*Feel free to move this if it's in the wrong place. I wasn't sure where to post it.*
I hate holidays. I imagine most of us do. I don't like them for several reasons; They mess up my all important routine. I feel lonelier on holidays, even when I am with people. I get nostalgic for "the good old days". Lastly, I think they're just pointless.
Today was no different. For my non-American friends who may not know, the 4th of July is an American holiday, our Independence Day. It's supposed to be a celebration of the signing of the Declaration of Independence which freed us from the tyrannical oppression of our English overlords, lead by King George. That's what they used to teach in schools anyway. The real story why we became Independent is much different. But none of that crap matters anyway.
The 4th, like all holidays, is nothing more than an excuse to have a day off from work so you can party, get drunk, eat too much, and hang around a bunch of people you may or may not like. That's all well and good for most people. Now I have no problem with any of that stuff. However, for a social misfit like me, it's hell.
My brother invited to go to his friend's party. These are people I grew up around, but haven't had much to do with in the past ten years. I'm 50/50 at best in social situations these days. Sometimes, when I'm around people I know well enough, I do enjoy myself and put on a good enough show for the people. Othertimes, around people I don't know so well, my social awkwardness is on full display and I'm simply miserable. The last time I was with this particular group, I was in social failure mode. Awkward questions and more awkward answers abounded. I was just counting down the time before I could leave without offending anybody.
Not wanting to go through that again, and not wanting to offend anyone with a flat out refusal (I never wish to offend anyone for some stupid reason) I made up a lame excuse about working a 'catering job' to get out of going. Of course, living with an overbearing other who might relay the false tale to my brother, that meant I did indeed have to find somewhere to go for a few hours to keep up the charade.
So I set off to kill a few hours. This is much easier to do on non-holidays where one can kill much time at the library. After driving around aimlessly for a bit I ended up at some bookstore. I killed about two hours there reading a collection of mediocre short stories about eldritch horrors from other dimensions breaking through the dimensional barrier and entering our little, lowly realm. Chaos and madness were frequent, but it was all rather blah. For nearly every story I read ends in chaos and madness, or at the very least, death and dismemberment, of some sort. Even that gets old after a while.
Still, as I walked outside of the dark, quiet bookstore into a pleasant sunny day that felt more May than July, I couldn't help but be disappointed that no otherworldly monstrosities had crossed the dimensional plane to bring chaos and madness to our puny little planet. That would surely shake things up a bit. Alas, there wasn't much time for thinking happy thoughts at the moment. I still had a few more hours to kill.
Another aimless drive ensued. I ended up at some high school track. My first plan was to run a mile. I could do it in under 7 minutes when I was younger. Now I'm old and a smoker of over 8 years, so the running part of my track expedition didn't last very long
I continued to walk for a bit before that got tiresome.
Back to the car, and back to more aimless driving. I just listened to the radio without a destination in sight. Eventually I ended up at a mall sort of place. I aimlessly browsed in a few stores for a while before remembering something I had in my car.
That something is my quoits. They're like horseshoes only round. I went to the park to set the poles up and figured I'd throw for about a half hour before finally heading home, with the time elapsed now being of sufficient length for a fictional catering job. While about to set up my quoit poles I realized, in true sad sack fashion, that I had no hammer. With the ground being hard, I could not beat the poles into the ground without a hammer.
Dejected that even this plan had gone wrong, I set off to nowhere in particular.... once again. I ended up at the grocery store this time since there were a few things I would have to pick up sooner or later. I got my items and went in line. I happened to end up in the line with this totally hot cashier. *Sigh* If only I were younger, more attractive, or had just an ounce of self confidence.... Standing in line I was trying to at least think of something clever to say, but cleverness never comes to me when I need it. Anyway, she seemed to be having a very bad day, grumbling to the point that the woman in front of me kept shaking her head in disapproval whenever the cashier looked down or away from her. I paid for my items and left.
I finally got home, came up with some lame details of my fictitious catering trip to tell the person I live with. While eating (If one good thing happened today it's the fact that I did eat well), a wave of sadness came over me. I thought of a happier past, as I often do in times like these. I thought of what I could or should have done. I thought of how things could have turned out differently if I had made different choices, or even if I had not been such a total loser/nutcase. Then I thought of my present situation. I thought of the futility of life and the emptiness I always feel inside, the emptiness that is amplified at holidays. I tried to think of the future but I have never been good at prophesizing things to come. Can I go through ten more years of living like this? Five? Even one? I don't know. I don't have any answers. Maybe I will. Maybe I won't. I just don't know.
