I shouldn't stay up this late because I am easily distracted at this time - easily distracted by things like facebook, which inevitably reminds me of what I am missing.
So I decided to go to the beach. At midnight. With 50 degree temps. Alone. I figured it would be a good change of environment. I don't necessarily need to be alone because when I am home, I am alone. I just got sick of the four corners of my apartment and decided that a stroll along the beach would be therapeutic. In reality, it wasn't very therapeutic.
The drive to the beach was relaxing though. Nobody was on the road at midnight and I could drive on forever. In fact, the thought crossed my mind to drive all the way upstate. But my sensible half got the better of me and I decided to stick to my plan and just head to the beach.
By the time I get to the beach, pretty much everything there had closed down and it was pitch black, save for some street lights lining the beach. So I walk along the shore, thinking this is sort of cool. It was as if I was realizing a romanticized vision of myself. That didn't last long though.
I must have walked into doggy poo poo territory because the area I was in smelled...like crap. In fact there were signs posted all over the place, warning dog owners to pick up their dog's poo. I must have lucked out since I didn't step in any poo. Not only did the beach stink, there were plenty of...suspicious people hanging out in the parking lots around the beach, exchanging "pleasantries." I wouldn't recommend a girl to come to the beach alone at such a late hour.
Anyways, I figured I drove out here and I'm going to make my effort pay off. Screw the cold weather, the dog poop and the thugs. I strolled along the beach for about an hour before my sensible half got a hold of me again at around 2 AM and forced me back home.
Although the fantasy of strolling down a beautiful beach has been pierced, I don't regret going out there. It definitely was a change in environment and gave me something to write about.
If I had written this yesterday (or more precisely, at 2:30 AM this morning), I most likely would have written a melodramatic diatribe. But now...not so much. Therefore, this post will serve as a reminder of my state of self last night. I really don't know how I feel at this moment so here's a bunny with a pancake on its head.
I just wanted to clarify something. No disrespect to Emmy Rossum when I only mentioned that she is hot. She is more than just hot - she is smart, beautiful, and talented. Plus based on some her comments to her fan mail on her website, she seems like a genuinely down to earth person who likes to be silly sometimes and other times would just like to veg out on the couch for a good movie.
So yea, more than just "hot." Much much more. =)
Ok, so maybe not my muse. That may be a little too far a stretch since Emmy Rossum, although a fine actress and singer, is not on the same level as a Meryl Streep. However, I did rediscover why I liked Rossum in the first place. She's hot! Check out her music video HERE. And no, I am not a shill for Universal Studios. I just found her interpretation of Christine in Phantom of the Opera to be intoxicating.
On a slightly different artistic note, I'm also consumed by two songs at the moment - 1973 by James Blunt and Yesterday by The Beatles. Dunno why. Have a listen for yourself if you have the time.
The one person I've been talking to recently about my troubles has incidentally run into some personal troubles herself. Oddly enough, we found out that the both of us listen to foreign music when upset.
However, unlike my friend who listens to foreign tunes to get away from how she feels (because she can't understand what the song is about) I listen to foreign tunes for their depressing tune. I also listen to good'ol English tunes for their depressing message. It's really strange, when depressed, I listen to depressing songs and for some reason, a part of me likes it that the songs put me in an even more depressed mood. There has got to be a word for that.
On a slightly brighter note, I typically work out a lot when consumed in thought. Working out helps put a stop to all my thoughts. I typically don't think when physically drained.
Also, as was mentioned in an earlier post, a part of me relishes the fact that some people may be reading into my thoughts. However, I doubt that's the case anymore since anyone who even knew about this place probably doesn't care enough anymore. So that part of me that relishes the thought that someone else out there knows how I feel is probably feeling quite depressed. At the same time, a different part of me is relieved that now I have the place all to myself.
If you've read this far, you've most likely come to the conclusion that I am indeed a very convoluted individual. Convoluted may be too nice a word but hey...deal with it.
It looks as if I've done more harm than good. I was confused, angered, and hurt. I don't really know where I went wrong but somewhere along this twisting road of life, I lost a friend. Can just wanting to be someone's friend hurt so much?
It's sort of like reaching the end of a good drama. You purposely try to slow down, watch the last episode over and over, just to postpone the inevitable. But eventually, it has to end.
