Random

There are so many entries I've written over the past few weeks, thoughts that I've discarded both before, and after completion. I think it's time I actually post one though. It's time to mix some of my previous thoughts into a random mess, and see if anyone can clean it up and make sense of it all.

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A few weeks ago I walked into the bathroom, and I caught a look at something in the mirror. There was a man in it, a fairly impressive man, and I was quite shocked to find him in my bathroom, and in my mirror. His face was like mine, the shape, colour, texture, yet somehow appeared different. He had my eyes, my hair, my smile, but he didn't look like me, not as I see myself anyway. He seemed smart, though he never spoke. He seemed strong, without having to move. His eyes held a confidence that I had a hard time comprehending. I've never seen this man before, but I think back now on some of the things people have said to me, and I begin to understand. However farfetched it may seem I think they've been mistaking me for him. I think perhaps when some of them look at me they do not see me, instead they see the man that I saw fleetingly in the bathroom mirror. Perhaps they've even spoken to him, and I was unaware. I've not seen him since that day, perhaps it was just a fleeting vision. Someday though, I intend to see that man every time I look in the mirror.

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Clubs are truly bizarre places. It's hard to put it into words, but they are unlike anywhere else in the world. If you look around at just the right moment in a club you can see everything there is of this world. You can see life, death, love, hate, passion, apathy, joy, and pain. It's a place where so many people let loose the boundaries they keep around themselves. What a bizarre place indeed for somebody like me. Depending on the occasion I can be seen dancing like a lunatic to music I wouldn't generally listen to without a gun to my head. In the breathless crowds of On Tap, I change. Nothing matters to me in those moments except feeling the beat of the music, and trying not to beat the thug who keeps stepping on my toe. I'm free there, and yet I'm not.

It's a release for me, hour upon hour of casting forth the energy that has built within me in the past week. Outside of clubs the face I preset is not my own, it is the mask I created long ago for defense, one of many. I cannot maintain my mask when the music plays though, the talentless ravings of some rap "artist" drive me to toss it aside along with my frustration. I think this is the true reason I go to clubs, because despite the effort I put into maintaining my illusions, it's nice to let them go occasionally.

Very few people have seen me in this state, only one actually, unless you count the strangers that don't realize what they are seeing. I once invited somebody else to see this side of myself, I'm still not sure why I did it, but I felt the need to do so. Unfortunately no masks were removed, but I felt as if another was being forced upon me. Thankfully that is in the past now. Perhaps another will meet the Dancing Fool eventually.

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I've come to the conclusion that it's my purpose in existence to worry. There is not one person close to me that hasn't made me worry almost to the point of grey hair at least a half dozen times. Between drugs, depression, melodrama, and pointless stupidity I'd often like to throttle a large number of my friends. Some have had problems learning from their mistakes, or continue to do things despite knowing where they will lead. Some have fallen into a dark abyss they cannot get out of, yet for some reason they refuse to reach out of that darkness to grasp a hand that might pull them through. Some have become so uncertain of themselves, and the world around them that they strive for nothing but attention, thinking that even negative attention is a form of validation. You can't help but worry about people like these, especially when you care about them. I think another hair just turned grey *sigh*

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Recently a friend of mine suggested I apply for a promotion at work. I'm grossly under qualified as far as I'm concerned, so I didn't submit my application. When I spoke of it later with a friend she said something that really shocked me; "I believe in you." Wow.....that came out of left field. Despite the progress I've made over the past few years I still tend to worry about my friends' opinions of me. No matter what they say I tend to doubt them, thinking they are only trying to save my feelings, or they are just making it up to make me feel good. That was not the case this time though. Something in the way she said it shot right through me, and I actually believed her. Don't get me wrong, I still knew I was unqualified, but I actually believed she was being sincere. I was fairly chocked up, and glad she didn't notice that. It's amazing the effect a little sincerity can have on a person, more people should try it.

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Random acts of immaturity. This is a concept I came up with myself, and which I strongly suggest everyone embrace. People seem to take life far to seriously, they treat work, school, bills, and money as if they were the purpose of living. I'm going to tell all my readers a secret, the Ultimate secret, the meaning of life. It's an incredibly complex thing, but I'll dumb it down incase any Americans are reading this. The meaning of life, is Fun. You are working to live, not living to work. So here is my suggestion. Whenever the stresses involved in life start to get you down, fight back with something purely fun. When you were young you knew how to live for living, and it's something you should never have allowed yourself to forget. When the darkness encroaches, and you don't know what to do, be a child. Go skipping, sing a silly song, waste money on a trinket that serves no purpose. Fight back against old age, by throwing youth in its face. Have a freezie, buy a Pikachu, dance with your eyes closed on a bus. Be young.

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Well, I hope you enjoyed this little trip into insanity. I know I did! What do you think Pikachu?

Pi pika chu!

Thanks kiddo, and cya round puppies.

James