The Color Purple

You Scored as Violet Lantern

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The End

A series of events has caused my usual Post-Valentine's Day slump to turn into an all-out depression. One that, apparently, I'm able to hide very well at work. Unfortunately, that doesn't make the job any easier. If anything, work is now my distraction from life, replacing school which used to have that slot.

I never really talked about this much, but for a long time, I would have reoccurring dreams about school or set in a school. They were always very strange symbolic dreams. I would get lost on my way to a class or I would find that my knees would give out under the weight of the books I was carrying. The strangest yet most common one was a dream I had where I couldn't find my gym shirt only to look down and see that I suddenly had it on.

These dreams stopped once I entered college. They were replaced by that level of deep sleep that doesn't trigger the dream cycle of the brain.

Recently, a new reoccurring dream has been making itself known. Same type of dream only the setting has changed to the work place. The only common thread between the ones I can remember is that there are no customer interaction in them. They all have to do with the people I work around or under. And recently, there has been this underlying sense that I am to be stuck in the position that I find myself in.

Like I said at the beginning of this, a lot of things have happened to me that has triggered a serious depression. I can't find anyone to talk to that has the time. E-mailing people that know me very well has proven impersonal if not unimpactful. Very few people actually know me, yet it is easier for me to just lay it all out there on this blog for everyone to see. This is my default when I have no one to turn to.

The list of problems are ones that several people are already familiar with: driving, not living on my own, being single when I don't want to be, etc. In the comfort of my room, I've caught myself talking to myself and finally admitting what is going on inside my head that has prevented me to do any of those things that would help me grow as a person.

I'm afraid. I'm afraid to live life. That merman picture I did for my thesis show illustrating that has become more truthful now than it was when it was hung for the show. I can't bring myself to take risks.

I'm afraid of driving. The idea of being in control of this machine that could kill both myself and several other people scares the hell out of me. The responsibilities that come with it such as gas and insurance and being a safe driver in general make me paranoid about not living up to expectations. Even the media has affected my perception on the type of car I would drive, making me very insecure about what little self-image I have left. (Which, at this point, is my ever-complimented pony tail. Seriously, that's the only thing that gets me compliments from women who think it's the most beautiful thing they've ever seen.) Being behind the wheel of Jason's car during his last summer in town was the most difficult thing I had to do. Confronting your fear normally is. And despite all the hard work and time he sacrificed for me, I failed him because of the fact that I'm that afraid of driving. The only thing that helped me was the fact that he was there and trying to help me. Once he gave me that assignment to try and do something driving related on my own, the fear struck up louder than a marching band at half-time at a high school football game. Now that he's gone to the west coast to live his own life, I don't really have anyone to fill that role.

What about my folks? Those busy bodies whose only free time is when I'm away working at the movie theatre? Do I even need to answer that? My days off happen when they are working, and vice-versa. In fact, my mom wants to see a movie but she refuses to see it when I'm working despite the fact she can get in for free while I'm on the clock. Yet she has no problem going to have lunch at my sister's work while she (my sister) is working... when she's in town, that is. And I can't exactly request the weekends off; that's when the movie theatre needs as many people as they can get.

Speaking of which, as far as being single and hating it, I'm learning the hard way that work is not the best place to be googly-eying over every attractive guy that walks into the building. Unfortunately, I'm on the verge of making that mistake for the second time and is trying my damnest not to go there. But it just gets more and more difficult every day. I found myself struck dumb one day when a really attractive brunette walked to the Box Office and in his moderately deep voice asked for a ticket for Milk with a smile that made me melt. And there was something in his eyes that, for the first time, actually set of my gay-dar in the proper direction. But this is a no-no at work. The quickest way to get fired is to hit on the paying customers. (Actually, the quickest way to get fired is to aggressively hit on a co-worker, which is something I almost would have been charged with if I didn't work things out before it got too big for me to handle.)

There's a scene in The Wrestler where Rouke's character missed a dinner date with his daughter only to have the shit hit the fans at light speed. It ends with her saying something along the lines of that Rouke's character is broken. He's always been broken, and trying to fix things just makes it worse for everyone. She likes him being broken, and tells him with tears of anger and hate that there's nothing wrong with him being, essentially, a fuck up. In fact, she would prefer it over his efforts to reconnect with his daughter.

It's time to just come out clean. I'm not going to get anywhere in life. I'm too afraid to do the things that will help me grow. I'm unwilling to do them by myself despite the ever-growing need to do so. I'm at a point in my life where if I don't do these things now, I'll be fucked for the rest of my life. But the sad reality of the situation is I can't. Or maybe in the eyes of some, I simply won't. I need someone to hold my hand and baby me through these things no matter how long it takes, but I know that will never happen again. I had a taste of this rare gem of compassion, but other factors came into play and it was cut short for me. So is life.

I can't really live life in fear of the things so many teenagers look forward to do. I can't settle for stagnation or co-dependency in a culture that frowns on it or makes fun of it in movies and TV shows. Nor can I live with myself if I discover that my situation is now the main plot of an episode of Monk or the latest summer raunchy comedy film.

