003: Moment by moment

There's no pleasing some people. In this case, me. I'm depressed. There's nothing about my situation that wouldn't depress me. The opposites of all the things that I find depressing about life right now are also depressing. And I write the word "depression" like it means something to me, or like my possible depression should mean something to you, and I almost laugh, because of how stupid that sounds. Scotto depressed again. A laughable premise. I'd laugh, if I weren't so depressed about it.

I hugged a stranger today. A sorority girl outside a frat house. Every year around this time they stand outside - sorority girls and frat guys - and give out hot chocolate and fliers and the girls hug random dudes like me. I don't know if this is their way of asking people to join. I don't think I'm what they're looking for, I don't think they're what I'm looking for, although in a perverse way they kind of are, because I need some consistency, some companionship. Maybe I don't need to get shitfaced and have fight clubs or whatever other ridiculous things I imagine frats do. According to their flier, they do a lot of charity work and they maintain good GPA's, which kind of discounts me, since I've been seeing a lot of C's on my last semester marks.

I didn't have my shit together last semester. I was distracted, by the sheer weight of school and the immensity of life. And trying to escape it all by writing. Writing is all I've got and I hope I am not shitty at it, because that would be a cruel joke of life. I keep saying, I should've been a plumber. Anytime I am hating on myself, I think of the plumber thing. If only. Somedays I'd rather be elbow-deep in shit than trying to picture myself as a successful writer of anything.

I'm listening to the Beta Band, that's how depressed I am. It's not depressing music, it's just very meditative, helps clear my angst. Very simple. Takes me back to the simpler days of first year. Puts me in a very specific place and time, especially since many of these songs I have long since dropped from the iPod and haven't listened to therefore since mid 2008.

It's just... it's a lot of stuff, life. Eric went home earlier this evening. As irritating as it was that he was here -- I mean, that he was in one place the entire time (one of the things over which Robyn and I commiserated the last time we talked) -- I got used to his presence and now the place feels a little empty. Eric and I have such a strange relationship, it's so totally a brother-relationship. We're capable of hating each other, of intense frustration with each other, but we're still willing to hang out, to joke around, we relate. We get tired of each other, but at our best, we're a good match. Maybe I'm just depressed because I had been craving a moment to myself, and now that I have it, I hate it. There's no pleasing me. You know, he hates my typing? I type fast/loud, he hates it, I get self-conscious and am therefore not productive when he's around.

I'm stuck in life. First week not yet over and I'm feeling a little stuck about it. This always happens, goddamn it, every semester, every year, every time I start something new. Maybe it's because I cheated myself out of a break (by *gasp* working a part-time job. And the brother thing.) Maybe I just need a girl. That's usually what it boils down to, ain't it? I could go on about that shit, but you know and I know what is going on (nothing) and if you need more please don't hesitate to ask -- or wait until I do feel up to sharing (which is still nothing.)

It's amazing. I have felt recently -- just in the past three days since returning to school -- a drastic desire to leave school behind. It's stupid; I should do no such thing. I've gotten a few bad marks lately. I know I'm not a very good student. I'm not an academic. I am torturing myself. It's the only way I know how to do it. I'm looking over the readings for this North American Music course I'm taking, starting tomorrow, and I'm just like, "What was I thinking? Who am I kidding?" I can't force myself to be academic. I don't know what they want from me. After three years, I'm worse at it now than when I started. After I graduate - because you can bet your balls I will, I haven't come this far to drop out, no matter how frustrated I get - I'm going to need to just take some time to relax. I don't know what I will do, probably write. I have this crazy idea of myself going to Asia to teach English for a while, but that's a fairly ridiculous prospect for such a homebody as myself. But it'd be great to get away, to unplug myself from my rut, you know? And put this degree to good use, despite it being essentially unnecessary for that. Urk. Catch-22. I don't want to leave the things I hate.

I should get myself locked up in a nuthouse. I think that might be best for all concerned. I could be the family skeleton. Oh, we don't talk about him, we miss him, but we don't bring up his situation.

Nothing happened today other than I dwelt on my usual failures as a man and as a human being. Nobody likes a bummer, though. Least of all, me. But that's what I've gotta be sometimes. I have to be a drag. It's what makes the good times possible. The only virtue I have is that I'm in touch with my neuroses and failings.

In the syllabus for that Pop Music course, the essays are described as such "When you write, please remember that the point of this course is to cultivate a critical
view of music as a social, cultural, historical phenomenon, not for you to develop your own unreflective relationship to music; effusive musical autobiographies or fan manifestos will not be acceptable." I find it sad that this sentence even needed to be included. It sounds very stern, and the word "unreflective" which as a word is nebulous at best and made-up at worst, hurts most of all, partly because I'm not sure what it's supposed to mean (best guess: you're in school for God's sake, don't write a paper about how Zeppelin rules.) But I will keep it in mind.

If I had to guess, I'd say I'll end up writing a throughline of first and second wave rock and roll, from Chuck Berry through the British Invasion to Psychedelia. But I say this having attended no lectures and done no readings, so who the fuck knows. Incidentally, the readings are all online, so bonus for not spending money.

We'll see how it goes. I usually learn to tolerate things I expect to hate, which is weird because I expect to like this and yet I expect to hate it all the more due to my expectation of disappointment.

They refurbished the McDonald's by Museum station for the first time in like ever.

I have got a lot of shit I am going to have to work through if I am ever going to make satisfactory dick jokes again. Everything should be about me. I'm going to be right back with a post about 2009. this calls for a rare double-post.

Keep on rockin'
-Scotto