I don't believe in them. I don't. I can't.
If you believe in one, then you have to believe in the other.
For every child that's born, another is taken in a senseless accident. For every lottery winner, a loving father contracts cancer. For every likeness of Jesus on a piece of toast or in the bark of a tree, an old woman slips and falls in her tub, and dies alone.
There is no purpose. No divine intervention.
There are no miracles.
But, I wait for one. What form it might take, I don't know.
It will have to be a real doozy.
I wait, because that's all I can do. Hope is beyond me, has been beyond me for a long time, but I can wait.
Just in case. I want to be ready.
When I was in the shower, some chick left me a voicemail.
"Ellen, it's me. Call me at work when you get this."
Should I call her and tell her that she dialed the wrong number?
Does it matter that she sounded cute?
(UPDATE: I texted her that she'd dialed the wrong number earlier.)
At first, I had a typo that said proof that I'm alice. Rest assured, though, I'm not Alice. I'm Dave.
And now, it's time for me to go to bed.
It's a very weird feeling. And more than a little unsettling.
I spent all that time wondering what it would take. And now, now that it really finally seems to have happened, my mind has gone idle and stagnant without that all-encompassing question that had replaced the earlier all-encompassing question that had replaced the even earlier all-encompassing question.
There is another, lurking in the shadows of my mind, waiting to take the stage, but it might not ever have its chance.
Because what's a question with an answer?
Not much, that's what.
Q: What am I supposed to do now?
A: Nothing. There's no point.
Wow, it's late. Or early. I'm not even sure what to call it. I guess it's late because I haven't slept, but it's early because the Sun will rise soon. It's about perspective, I guess.
I knew this was going to happen. There was zero doubt in my mind. I was going to be told a lie, and I was going to believe it, and then the truth was going to crush me all over again.
What sucks extra hard is that this time, I think, I invited the lie.
It's not like I'm perfect, though. Far from it, actually.
I'm living not just one, but two lies right now. Both are lies of omission, but as I've said before, lies of omission are still lies. One is wonderful and selfless, and the other is horrible and selfless, but they're still lies.
I hate liars. So it really sucks that I'm one myself.
How do you say that which needs to be said, knowing that it will destroy?
I don't know. I just don't know. My brilliant plan is to die before I ever confess.
And the other truth? The one that would absolutely fall upon deaf ears?
Because it needs to be said?
Who says so?
Who the fuck am I?
Tonight, I won't be in my garage. Nope, I'll be on my roof.
I'll be watching the Gamma Virginids meteor shower. This is a minor shower, and it's one that I normally ignore, but last night there was a huge fireball. I didn't get to see it - I guess it was visible way North of here - but maybe tonight there'll be another one.
That would be cool, I think. I've seen small fireballs before, but never one as huge as the one last night.
I have other shit to write about than this. No, really, I do. It's all rattling around in my head. All the time. It's quite distracting, actually.
But it's almost all mean stuff, or at least critical stuff. And I don't want to write anything like that. Not right now. Maybe never. I'm trying to be a good person, here. Get over it.
I didn't watch the show last week. I gather there was some drama with a "save" and some people were happy and some people were pissed. I don't know. Like I said, I didn't watch it.
This week was Elvis songs. So, for me, this week promised to suck. There, I said it. I'm not an Elvis fan. Get over it.
Crystal: She somehow managed to find an Elvis song I'd never heard before. Boring. Minus 10 points for the guitar, and minus 805 points for the fucking backup singers. (-780 points)
Andrew: Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. It was a bad Elvis impersonation. He changed it up, but he needed to change it more. A lot more. (50 points)
Tim: Nice song. He did a good job of making it sound current and unlike an Elvis cover. I took off 10 points for the guitar. (65 points)
Lee: WTF is up with all the damn guitars? I thought this was supposed to be a singing competition. I took off 10 for the guitar, but Lee did a really good job with a well-known song. (75 points)
Aaron: A high school musical version of an Elvis classic. I wanted to beat him up and stuff him into a locker. (20 points)
Siobhan or however she spells it: Smoking hot, and a great song. The performance seemed a little night-clubby to me, until the end, when it was great. I gave 25 bonus points for being so hot, then I took 15 of those points away for the damn nose ring. I think she should stop singing and move into the porn industry. (68 points)
Mike: Not even close to my favorite song. This guy is an amazing singer, though. I took off 10 points for the damn guitar, and 5 points for the stupid song choice. Other than those two things, I found no problems whatsoever. (85 points)
Katie: Another song I never heard before. The singing was good. The voice very forgettable. The horn section was waaaaaaaaaaay too loud. (60 points)
Casey: Zzzzzzzzzzzz. I don't care. I really don't. (50 points)
People change. They can change and sometimes they do change.
