Tuesday, February 14, 2006

The obligatory "I'm gonna die alone" Day post.


The only good things about Valentine's Day? An excuse to pink-ify my wardrobe for the day, My mom sending me an awesome tee-shirt (which is a relatively new tradition but totally my favorite, last year the shirt had a map of the Czech Republic and said Czech Yourself...awesome), and Febuary 15th when Duane Reade puts all the candy on sale and I get a bag of Conversation Hearts for 50 cents (I know they taste like chalk, but they taste like delicious chalk so shut up).

Other than that, It really just makes me sad. It shouldn't because it really should be a celebration of everyone I love: Family, Friends, Hot Celebrities but I celebrate these people everyday. I shower these people with love and affection all the time, so when Febuary 14th rolls around I just am forced to realize the hole in my life that has been created by Hallmark. Had I not been told to share this day with the one, I wouldn't even notice he wasn't here.

And so far today I've seen three flower deliveries come in and its my job to say, "Hey you have a delivery from someone who loves you. Lucky you. Go die." or something to that affect. They get happy, I get depressed because I have never had flowers sent to me. Ever. Except once for my 16th birthday by my godmother. Thanks Annie.

And I KNOW this makes me totally lame in that whole fish-bicycle mindset that I say I ascribe to but, its true. I'm sad that I'm all alone and while I joke about it a lot, my greatest fear is that I will always be all alone. I mean, duh, I will always have my friends and family and celebrity-imaginary boyfriends, but I know that that isn't quite enough to live a completely fufilled life. How can you possibly live a whole life without having at least one.great.love.?

Courtney discussed the idea of potential being the best part of single life. The fact that any time you walk into a new room, new situation, new moment you could meet that person who compliments you so perfectly. However, I feel that I've walked into so many new rooms and met so many new faces, that there couldn't possibly be anymore that are any different from the ones I've already met. But Courtney's glass is always half full to my half empty.

And sometimes I meet people who I think could possibly be that one, even for a little while and 99% of the time they want nothing to do with me, so once again I reaffirm the idea that some people are just meant to be alone forever and what if that includes me?

That stupid fucking John Mayer song came on my ipod this morning on the train and I know it makes me a loser, but I totally love it.

So tired of being alone
So hurry up and get here


...Seriously.

1 comment:

that mckim girl said...

Thanks for the blog shout out.

I also love the Dar Williams counterpart to that song: I'll Miss You Til I Meet You.

"I tried again, I went last night
Another date was just not right
And as I drove my self back home
A little voice said: 'just be alone'.
But some times I think
I see you in a crowd.
It's not picture perfect-
You're just meant for me somehow.

And I'll miss you till I meet you.
Yeah, I'll miss you till I meet you.
Oh. I miss you all the time.

I love the world just as it is,
And I won't lose my faith in it.
But there are days I think of you
Saying "Hey, that's beautiful,
Yeah, I see it too".
It all goes by so fast, like waving hands
You want to capture things,
Find some one who understands.

And I'll miss you till I meet you.
Yeah, I'll miss you till I meet you.
Oh, I miss you all the time.

Can you keep me awake?
I thought you could help
Just to feel my way,
Find my better self.

I'll miss you
I'll miss you
I miss you all the time

The morning's gone, all dreamed away,
But that's all right, it's Saturday,
When people think that they might see
The next chapter, their destiny.
And when Monday morning comes around
I'll get the work done, but I'll listen for the sound.

And I'll miss you till I meet you.
Oh, I'll miss you till I meet you.
Oh, I miss you all the time...

She's pint-sized and amazing.