Creepingly familiar

Down the street from here there is a... something. Art show, maybe. With spooky music playing for all the children wandering around downtown reno trick or treating from various shops. Sure, they are mostly with adult supervision, but still, downtown reno? Kids? Haunted houses in back alleys near a river? That river is going to be littered with broken princess crowns, tiny little butterfly wings, and pirate hats in the morning with parents searching in vain for tiny lost fairies and frankenstein monsters. Maybe its just that I dislike having to cross the street to get around crowds of people standing on the street while children run in and out of bars while the parents laugh with each other under the neon-sign lit sky that is reno at night.

I used to like halloween. I was never that great at dressing up. Now I feel like I'm in costume everywhere I go. Tonight walking through the throngs of children I took stock of my appearance. Carrying a togo container of chinese food, a satchel full of books on writing, notebooks, and a laptop, run down clothes and a look of ever increasing annoyance on my face I see myself as just a stereotype. A walking cliche of what a want to be writer who is trying to be hip and irreverent while simultaneously avoiding all human contact. Not really what I was hoping for in this life. But it will have to do for now.

On an unrelated note, I've spent a year getting the same criticism from nearly every girl I've met. If I had been dating on eBay my profile would probably be gathering replies such as "C-, Not sure what the hell he is doing. Lacking confidence. Not as funny as he thinks he is. Would not buy again." I'm starting to get slightly annoyed. Problematic for me is the fact that when I do meet that rare girl I feel I have enough of a connection to to attempt something as alien and grotesque as a date with I tend to get my hopes up. Far too up. Which of course makes even the smallest failure dwindle my mood down to a dull roar of self-pity and anger that I soon find myself far too drunk to notice.

In the past I would spend a good week wondering what I did wrong and what I could do better in the future. I have since come to terms with the sad realization that it no longer matters if I can identify exactly what I did wrong (probably shouldn't have mentioned that I blew all my money on hookers the night before and that is why I can't pay for dinner) it will be useless information, as I will continue to make the same mistake time and time again. Ben Franklin's infamous adage of how to tell insanity from sanity by "attempting the same thing again and again with different results" prances through my head. I tend to ignore it, however, and just keep carrying on. I've drank the same type of soda since I was five. Smoke the exact same brand of cigarettes everyday that I have smoked for six years. Go to the same restaurants, dress in the same clothes, write about the same things, watch the same things, read the same things. Spend time with the same people I've known for years, play the same games with them, talk about the same trivial matters time and time again. As I write this I get the sinking sensation I've written this all before. I probably have. I am a creature of pure habit. And I'm not going to change. Certainly not to appease some half-baked notions of what should happen on a first date built into the heads of any girl I've ever met. Not even if I wanted to, which admittedly sometimes I do.


Despite having been in a sour mood, especially in this past week, today finally felt like a good day. Last week I had enough endorphins in my head that I was actually engaging in small talk and joking around with random people I came into contact with. Then it all came crashing down and down, and somehow I'm back to where I like to be. Comfortably in the middle. Somewhere between jackass and gentleman. Caring and uncaring. Out of touch with anything that doesn't appeal to me and totally focused on a singular goal. A beautiful world where I exist as an outsider even to myself. I sit now in my tiny apartment and smoke and drink soda and look forward to watching the Daily Show and I can't imagine a life much more fulfilling than this ever coming to me, and I am perfectly happy with that.