5:14 a.m. - 2006-12-21
Few tile
So I'm watching the U.S. Open Scrabble championship on ESPN the other night and thinking that I must have finally gone the last bit of crazy. Who knew that two geeks playing a board game at 4:00AM could be so pathetic? Well, probably most of the English speaking world who has ever endured a game of Scrabble. It's arguably the only "sport" where the better you get at it, the worse you look.
Regardless of the spectacle (and they were both wearing them, by the way,0) I realized that it wasn't the event that was pointless, but rather my witnessing it that was. I've consigned a whole bunch of my life to ephemera, the majority of it know that I think on it. And I'm sick of it. Again.
I talk of bettering myself (school) or finding a career (writing) or accepting myself the way I am (therapy), no that's not really true either. I don't speak a word of it to anybody. If I did then it would be real and some of it might possibly happen and then it could conceivably go away and then I would be devastated. Which is a horrendous rationalization when written out loud (you know what I mean). Why must I continue to learn the same old thing for what seems like the first time? When is enough enough? I'll have to let you know on that last one. Or maybe I won't, perhaps this diary is one of the things that should necessarily become a part of my past in order to ensure that I have a future.
I know one thing for sure, if I don't get started soon I'll continue to slowly fade away...