I can't live my life like this anymore. But I'm too afraid to do anything about it. All I do is complain about it to a public that doesn't appear to be listening.

I can't do this anymore. I'm not strong enough.

Hypocrite

I hate working at the movies during a big crowd, but I love watching them with a big crowd.

I hate shopping, but I love looking at store displays.

I hate chocolate, but I love sugary snacks.

I don't like heights, but I love looking over balconies at vistas.

I don't hit on straight guys, but I'm constantly attracted to them.

I don't leave the house, but I love going out with friends.

I don't have many friends, but I'm friendly to everyone I meet.

I don't know what I'm talking about right now, but chances are I actually do.

10 Years Behind

Settled in to this Sunday Morning routine
Sans my iTunes Weekly Top 40
Half-full Vault next to a copy of Spore
Fully empty Powerade bottle next to a copy of Zoo Tycoon

Able to critically think
Able to form political views
Able to budget funds appropriately
Able to know when to keep my mouth shut

No longer growing
Unable to grow
Settled for social stagnation
Looking for compassion in a seemingly careless world

Was told on the day of love that I'll find someone eventually
Rebuttaled saying that nobody would be interested in me
Confirmed later that day that I was right
Listed the reasons why

Ten years behind
Mentally sixteen
Physically twenty-six
Unable to grow

Unwilling to grow?
Scared to grow?
I need help
Slowly dying inside

Heroic music blaring yet pathetically complaining
Musing about romantic ideals that will never be
Traumatized by the past and unable to recover
Six years unable to get over

Desperate for a companion who can help me
Desperate for a hint of compassion
Desperate for understanding
Knowing full well this is an impossible ideal

I need help
Dying from a broken heart
I need help
Empty eyes wanting to cry

Faking a smile everyday
Nobody can see the pain
Nobody is allowed to
Nobody knows I'm hurting inside

I need help
Nobody cares
I need help
I can't do this alone

I need help
I need help
I need help
I need help...

Dreaming About Work

For the past several nights, I've been dreaming about work. People becoming managers, new equipment, old co-workers coming back but in a different light. But either way, I've been working too hard (which is a good thing) too often ( which is kind of a good thing, financially).

Stress? Probably.

Living in Fear of Living

I'm having that pathetic feeling again. You know, the one where no matter how much you try to lift yourself up with a happy song or knowing that you are really good at something most people aren't, you still feel rather boring? I think it has something to do with my reflection on my 20s. Here I am, halfway through with them, and nothing remotely normal has happened to me as far as living life. Sex, parties, moving out. None of that.

Why? Because I'm afraid to live. There, I said it. Living life scares me. The only thing I'm more afraid of is death, mostly because of the vain hope I cling to that my life will get better. I don't know what it is, but my biggest hang up is that I am afraid live life. I'm afraid to go out and be me. I don't know if it just because of what happened to me in the past with all the crap that clearly affected my social behavior or what.

All I know is this: There is a burning want to live again, to feel alive, to have that feeling of excitement run through my body. There's an obsession with wanting to experience the joys of the flesh and the times where things actually end up going how you hoped. But I'm too afraid to do any of that.

What am I afraid of? Getting hurt. Emotionally.

Single Too Long?

Valentine's Day is coming up, and being in the entertainment industry, I'm getting a lot of phone calls asking about movies playing that day. Strangely enough, they all involve the anti-Valinetine's-Day movie. Go figure.

During one of my breaks, a bunch of the female employees were talking about their respective boyfriends. Girl talk in the very sense of the word. When they realized that I was in the room, they apologized for... well, being girls. I told them not to worry about it. Then the conversation turned to me and if I had a girlfriend.

I didn't come out and say that I'm gay. I just told them that I haven't dated in well over six years. Okay, so I admit it was a half-lie; I've never dated at all. But it was a better answer than what I could have said.

From there the conversation went on about how that's way too long to be single. The girls are young, though, so they are living their best years of their lives right now. Or so I'm told. Still, the conversation did weigh in some introspective thoughts.

I've never been on a date. I've only gone out once, and that was kind of forced upon me by Jason. My 20's are coming up on their close rather fast. (I turn 26 this year.) And what stories do I have to tell for it? To echo the Marines commercial, if someone wrote a book about my life, would this chapter be interesting? No, probably not. I have archives dating as far back as 2002. That's close to seven years! And even if I edited it down, it would still be boring.

The highlights? Getting published in a local newspaper, having regular encounters with a celebrity at my work, and the time that I experienced the corporate devil in the fact that I was (and probably still am) getting screwed over with my pay. Going to New York, Spain, Italy for the second time, and my dark days in Seattle? Okay, maybe those could count too. But nothing really stands out as identifying or life changing in the same sense those girls were talking about in the break room.

When they asked why I haven't dated in so long, all I said was that someone broke my heart. That was probably the only honest thing I said to them in that two minute conversation that day.