hopelessly hoping

Thursday, November 30, 2000
@ home | 2350 hrs

Okay. So. Once again I’ve been reminded how immensely boring a person I am. I mean it. I know I’ve said this before, but it seems I forget that fact. I fail to remember when meeting new people (or losing old friends) why it’s such a turn-off for them–I’m boring, uninteresting, get a thesaurus. “I have failed because you have failed…”

Met up with Erin down at High Life, a coffeeshop on Seventh Street here in Austin, around seven o’clock tonight, and while I sat there listening to her and Annie tell stories I could not think of one decent thing to say. “Yeah, I knew this guy in the Navy who went UA, hopped up on speed and drove through, like, twenty-eight states in two weeks. Oh, and he also used to drive from Mississippi to San Marcos, Texas, to buy acid. He said they had good stuff.” I said that. Yeah, so. Now you see where I’m coming from.

I really don’t mean to be too hard on myself, but I just felt (feel) like a complete idiot for stuff like that–not so much what I said (okay, well, yeah, that too) but the fact that I couldn’t think of anything better to say. Maybe it’s that future PoliSci major in me: dry, unengaging, whatever. I’d like to think I have good things to say deep down inside, but… I wonder.

Lets look at my life (am I sheltered?):

  • a: Air Force Brat. Did a bit of moving while growing up. Spent quite a lot of time, for me, at Keesler AFB, Biloxi, Mississippi, though.
  • b: I think I became obsessive-compulsive (undiagnosed) in my late middle school/early high school years (all while living in Alabama, no wonder). I broke those “habits” a while back, though.
  • c: Got married while eighteen and in the Air Force.
  • d: Led low-level revolt (intentional course wash-outs [dereliction of duty] to be reclassified into different jobs, “faking” mental illness (adjustment disorder with depressed mood) to obtain entry-level separations, etc) in training squadron at Keesler AFB (again).
  • e: Got divorced at nineteen.
  • f: This one isn’t really all that different (or interesting, although at the time I bombarded friends with nightly emails updating them on the happenings). Spent last summer wasting (getting wasted, etc) with a British friend and others. Usual college-age kid stuff.
  • g: Doing the therapy thing for severe depression.

Obviously a person can’t be completely summed up in a short list like that, but those are, I think, the things I most often fall back on in conversations with other people–whether they know me well or not. I suppose I could see how these all appear rather uninteresting to outsiders, but to me… man, I don’t know. These are some of the big things in my past. Kind of like those Vietnam veterans (like Tim O’Brien) who come back from the war and talking about their experiences is really all they do for the next forty years of their lives. Well, maybe not ALL they do, but they use it as a touchstone, a turning point in their lives about which they can speak with some authority. Hm. I don’t know.

The sad thing is that I’m not even depressed today (understanding that it all really is relative to my worst days) and I still feel like this, I’ve still noticed this.

I don’t know. Sucks. Maybe I’m wrong.

Hey, I know this entry really sucks, okay? I know it’s really shitty of me to post something this horribly against myself after such a long silence, but… I had to.

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