On the surgical stage

Aside: This note will be composed of disjointed, largely unrelated but nevertheless applicable one-liners. Sorry. This is going to end up highly confessional. Really, don't read it. Sorry. /Aside

How is it that I can surround myself with people and still feel lonely? It's possible that I'm just not good at convincing myself that I'm supported.

Pretentious people are the most self-conscious and insecure.

I am probably pretentious.

I am probably not as pretentious as I seem sometimes. But maybe I am.

There's little better than being proven wrong on a bad first impression. There's little worse than being proven wrong about a good first impression. Being proven right doesn't really make me feel any more or less of anything. Except maybe cynical.

If you asked me what I looked for in a girl the first thing I would think of would be a mutant Audrey Hepburn/Jenny Lewis and the first thing I'd say would be, "I don't really know."

If you asked me again I would say, "cute, sweet, well read and listened, honest, and in possession of a good, honest laugh." What I would mean to say would be, "cuddler, handholder, lyrics-quoter, and whisperer." What I would really mean would be, "crazy about me." And I would picture sweaters and sidebangs. But those aren't really important.

I think sidebangs are so cute because foreheads are so funny looking.

I'm too picky.

When I find out that someone told me something because it's what I wanted to hear, while they told a party with a conflicting opinion that they agree with them, I get deeply hurt.

Some of the behaviors that bother me the most are behaviors I would adopt given the right circumstance. That makes me feel horrible. But I don't think it's really so bad to be jealous as long as you're honest about it.

Coupland is right. Dogs are beautiful because they never fall out of love.

People are always telling me not to worry about what others think of me-- that I'm amazing and people just don't realize it-- that I've just gotta keep truckin' or hangin' in there or-- that there's a setting and a cast of characters out there waiting for me somewhere--
That is the worst advice.

The term "breakdown" doesn't mean deconstruction or collapse into power chords and crashing cymbals. It's because life is an album and at times things unravel and move at different speeds. We tend to do a lot of screaming during those times. Whether we open our mouths or not.

But it will always always all come back together for one. last. chorus.

I talked about this last time-- but people don't want to hear the truth. And so to preserve what it seems I'm supposed to be I gotta bottle back up. This must be why I've got pores called fingertips. Pens and guitar strings. Blogs and conversations that are only ever half open.

Thinking about how much it would mean to me to be read into makes me feel narcissistic, arrogant, and pathetic.

All writers are liars.

Conceit is like skin.

But it's not the kind of lying you're thinking of. If I say, "I love you," it means I love you. But I'm lying because I didn't say, "I love you because you remind me of the midwest and how I've only been there in postcard racks."

Or assuming a persona. Maybe I don't love you-- but if I did it would be fucking beautiful.

That doesn't make any sense.

None of this makes any sense.


Bomb the blogosphere,
Mike