Today has been climactic and obnoxious. Therapy was terrible, and I just don't want to deal with Christianity, anymore. I finally got them to give me pills, though... that's exciting. The good part of the day symbolically came after I left. Actually, as I was arriving, to be more specific.
See, it's thanksgiving break. I departed the clinic with a prescription and an intent to destroy anything in my way from there to Shopko. The trip back was awful... traffic upon traffic upon ignorant traffic [ignorant in the fact that they didn't realise that I was in a hurry, obviously]. I got ridiculously pissed and hopped off of 90 at Randall, taking that road all the way to 20 and speeding up that way. I'm pretty sure I passed every single imbecilic car in 90 as I sped up my happy trail toward my house. I hopped back onto 90 and went 80 mph in the awkward flurry, past caravan and car, managing to continue the tradition of not getting pulled over by a cop despite my inhuman lawbreaking.
I finally reached Mecca-... er, Shopko, and hurried inside, already a bit pissed about traffic. Who would happen to appear but my dear little compatriot Ashleigh. She yelled my name across the entrance way and I slid to a stop, darting my eyes about in confusion. I should be used to it now, of course -- people yelling for me while I'm out here. In any case, she happened to be going on her break, so she accompanied me to fill my prescription and we stepped outside for a smoke [her to smoke and me to blow air-puffs in the flurried air, of course]. She mentioned about how Chase had some bipolar blast of emotions and broke up with her. I'm not quite sure how to take it, but I'm not quite believing that idea, exactly. I have no right to pin it on anything else... it's just strange, that's all. She said she was going to deck him when she went back to get her stuff, so it's quite possible that he was just a dick to her. We chatted some more, she like all the rest threw out the idea of hanging out over break [me like all the rest of the times saying, "Yea, that's awesome. Call me when you're free."]. I never answer my phone... or I'm 'stuck on a project'. Otherwise I'm in another city.
I left there and sped on home [this is where I find this trip home entirely representational to my life at the moment]. Just as I was passing Dawson Lake Road, my car sputtered. A few things raced through my mind, one of them obviously being,
"Holy shit, I am so fucked."
The KeBaron continued sputtering slowly as I neared the first entrance to the strip mall, passing the trailer park in a puttering fury of noise and shaking. I reached the first entrance and passed it at a solid 50 mph (my average speed on this road being approximately 63), continuing on my perilous journey to the gas station at the next entrance. The ol' Red Fury teetered on the edge of discontinuance as I neared the next exit. I finally reached the turn lane, hesitantly nudging the acceleration pedal and finally easing my way in at a pitiful 35 mph.
Now, something that you should know is that there's a hill to reach up to the gas station. That's the part that worried me... I was alright coasting -- it was the uphill part that I was worried about. Anyhow, I tried to pensively gun the acceleration to push through this last leg of my anxiety-ridden frame's journey to the pump and managed to eek a last bit of gasoline out of the ol' girl. I turned left into the station's bay and managed to reach about 20 feet away until I gave up on the idea of coasting. Popping open the door, I leaped out while the car still had momentum and shoved it toward the pumps. It was alright, actually. Exhilarating. I inadvertently nudged the horn and managed to obtain the attention of every able-bodied farmer-type in the area. One of the cashiers actually sped out, reaching me just as I parked the beast in its place beneath the faux-ceiling. "Wow, you got it in already?" "Yea, man," I replied, "Just in time!" "Damn," he exclaimed, "You really worked that for all it's worth." "Fair enough," I grinned.
Needless to say, I felt the biggest dumbass for not gassing up early, but the most badass muthafuckah ever because I managed to have to push my car into the gas station due to it not having any gas left.
It all made me feel nostalgic, though. It represented to me exactly what I'd imagined all along: all my life (so far in Elgin) has been an extended theatrics for a bigger picture. I was never happy out in Rockford, going to CLHS, but I did manage to make the best of it. Running out of gas made me realise that this homecoming is so similar to it. I've been so low in fuel ever since Jess and I broke up that I was just sputtering along. The moment I got here, I was able to push my battered frame into the bay just before I gave up completely... even as I gave up completely.
I gassed up, got home and discovered that my mother made me spaghetti. Well, ordered, but nevertheless. Fuckin' yea, pasta. I gorged and organised my things, did my face and examined my new pills. I'm on Paxil. Good shit, man. It's an anti-depressant/ -anxiety/ -phobias/ -everything. Tight as fuck. It's supposed to help me sleep, too. *shrug* Hasn't shown up yet, but who knows. I actually left again, surprisingly. There was a Scatteredtrees concert tonight.
I got there solidly at 10, just in time to see the end of Starlight Radio. Justin was playing with them! It was spectacular... he's so enviably good. I glanced around and discovered that Jason Harper was there, along with Matt Youngblood. Good times, man. I hopped up next to them, exchanged greetings and enjoyed the rest of the concert. SR played one more song, and it was time for Scatteredtrees to set up.
Jason and I turned to each other and talked for a bit about how things were, et cetera. Starting off small talk. I think that we've secretly both known how alike we each are to the other, but haven't really done anything about it because of how reserved we are. A pretty common ground we found, however, was reading. I mentioned Neitzche, and he and I had a ball comparing him to others, LAWLing over Thus Spoke Zarathustra and hob-nobbing over the necessity of reading it in German [it is necessary, by the way]. I actually told him about my being in therapy, and he was really understanding. He almost did too, apparently. That was comforting. Kind of hardened me to the idea of the clinic, though. He has other coping mechanisms and is more accepting than I am, but I still don't really need it. *shrug*
Scatteredtrees started their engines, and it was off. Ryne apparently was sick, but it was really just a chest-cold-kind-of-thing. They played through:
1. Most Beautiful Song
2. that one song where it's all 'you are the reason I'm staying'
3.Promises
4. the house song that I don't know
5. Heart of Glass
6. Eyes From Distance (redone)
They may have played others, but I can't quite remember. I decided that I wasn't going to go to Paragon (everyone was planning on just drinking a lot, and there's no place for me, there). I said farewell to all my friends and made the rounds on the bandmates, saying how much I enjoyed the show. Nate and I talked a bit, and he gave me some of his skittles [lawl]. There was this kid there that he bought some skittles, too. It was just funny. I see so much of myself in him, and it's kind of depressing to see what I could do. Vicariously. Abstractly. Transpose me into that. Whatever. It was really funny, because each of them made sure that I came to the concert on Friday, and Baron kind of felt bad about not being able to catch up tonight.
It's alright. I'll be around.
