...my true love gave to me,

Three designated drivers,

Two cute pairs of glasses,

And a yummy pint of Guinness.

Anyway, there's either misdirected and probably unwarranted anger, or there's preemptive depression.

And that's it. Those are the choices that this lump of crap I keep between my ears, those are the choices that it's been presenting me with for the past week.

Well, I don't like either choice very much. I dislike those choices so much that, for the past few days, I've felt myself beginning to shut down. To keep from having to make that choice, I've begun to sever every emotional circuit within me. I don't like that very much either. In fact, shutting down sucks.

So, out of desperation, I'm inventing a third choice.

Instead of getting angry, and instead of getting sad, I will get even.

Never mind that there's nothing to exact revenge for. Not just yet anyway. Why should I let a small technicality like that stop me?

This is my sanity I'm trying to save here.

Muhaha.

...my true love gave to me,

Two cute pairs of glasses,

And a yummy pint of Guinness.

So, rather than attempt to deal with the all of the drama that I'm already ignoring, I decided to inject even more drama into my life.

This was not the most brilliant thing I ever did.

It's necessary though.

Really.

In other news, I'm tired.

I will sleep now.

...my true love gave to me,

A yummy pint of Guinness.

...two to go.

I'm not holding my breath though. If I did things like that I'd have been dead for a long time.

Sunday night was pretty fun. Surreal, but fun.

After I'd finished vomiting words into my notebook - see the previous entry - I found myself talking to a girl that I've seen before. Both at Rich O's and there at The Pub. A girl who looks almost exactly like Ella.

A hot girl. A girl who's way out of my league. But somebody forgot to tell her that, and it somehow slipped my mind as well.

Oops.

So EllaGirl and I went over to The Hard Rock to eat. And drink. And talk. And even flirt a little. Surreal.

Let's see, I'd been planning to just have a Guinness, but CoolHairGirl informed me that they were out, so I had a Blue Moon (336). I had some chicken tenders too.

We stayed there for a couple of hours. She's a very neat girl, and I somehow managed to keep her entertained. We each had a sample of a new beer from Anheuser-Busch. I liked it enough to order a full glass.

Winter's Bourbon Cask Ale (20)

(draft) Clear bronze. A very interesting vanilla and smoke aroma. Despite the name, there wasn't even the tiniest hint of bourbon. A nice medium mouthfeel, with vanilla and light smoke in the flavor as well. Pretty fucking good. I don't care who makes it.

A friend of mine told me earlier in the evening that she needed a distraction from her distraction. I guess I needed the same thing. I guess maybe EllaGirl did too.

It was fun.

I had to get out of my house.

I was getting very close to writing something stupid.

So I left.

Now I'm sitting in The Pub in Louisville. I'm drinking a yummy Newcastle (2778), and I'm probably about to write something stupid in this notebook.

But I'm not worried. I'm miles away from my home and my computer. I've got a mandatory buffer zone between what I write and anything that I might publish.

Besides, this way I can always blame the beer.

Anyway.

In the movie Team America: World Police there's a scene that goes something like:

Person one: I didn't mean to hurt you.

Person two: I know. You just didn't care if you did.

I know exactly how person two felt. I mean, if she was real and not a puppet, and if it was real life and not a movie, well then I'd know exactly how she felt.

I can't help but think back to the cruelest words ever said to me. Not said exactly. Texted. Those eleven fucking words. Yeah, I know exactly how that puppet chick felt.

(Having a Young's Double Chocolate Stout (383) now.)

That was almost two years ago, but it set the tone for most of the relationships and non-relationships and pseudo-relationships since then.

It's weird. You'd think that deliberate cruelty would be worse. Than apathy. Than ignorance.

But it's not.

I sat at home today, and I sit at this bar right now, and I just want to scream. I want to cry. I want to wail. I want to go into a rage. I want to spontaneously burst into flames.

I want to be noticed, for better or for worse. I'm fucking sick of being irrelevant.

(Having another Newcastle (2798) now.)

I could make myself be noticed. I could become relevant. It wouldn't even be that hard. I could end the apathy and the ignorance.

It would be easy.

I'm wondering if I'm supposed to be writing something relevant. Maybe I am. Maybe that's what it would take to add the proper context to everything else. Without that context, these are just disconnected entries.

I dunno. I'm not doing it though. Not today, anyway.

Last night I was craving Red Lobster, so I went there for dinner. It was very yummy, as Red Lobster always is for me. OddlyFamiliarGirl was working and I got to talk to her for a bit.

It was really fucking crowded in Clarksville because of all the Christmas shoppers.

So I got to Rich O's just after 6:00. Way earlier than normal, but if I'd gone home after dinner I'd probably have fallen asleep. They were having a wedding reception in the Special People Section, and I had three heart attacks and a couple of strokes before I got up the nerve to look in there. I saw nobody I knew. In particular, the bride was nobody I knew, so that was a relief. Not that I should give a shit either way. And maybe I don't. But that doesn't mean I'd be able to cope with having it rubbed in my face.

I sat on the throne and had three Koningshoeven Quads (195) over the course of a couple of hours. I talked with a couple of PBDs about various stuff - mostly beer.

I switched to Diet Coke after that. And I waited. And I wondered. And I watched the door.

I noticed at one point that the place was packed, and that 90% of the people there were old women wearing red sweaters and/or red coats and/or red scarves. I talked to one of the old women. Turns out that they were all going to some concert over at IUS.

I was a little bored for a while, kicking myself a little for drinking three strong beers so early in the evening. I might have even been thinking about just going home. But then HatGirl and LuckyFucker came in.

HatGirl!

Yay!

That perked me back up. I talked with those two, and with the PBD who was still there, for the next couple of hours. I had myself a Guinness (1327).

After HatGirl and LuckyFucker left I had a Diet Coke and then I came home and glared at my phone for a while.

And now I'm in the mood to write something relevant. I need to get away from this computer before I do anything stupid like that.

I've written before, how I can take everything around me and only see the worst part of it. I've written how I can take the tiniest thing and turn it into a slap to my face.

This is a problem I have. I'm aware of it, and I watch it. I watch myself. I try to be a little less quick to judge. I try to count to ten before I react. I try to put myself in another's shoes.

Sometimes this works. Sometimes the mountains reveal themselves as molehills. Sometimes the dismissals and cold-heartedness are only in my head.

But what if they're real?

I really think that I've done everything I could reasonably be expected to do here, to salvage this. I've reached out way beyond my comfort zone. I've tried again and again. Much more often than I normally would. Multiple attempts via multiple means. And I've gotten nothing. Not even a slap in the face. Just nothing.

I don't know why I haven't given this up. I think that most people would have by now. I know that I would have, if only this had happened a couple of years ago. If it had happened before.

There's nothing left for me to try without seeming insane and obsessed. I need to give up this particular ship. Some things cannot be salvaged. But maybe, just maybe, I can stop from being pulled under myself. Maybe I can save myself.

And now, I'm going to go eat dinner.