merely because I didn't love them. I need to love everyone, even the people that are annoying, or have wronged me, and especially the people I don't ever want to see again. They don't deserve to be treated poorly. Everyone deserves to be loved.

If I am not treating someone the way that I would treat the person that I'm in love with, then I'm not treating them good enough.

The End of the world

I kind of hope the world ends on December 21. If it does, there will be so much less I have to worry about. There isn't much to look forward to right now.

A Strong Dislike

I strongly dislike using that one word in this situation. The one that means I really strongly dislike something, but is a level or two up from strongly dislike. It's not that I'm afraid to say it--I say it all the time--but I strongly dislike using it when referring to a person. I don't really think that way about anyone in particular, but I do strongly dislike people in general. Maybe I wouldn't strongly dislike people so much if they changed; I don't think it's the people I strongly dislike so much as the actions that they choose. Now that I think about it, there are some people who I used to strongly dislike that I don't anymore, because they changed.

But then there are the people who haven't changed. I strongly dislike them. The people that I strongly dislike even more than the people who haven't changed, are the people who have changed for the worse. They aren't even on the same playing field as me, but I'm forced to play with them. It's frustrating when people ignore the rules, especially when I play by them. Maybe if I break the rules I won't get penalized either. I kinda wanna go get high, and steal, and break hearts and fuck, use people for my own gain and take what I want when I want it and forgo my responsibilities. They do.

I'm sick of holding my tongue, I'm sick of being nice and doing the right thing. I'm sick of watching my actions so I'm not a hypocrite, and I'm sick of being there for people.

Nobody else holds their tongue, nobody else is nice or does the right thing, nobody else practices what they preach, nobody else is there for me.

I'm not perfect, but I do try to hold my tongue. I try to be nice and do the right thing. I do watch my actions so I'm not a hypocrite. I'm there for people more than they know,  or seem to care. If nobody considers what they do to others, there is no hope for the world. I'm not a faucet, I'm a small cup with only a dribble left to share.

I hate people.

Excuse me. Strongly dislike.

Maybe I'm just an old man jealous of other people's fortune.

Or Maybe I'm jealous of other people's ability to ignore the rules.

Maybe I need to scar my conscience to live in a society with selfish people.

Maybe I'm going to be a hermit. The more I'm around people, the more I'm  disgusted and discouraged.

Maybe I just need to find the right people. Where are you?

It's Pathetic...

...how I've become so apathetic.

Towards everything.

A bummer, really. I need to find passion again. It got crushed and I lost it.

I don't know where to find it anymore--it's not really something I can just go pick up at the store.

I don't even seem to care that I lost it.

Sleep

I love  sleeping. Sleeping feels so good. When I'm tired, and I get to the end of the day, barely pushing on, sometimes I'll take a nap before I go to sleep. I'll take a nap in the morning, in between classes, on the bus to school, at work in the car driving to a job, in class, in the afternoons. The body doesn't function well on not a lot of sleep--it's so necessary.

There have been studies done wherein the subjects were sleep deprived. These people's bodies began to break down much quicker, and they became extremely violent, moody, and in some cases they developed insanity and other mental illnesses.Often I feel like I'm not getting enough sleep. It's nobody's fault but my own of course. Maybe I'm driving myself to insanity.

But getting to a bed after a long day is amazing. You can just fall on the bed, knowing that  it's over and you don't have to stay awake anymore; you can just succumb to the sleep. Of course, sometimes I sleep not because of physical  exhaustion but  emotional exhaustion. I'm sad,  frustrated, lonely and drained, and nothing will fix  it.

Sometimes life is going so badly that I don't want to deal with anything so I sleep more. Less time awake is less time thinking. Less time thinking is less time feeling.

I think I'm going to sleep right  now.

Sleep is my escape.