ihavebeenfloated

I lose up to, and sometimes over, 100 plays a day due to Last.FM’s broken iPod support. I guess I should bitch more than I do, because this is about 90% of my total plays. Le melodramatic sigh. It’d just all be Jens Lekman, Pac Man, and, now, the new Beirut. You’re in our talons now.

My head hurts, which is awful. I woke up this afternoon to Matt knocking on my bedroom door. That was surreal. I think that is what gave me a headache… That or ignoring his constant phone calls prior to it.

Rilo Kiley is playing on my iPod but my fingers are busy typing instead of driving and I can’t spare the knee necessary to skip the song because it’s currently controlling the wheel. Sometimes I feel like I am praying for death.

Why does someone reasonably awesome hang out with people like the ones I do? Heh, you know the answer to that one: because you’re so far away! Don’t tell me you didn’t see that one coming from five miles out.

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For some reason I want to share all my failures with you. Usually I do, but today feels different. I realize, maybe somewhat incorrectly, that it might not be the best idea. In fact, I often wonder how you don’t suss out the fact (typed fuck on accident) that I am a terrible person based on the things I’ve told you.

Have you not realized that the things I tell you people say about me are true?

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This I sent to you, but it was fucked up, so here it is fixed:

This guy just almost got down on his knees and worshipped me after I showed him my iPod Classic and told him I have 210gb of music.

He actually, in an exasperated moment of speechlessness, said, “Gosh, you’re so cool!”

What the… It gets weirder, because we’ve talked a bit before here at school and he said he’d have to find out where I live so he can do that—and by that I mean, like Matt did, get a big portable hard drive and have me copy all my music to it for him—and I said if you google my full name you can find out where I live, and he says he doesn’t even know my name. I say I’m Brad, and he’s Chris, which I didn’t know. I tell him my last name is a bit of computer terminology, then tell him that my name is the primary/administrative account on a unix/linux box, and he didn’t know that so I left him with that hint.

Lets see if he finds me.

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Sitting in class, now. Type, type, typing away, waiting for class to start. My assignment is late, sad day, but thankfully it is the kind of assignment that occurs on a weekly basis and can easily be late without dropping a whole grade level.

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Sometimes I do feel like I’m cool. There are rare moments where I think of where I am and who I am surrounded by, friends or strangers, and I realize, genuinely, that I am cool. Sometimes the feeling says “cooler than them” but that is not terribly awesome.

I see people walking around with their heads up their asses, or some smug expression, or waxing bad-assitude and I just think: man, I am so much cooler than those people, all uptight with acting one way or another, I’m glad I’m not a fake asshole. There’s no mock attitude or emotion on my sleave, I don’t act annoyed at people for no reason, I am calm and collected because I know nothing really matters once the moment is over.

I hope I can carry this into all aspects of my life once absent aspects come around again. We’ll see, we’ll see, if Brad can stay cool under pressure.

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We sent 133 emails, combined between us, on Sept 8th. That’s our record. How impressive!

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This is what I was writing to you when Sonny decided to attack Kristie:

I don’t think I ever googled you. I can’t remember anything. I googled this girl from okc and found all this stuff about her being in an s&m relationship that went too far and wrote poetry that ended with lines like “you said the bruises were beautiful” and after that I kinda learned that I didn’t want to know that sort of thing. I told her I found it and she thanked me because she was trying to hide all traces of her life from her father, and she figured if I could find it, he could find it. Kinda weirded me out, but whatever.

I once Googled a professor so excessively I managed to find her personal AIM Screenname, I can’t really remember how. I found some odd NASA teaching forum she posted on, and found a email account which then lead to her real AOL email address, and she uses AOL, so there was her screenname. Some of these things I do out of boredom and curosity.

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My pit of self-loathing is worsening as it grows smaller. It’s as if it is condensing inside me. I am less inclined to hate myself and my
actions but when I think about the small things, the way I treat people and the words I choose when communicating with people sometimes makes me feel like a genuinely bad person. Funny, considering I have enacted a strict policy of following my “inner light”—such Quaker terminology—which guides me on what is right and wrong. It’s never wrong, I feel, because it always errs on the side of kindness unless something really can’t be done, and even then it is more about omission than lying.

I realize this entire paragraph makes no sense at all.

I know I am improving but on occasion I lose sight of who I am under the waves of new, and that makes me start to hate this version of me which is unfamiliar. How do I live now that angers who I was? I don’t know, it’s random. Telling a white lie to defuse a situation before it explodes, small things, time limits, the things I don’t say to people so I can say them later when it will have an effect in my favor, the ways that I arrange situations or, for example, I eat before I go and hang out with people and don’t ask if anyone wants anything before arrive because I don’t want to be burdened with having to get them food. The old me would have called every time, asking if anyone at all wants something. The new me knows it’s a waste of time and will only do it for
people I really care about, and unfortunately if there is someone with them I don’t care for, they get penalized by association.

The whole group goes down for one bad apple and all that. My mind works in odd ways now.

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At some point yesterday I wrote this but had to draft it and never sent it:

(in reference to a video I still have not seen because I forgot:) On my phone, will look when I get home… I wrote that whole email driving 30 in a 45 not looking at the road for about 5 minutes.

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I don’t honestly believe that I could change the track on my iPod with my knee.

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Apple/iTunes actually refunded me the money I gave them for the iPod Games I bought which I can no longer use on my iPod Classic. That is fucking awesome. I’m going to have to update my iPod post with that info. That’s fantastic. I’m touched, really, that they thought so kindly of someone like me who isn’t the best iTunes customer in the world.

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I’ve had to piss real bad for the last hour and half of class, meaning, the minute class started I had to take a radical piss and I still do. This sucks real bad. I want to get up and go pee and even though my attention is already divided, I don’t want to get up to piss and miss something important. Oh, such a conundrum!

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This email is largely unimportant and uninteresting and it takes all I can to not just copypasta it and send it to you, because I don’t see this ever ending. There is no drive in me to write about what I originally set out to write. I just don’t feel like it anymore. I feel
tranquil and happy, if bored in class, and that is all I can ask for.

So here, this mammoth post, this testament to the hopelessness of blathering endlessly, is just for you.

Tag! You’re it.

Now write me one.