I'm living proof of this. HatGirl is another example.
And this wouldn't even be that much of a change. Just a stripping of some bullshit veneer.
It could happen.
Great, now I have stupid hope again.
For years, I'd thought about doing something here for April Fools Day.
Disclaimer: I don't know if it's supposed to be April Fools Day or April Fools' Day or April Fool's Day. A google search reveals all three variants. I'm just going to use the first choice because it's easier.
Anyway, I'd wanted to do a hoax or a prank for a long time. The problem was that, every year, I wouldn't remember that I wanted to do something until around 10:00 PM on April 1st. And by then it was pretty much too late. Well, this year, I remembered around noon on March 31st, so this year, it was on.
It took me a while to decided exactly what to do, though. I wanted it to be something at least halfway believable - something that, if it happened any other day, would solicit some surprise and maybe some shock, but not too much disbelief. I also wanted it to be something good or at least neutral. Like, I didn't want to announce to the world that I had some terminal disease, or that I was moving to Alaska. Those things might have upset some people.
Full disclosure: I actually did consider the Alaska story for quite a while. But I decided against it because there are a couple of people who might have been upset at the thought of me moving so far away.
I told my sisters to ignore anything I posted on April 1st, and then later I told HatGirl the same thing. I felt that HatGirl would make a good co-conspirator, no matter what I ended up choosing for my hoax.
It wasn't until I got home Wednesday night that I decided what I'd be doing. Actually, it was StupidGirl's idea. I'd propose to her, then fly to Las Vegas Thursday morning and we'd get married. Because of her involvement, the entire hoax moved to where it was mostly on facebook, and only on barenada.com as overspray. StupidGirl played along fantastically. She added her own posts to facebook to complement my own. She even found a copy of a Nevada wedding certificate that I could Photoshop and post.
HatGirl added to the hoax as well, by posting how excited she was for us. And then several others unwittingly joined in the fun by believing that it was all real.
It was the perfect choice. It was something that people could actually imagine me doing. Hell, it was something that I could imagine me doing. We had so much fun with it that StupidGirl and I were both actually sad when our fake marriage ended.
I'm already trying to think of something to do for next year. So far, I've got nothing, but there's still plenty of time. It's been suggested that I should come out of the closet on April 1st, 2011, but I would never do that for fear of all the cries of "I knew it all along!"
Metaphors, similes, analogies. I use them all the time, when I feel like writing here. Part of me just likes to use them. They make me think I'm being a better writer. But another part of me realizes the truth.
I hide behind these constructs. I hide behind them because to do otherwise, like maybe to tell the fucking truth, would be too much.
Too much for me, I mean. You readers are a hardy bunch. And a very patient one.
It was so much easier for me to write about a gorilla, than it was to write that I was in love. It was so much easier to write about a line that we carried with us, than it was to write about how incredibly difficult it was for me to be so close but so far, all the damn time.
It's so much easier for me, right now, to write about this burned bridge, about how the rubble stretches away in front of me, than it is to write that, that, that...
That the love of my life is no longer the love of my life? That the last six years of my life was for nothing? That the only chance that I have of my life ever seeming worth living is if I never see her or hear from her again? That this is a decision that I've had to make, and a realization that I've had to have, because I've been the only one in a position to do either?
That I was wrong about her. About us?
Fuck that. The light of truth is too bright, sometimes.
That damn bridge. It was shaken and twisted and rocked and rolled, and it got weaker and weaker and weaker and weaker. But it was still there. It fucking stood for something. Something important. Hope, I suppose.
But the final piece of the final beam finally broke, and the entire damn thing collapsed.
And I stand here in shock. I just can't believe that's it's gone. That beautiful destination will forever be unreachable, and maybe, just maybe, it's turned out to be not so beautiful after all.
I'm in a weird mood tonight.