Nobody Home

December 20, 2008

I’ve got [300 and] 13 channels of shit on the Tv to choose from (to choose from… to choose from).

I’ve got a feeling I haven’t had in quite some time. Since about July… Boredom.

Not overwhelmed by work for the first time since August. Nobody’s around to do something fun (or even online to talk to). I’m not hungry. TV totally sucks. And I reached the end of the internet (well, all the parts interesting to me anyway. I haven’t delved into the seedy underworld of deviant pornography).

I’ve got mediocre football teams playing mediocre bowl games (actually, that just ended). Uninteresting football. Uninteresting basketball. Worthless NBA. No hockey. Bad movies (Wizard of Oz was on earlier, I thought about cuing up Dark Side of the Moon with it, since I’ve only done it once — I’m not a pothead — but I came in late, and with commercials, it’s too hard to sync).

My laundry and dishes are even done. Oh, and I’ve read every book I own at least seven times. Ditto my movies.

Normally, in times like this it would be one of the ideal times for one of my every nine-months or so binges of video games. Except I am no gamer, so all my EA Sports games are from 2005 or 2006. Horribly outdated and I’m not feeling the itch.

If only I wasn’t too caffienated to sleep, I’d go to bed now.

This is weird. I’m normally not “not-busy” enough to be bored until the summer. And that’s why God gave us the gift of baseball. I suppose I should be productive and work ahead… but that will just lead to future boredom. So I’m just going to ramble on about my boredom.


Run, Rabbit, Run

November 1, 2008

I think I’m having a midlife crisis. This is quite scary for multiple reasons. Number one, all the things that lead to/or are realized within a midlife crisis, and number two, the fact that at 30 and a half, this might mean I’m only living to the age of 61.

The reason for my midlife crisis, is that I’ve been listening to Dark Side of the Moon way too much this past week. Specifically, in Time. This line hit home:

And then one day you find
Ten years have gone behind you
No one told you when to run
You missed the starting gun

I understand the point of the song Time. It’s about the fact that you’re not preparing for life ahead. Living has already started, and if you spend all your time waiting for the next thing, you’re going to miss what’s going on in the present. I’ve never really had any problems with that. I’ve learned to enjoy the journey. I’m in my business not because I want to go somewhere with it, but because I get enjoyment out of doing what I’m doing now.

But the midlife crisis part is that basically, if you asked me where I’d be in 10 years, I’d say “probably at some college, being an SID, working with basketball, wishing I had more time to spend with my wife and family. Maybe I’ll have cranked out that book I’ve always wanted to write but never had anything good enough.”

The scary thing, is that I’m entering my ninth year as an SID. Which means my answer to that question is exactly the same as it would have been if you had asked me in the spring semester of my senior year in college.

Two of the people sitting in my office, one a college kid, one an adult, were discussion their upcoming dates (while I had Dark Side playing on my WinAmp, mind you), and another college kid was offering suggestions to both, from her experience in her current relationship. And it reminded me of an anecdote:

I was at a coworker’s housewarming party. She and her friend bought a house, in a not-so-nice area. There was a halfway house a few blocks away. They had this porch on front, which was a nice feature, but it was kind of worn down and had stuff growing underneath it.

At the party, they tell us this story: They come home from doing a little Target house-outfitting shopping, and they hear some animal or something under the porch. They go inside and immediately discuss putting up that white criss-crossed wooden fencing crap so no animals can get under there, because it’s really creepy to have animals under your house.

Then the doorbell rings. And it’s a goth looking girl, early 20s, who says “Hi, I am looking for my boyfriend.”

“Okay, well, I don’t know your boyfriend, but I’m sure he’s not here,” they say, kind of confused.

She replies with “Well, he’s a midget.”

They inform her that it’s just them in the house, and she kind of looks down and says “He likes small, dark spaces.”

Yeah, they get a flashlight and sure enough, the boyfriend under the porch, standing in the corner Blair Witch style.

Of course I had a comment. I said “You know what the worst part is?” and my friend yells “Yes, I know what the worst part is! It’s that even the goddamned midget is dating somebody and I’m freaking single!”

Now, I was surrounded by single people at this house-warming party, so this didn’t make me feel like I was some single loser. Hell, the moral of the story is “This chick settled for a freaking midget.” I mean, I want someone to cook and take care of me, but I don’t care how delicious the cookies are, I’m not settling for a freaking elf.

All of us single losers proceeded to get drunk, and I was drinking my death mix (32 ounces of lemon-lime Gatorade, one can of Red Bull, one liter of 100 proof vodka, mixed and divided into two Gatorade bottles) and turned into a raving lunatic. On my way out, I was yelling that the porch was now inhabited, not by a midget in the corner who dated up, but by an army of giant rabbits from England, who would destroy us all.

I have no idea what the point of all this is, but my problems don’t seem so large compared to a giant rabbit invasion.