I hate holidays. I imagine most of us do. I don't like them for several reasons; They mess up my all important routine. I feel lonelier on holidays, even when I am with people. I get nostalgic for "the good old days". Lastly, I think they're just pointless.
Today was no different. For my non-American friends who may not know, the 4th of July is an American holiday, our Independence Day. It's supposed to be a celebration of the signing of the Declaration of Independence which freed us from the tyrannical oppression of our English overlords, lead by King George. That's what they used to teach in schools anyway. The real story why we became Independent is much different. But none of that crap matters anyway.
The 4th, like all holidays, is nothing more than an excuse to have a day off from work so you can party, get drunk, eat too much, and hang around a bunch of people you may or may not like. That's all well and good for most people. Now I have no problem with any of that stuff. However, for a social misfit like me, it's hell.
My brother invited to go to his friend's party. These are people I grew up around, but haven't had much to do with in the past ten years. I'm 50/50 at best in social situations these days. Sometimes, when I'm around people I know well enough, I do enjoy myself and put on a good enough show for the people. Othertimes, around people I don't know so well, my social awkwardness is on full display and I'm simply miserable. The last time I was with this particular group, I was in social failure mode. Awkward questions and more awkward answers abounded. I was just counting down the time before I could leave without offending anybody.
Not wanting to go through that again, and not wanting to offend anyone with a flat out refusal (I never wish to offend anyone for some stupid reason) I made up a lame excuse about working a 'catering job' to get out of going. Of course, living with an overbearing other who might relay the false tale to my brother, that meant I did indeed have to find somewhere to go for a few hours to keep up the charade.
So I set off to kill a few hours. This is much easier to do on non-holidays where one can kill much time at the library. After driving around aimlessly for a bit I ended up at some bookstore. I killed about two hours there reading a collection of mediocre short stories about eldritch horrors from other dimensions breaking through the dimensional barrier and entering our little, lowly realm. Chaos and madness were frequent, but it was all rather blah. For nearly every story I read ends in chaos and madness, or at the very least, death and dismemberment, of some sort. Even that gets old after a while.
Still, as I walked outside of the dark, quiet bookstore into a pleasant sunny day that felt more May than July, I couldn't help but be disappointed that no otherworldly monstrosities had crossed the dimensional plane to bring chaos and madness to our puny little planet. That would surely shake things up a bit. Alas, there wasn't much time for thinking happy thoughts at the moment. I still had a few more hours to kill.
Another aimless drive ensued. I ended up at some high school track. My first plan was to run a mile. I could do it in under 7 minutes when I was younger. Now I'm old and a smoker of over 8 years, so the running part of my track expedition didn't last very long
I continued to walk for a bit before that got tiresome. Back to the car, and back to more aimless driving. I just listened to the radio without a destination in sight. Eventually I ended up at a mall sort of place. I aimlessly browsed in a few stores for a while before remembering something I had in my car.
That something is my quoits. They're like horseshoes only round. I went to the park to set the poles up and figured I'd throw for about a half hour before finally heading home, with the time elapsed now being of sufficient length for a fictional catering job. While about to set up my quoit poles I realized, in true sad sack fashion, that I had no hammer. With the ground being hard, I could not beat the poles into the ground without a hammer.
Dejected that even this plan had gone wrong, I set off to nowhere in particular.... once again. I ended up at the grocery store this time since there were a few things I would have to pick up sooner or later. I got my items and went in line. I happened to end up in the line with this totally hot cashier. *Sigh* If only I were younger, more attractive, or had just an ounce of self confidence.... Standing in line I was trying to at least think of something clever to say, but cleverness never comes to me when I need it. Anyway, she seemed to be having a very bad day, grumbling to the point that the woman in front of me kept shaking her head in disapproval whenever the cashier looked down or away from her. I paid for my items and left.
I finally got home, came up with some lame details of my fictitious catering trip to tell the person I live with. While eating (If one good thing happened today it's the fact that I did eat well
), a wave of sadness came over me. I thought of a happier past, as I often do in times like these. I thought of what I could or should have done. I thought of how things could have turned out differently if I had made different choices, or even if I had not been such a total loser/nutcase. Then I thought of my present situation. I thought of the futility of life and the emptiness I always feel inside, the emptiness that is amplified at holidays. I tried to think of the future but I have never been good at prophesizing things to come. Can I go through ten more years of living like this? Five? Even one? I don't know. I don't have any answers. Maybe I will. Maybe I won't. I just don't know.
