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Friday, October 22, 2010

My Secret Public Journal, Entry #001: The Episode Before The Season Finale

So, at the suggestion of a friend/classmate I decided to make these journal-esk writings that don't sum up into a central theme laced with ambiguity and a cheesy song playing in the background. Instead I'll just free-write about whatever strikes me...complete with a little lacing of ambiguity...and a cheesy song playing in the background. I call it My Secret Public Journal.

Love & Waffles,
Ant

ps: don't sue me Mike Birbiglia


"Polite Dance Song" by The Bird And The Bee

Yeah...if my life were a T.V. show last night would have been the episode before the season finale. Everything went on so perfectly throughout the day, and then it hits it's peak, and then the falling action strikes. Last night was so picturesk, perfect in the worst way. Eh, I guess it could have been worse. It is a little cliche' though, that I woke up after falling out of bed, dragging my sheets with me, only to have my iPod turn on with my headphones cable wrapped around my neck, only to play "Polite Dance Song" by The Bird And The Bee, a song which if this were a T.V. show would be playing in the background as I stand in front of a plain white backdrop, recapping the events that lead me here. Wait, wouldn't that make this the beginning of the season finale? Oh...crap.

It was so weird. I was hoping that last night didn't happen, and immediately checked my phone for text messages from last night. Forget that my headphones were a swift quick move away from cutting off my air supply, or that the back of my head had just crashed into my acoustic bass and that I was bleeding (why the hell do I have that thing so close to my bed?). Nope, I had more pressing matters at hand, case in point making sure that I didn't just make myself look like an ass last night. Oh wait...I did. There they were, texts, both incoming and outgoing, in black and white, making me regret that I had said anything. All I could think was, "Really, Ant? Punch yourself..."

I think it was laying in that mess of bed sheets, potential life threatening technology, and a little bit of blood that made it that much more cliche'. Seriously God, is my life really that entertaining? I wonder how many seasons I've been on for...and if I've won a heaven Emmy. Ugh, back to the point. So here I am, writing this when I really should be cleaning up the house, wondering what the hell could be next. I mean, seriously, if last night was any indication my season finale could just be right around the corner. Eek.

I mean, I can sit here and type this up and feel ridiculous as hell about it. Why is it so fucking hard just to say, "Hi, I still care about you, you know, as more than a friend. Do you still care about me the same way? And if so, what are we gonna do about it?" That seemed a lot easier than, "I really want to tell you something, but I'm terrified." Way to sugarcoat it! Seriously Ant, punch yourself...

I'm just not sure what to do anymore. The anticipation is killing me. I think knowing would make this a whole hell of a lot easier, you know? Instead of feeling like I'm putting my life on hold. I guess I can't realistically do that anymore. So I figuratively press play, and see what happens. Season finale time! I just hope my life is more like one of those reality based shows, and not so much like Degrassi. I sure hope no one dies before the end of this season. Yeah, that would suck. :/

ps: Italicized (or however you spell it) text = me thinking out loud. Just thought I'd throw that out there ;D

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