The HiPo Lounge

So it's like, a blog about me. And my notions about some things.

Name:
Location: Seattle, Washington, United States

I'm, like, direct.

Tuesday, October 17, 2006

I Am Always Standing On A Stoop Or Waiting At A Corner For A Boy, Or Why Veronica Mars Is The Best Show Ever.

Let's see if I can't somehow sync these two disparate concepts up, shall we?

I'm jobless, right? So when you're jobless, here's something you might like to do. You might like to do some job searching, and then you might realize that it's a beautiful day in Seattle, which almost never happens, and you might think to yourself, "Gosh, I'd sure love a field trip to the Northgate Mall with my friend Gordon in order to get him a cell phone charger on account of he left his at home over the weekend, and home is far away, like in a whole other state." You might go on said field trip. During said field trip, you might also do some fast talking and conduct some business with a recruiter from an agency, thereby netting yourself a much needed interview on Thursday, all while standing in the parking lot of the Northgate Mall, on account of you like to do things classy-like in that way. You might also opt to treat yourself to some cocktails and ping pong at your local bar, as a way of congratulating yourself on landed interview and skills at fast talking whilst in a mall parking lot.

You'd maybe then find yourself standing outside on your friend Gordon't stoop, waiting with ping pong paddles (is that how you spell it?) in hand while he's putting away his groceries ( you can't go into his apartment because he has a cat, and you are deathly allergic to cats.) And you'd think to yourself, "Why is it that I'm always standing on a stoop or waiting at a corner for a boy?" Then you'd think to yourself, naturally enough, "Why is it that I don't have a boyfriend, again? And yet, I'm always standing on a stoop or waiting at a corner for a boy. Hmm."

What you'd do, then, is you'd joke about it with your friend Gordon, and you'd tell him that you'd just come up with your next blog post, and he'd laugh about it or whatever, and you'd then go and play ping pong, and you'd make certain that Gordon would notice that your serve has improved just a little bit, but still. And then over a drink you'd ask Gordon about happiness, because all day you'd been thinking about this post your friend Mr. Lady wrote on the nature of her own happiness, and you'd consequently been wondering about your own happiness and what it entailed. So you'd ask Gordon, you'd say, "Do you think happiness totally has to come from yourself?" And Gordon, true to form, would respond in the affirmative. And you'd ponder over the hellish circumstances you'd been in, the mountains you'd climbed, the distances you'd traveled, the assholes you'd met along the way, and the fact that you're still back at square one, unemployed and floating, with nothing to speak of to anchor you at this precise moment. And you'd be pretty aware that you'd done all of it alone. Totally and completely alone. I mean, with one hell of a great support network, admittedly, but ultimately, alone, like at the end of the day.

But here's what you'd also be acutely aware of: that's it's okay that you did all of that stuff alone. And you could keep on doing it alone. And it doesn't mean that you have to cut yourself off from the rest of the world. It doesn't mean that you have to keep people out. It just means that you have to be cautious and watch where you step and shit. And you'd realize that "happy" is likely never going to fit with the person that you are, at the core. Because there are a hell of a lot more interesting adjectives that could describe you. You'd recognize, in that moment, that you're cynical, dark, sarcastic, unwavering, dedicated, resolute, smart, intuitive, loud-mouthed, risky, and a rash of other things. But the mere "happy" ain't gonna be on the list and ain't gonna suffice, anyway.

You'd then stretch that concept out to what you further believe, which is that life is all about moments. You'd go back to this epiphany you had when you were 21 years old, and your goddamn boyfriend at the time was in Korea, and called you to taunt you and tell you he was going to a riot, right about the time that a lot of people were getting killed to death in riots in Korea, and he called only because he was an abusive son of a bitch and wanted to make you worry half to death about the whole affair, but the one thing that came out of it was that you realized it was only ever about moments, this whole "life" thing, and that you could never be a "big picture" thinker, which is ironic given the fact that you just got done working a contract job for Microsoft, and they totally encourage "big picture" thinking, but you're thinking outside the box because it's the only way you know how to do things, and also you've always been a person that rocks the boat because you motherfucking can't help yourself, it's the way you were raised. (Academy Award RIGHT NOW for longest sentence ever and congrats to anyone who read it and got it on the first read, 'cause I didn't, re-reading it.)

So you'd ponder "moments" for a while, as you're prone to do, and then you'd eventually get back home and prepare yourself to watch Veronica Mars, which is the best show ever. You'd watch Veronica Mars and you'd appreciate the hell out of it, because it makes you work when you watch it. It challenges your brain and shit. And, if you're single, you'd be annoyed just a little bit by Veronica, because it's so much better when she's single and sniping at the love of her life, Logan. It's juicier. It's more complex and layered, and despite our every proclamation of "Wouldn't it be easier if . . .", we love a thing that's complex and layered, if we're smart, that is, and I think we can all agree that, well, we are. (I slipped up a little there, with tense consistency and all, but I ain't changing it.)

You'd watch and you'd then sort of be decadent with whatever blog post you were posting, and you'd try to do this tricky thing wherein you'd tie two disparate ideas into a whole, uh, thing, whatever the "thing" might be. Maybe you'd succeed, maybe you wouldn't. Bottom line is that you'd go to bed thinking, "Today was a good day for the following reasons: landed interview on Thursday; played ping pong, which is fun; sunny day out; had many humorous conversations with Gordon; going to birthday celebration tomorrow; things look okay, if tenuous at best."

You'd be struck by the idea of these moments that we have, between one another. Just in passing. Just in passing, people. But you'd be enough struck by them to be able to put them into a catalogue in your brain, to keep forever and to keep adding onto. To hopefully and skillfully stretch out into a thing that almost sorta kinda gets into the realm of happiness. So that's it. You'd go, "Okay. I'll take that. At least that's interesting, and shit. At least it functions and can sometimes have the flavor of this thing people refer to as 'happy.'" Would you be crazy to simplify/complicate it in this manner? Likely, you would. But wouldn't you be just a little bit "fun" crazy, in that exact way? You would. If you wouldn't, what would be the point of getting up every morning?

This post is totally dedicated to Mr. Lady. And Donald Barthleme (sp? I'm lazy. I'm likely totally egregiously misspelling his name.) Because I totally sound like him in this post, a little bit. And if you haven't read him you totally should. He's deranged and crazy. Like a lot of us.

4 Comments:

Blogger mr. lady said...

Ouch.

The emoting, it hurts.

I think you may be my evil twin. Are you sure your dad is really your dad? Cause I think we share a gene or two. Or maybe you just read my mind and shit.

Creepy.

1:39 AM  
Blogger Alison said...

Prizes for me. I got the longest sentence in the world on the first read.

And, yes, Logan and Veronica are much less interesting these days. But I could relate last night. I am the crazy girl who wants to stalk the guy, actually any guy, I'm dating and/or interested in. It sucks.

8:22 AM  
Blogger Sarah Dawson said...

Mr. Lady, I'm sure my dad is my dad, but I don't think it's impossible that I might be your evil twin in some fashion. A, just don't put a tracking device on anyone's car, if you can help it.

3:38 PM  
Blogger molly_g said...

just commenting really quick to lend my support and love to you.

10:24 PM  

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