this town is crazy, nobody cares

Didn't mean for over a week to pass by without posting, but these days, a lot of things happen whether I mean them to or not.

I'd love to spend a post telling you how funny some parts of Tropic Thunder were, and my love for RDJ persists much like a rooster illusion might (although SP gifted me a Rolling Stone in which there is an interview of RDJ that is so over-the-top in its adulation that I have a feeling the 15-year old version of me might have written it). I'd also love to tell you about my first (and definitely only) outing to the State Fair and the great joys of eating artificially colored spun sugar. I'd even more love to tell you of Vicky Christina Barcelona, which was not a great movie, but did something I thought would never happen- made me cheer for Penelope Cruz in a movie. She was so good in it, I was thoroughly befuddled. This cannot have been the same person who appeared in a crapfest with Tom Cruise. Also, if Javier Bardem and RDJ appeared in a movie together, I think I would turn into a puddle of goo. And then watch the movie 5 times.

Anyway. But I can't tell you any of that really. Even though I just did. I'm writing at the moment because I just need to write something. I am frustrated. I am a tiny bit frustrated with school, but I am more frustrated with myself. I am frustrated with my inabilities, and those inabilities don't have much to do with school.

So there's this horrible thing that happened to my very good friend. And I took it very personally, almost as though it had happened to me. And then I took it more personally because it quickly became clear that my friend had virtually no one else to turn to. And then.

And then this is the part where I fall short. And I don't know what to do with myself, or with him. I know he needs help. I know he refuses to get help. I know that, instead of getting help, he is spinning his wheels by fixating on the wrong things. And most of all, I know, and I know because I am getting that panicky feeling, I know he is latching on to me for dear life.

I've used the analogy before, but it still applies. He's drowning. But he knows how to swim. I'm not that great a swimmer myself. I am tired too. I've been trying to tread water beside him, telling him that he knows how to swim, telling him to stay afloat. But now we're getting to the ugly part. The part, when you're too tired to keep on going, and you start to drown. The panic settles in and reflexive, gut instinct kicks in and you grab hold of the person who's been trying to help you. You think they're strong enough, that they are so much stronger than you that they can stay afloat while buoying you as well.

But I'm not that strong, not that much stronger. And now I'm drinking water. And then this is the part where I fall short, because I don't drown, don't go down with this ship. Gut kicks in and I am on the verge of breaking free.

At which point, all I'll be is alone, treading water in a vast and endless sea.