Tuesday, March 30, 2010

From the Loony Bin: Part 1

I figured I should establish a kind of generic post to let folks know stuff that doesn't stick to only one topic. Thus, "From the Loony Bin" has been created.

This past weekend was rather maddening. Our friend Steve asked to spend the night...and then another night...and then yet another night. I feel for him. I often remind myself of when I had no place to call home, so I don't mind him staying every now and again. Still, three nights in a row? Such a thing only contributes to him not looking for work, as he tends to be up until 5:00 AM, resulting in him sleeping until around 2:00 PM. By then, the day is almost gone, and by the time he's awake and ready to go, it is, in fact, gone.

Add to this a somewhat infrequent visitor, Drew, who is a mere 19 years of age. He wanted to spend the night on Friday, as well. So waking up on Saturday meant finding two guests in the living room.

This wouldn't be such a big deal, except for the fact that these two have no real "inside voice." So 2:30 AM rolled around, and I told everyone in the living room that I was heading for bed. I was on the cup of actually falling asleep when there was a loud bit of laughter from Steve, followed by a loud explanation of what he thought was funny.

Well, knowing that these two clowns wouldn't go to sleep until the sun was ready to start rising, I made sure to be out in the living room and turning on the TV by 11:00, just to hopefully give them a taste of what they dish out. Amazingly, neither was annoyed. I, in turn, would have killed anyone doing such a thing.

Let's add to this the fact that our home is "Social Central." This means that when people debate on where to hang out, it's going to end up being our place and nowhere else. Again, that's nothing terrible, except that the entire crew, residents included, believe that the trash cans are entirely too far away to throw things out. Cans and cups that are almost empty end up littering the floor, and one if them will inevitably get knocked over. The rush to clean it up usually ends with a somewhat incomplete job, leaving an invisible but sticky patch of whatever it was that was spilled.

People constantly being here on the weekend left me exhausted. Come Sunday, I managed to sleep until somewhere around 4:00 PM. A sure sign that I needed rest. But my sleep schedule getting screwed up like that was bad, bad, bad. So I stayed awake, with my latest addiction "Just Cause 2" keeping me awake...until 11:00 PM last night. That's when I took a full Xanax, instead of my usual half-tablet, and headed for bed.

Mind you, I headed for bed to sleep. But I foolishly tried to sit and read a bit. With a book in my lap and the last few swallows of diet root beer in hand, I managed to start dozing sitting up. I promptly woke when the can of soda landed on my foot and spilled. I rapidly mopped that up, then laid down and officially collapsed.

All of this is the stuff that one could capture on film if necessary. What's missing is all of the stuff going on inside my scattered brain. At one point, I typed up an entire post about where I think things will go with Neko. Alas, the entire post was wandering all over the place, most assuredly a result of my being so tired. Thus, I came to no conclusions.


Meanwhile, in the update department, I still haven't heard from Stu. I called and wished him a belated "Happy New Year" on 6 January, and the stubborn jerk has chosen to make no effort to reply. This only cements my opinion that the only reason he was willing to take me in was because he wanted my money. If it was for the reason he claimed, that being that he actually cared about me, then he'd at least pick up the phone and call.

Ah, but we know how to hold a grudge in my family. When offered an olive branch, most in my family will dowse it in gasoline and set it aflame.

Dad and I talk less of late. And when we do talk, I'm the one picking up the phone.

It's this kind of thing that makes me believe that everyone in my past would much rather sweep me under a carpet and forget I was there. I've spent the last decade trying to make monumental changes in my behavior, such as learning to forgive. helping people instead of kicking them when they're down, and paying compliments instead of nonstop insults. Unfortunately, I'm starting to see that I'm the only one who's made such an effort. Everyone would rather remember the jackass I was when I was younger and stay mad at him.

And here I go, remember "good old days" that weren't always so good. I sometimes wish I could go back and relive those years, doing a great many things differently. But then that's possible for none of us.

I'm off to contemplate my existence a bit. May you all be in better shape than I am at this moment.

1 comment:

Arguskos said...

Though we rarely speak anymore, know that I'm still out here, reading and wishing well. ;)

Your folks may be punks, but I remember Rob.