The Weight Of The World
As I walked home, in one of those peculiar moments that MP3 players will give you when on shuffle, it decided to take me from the mellow sounds of Death Cab to a random Dane Cook bit:
"And then you get a tap on your shoulder. And when you turn around, who's behind you? The world. Right on your shoulder going: Hey what's up."
He explained to me in graphic detail through my headphones the steps that we go through when we go through when we need to cry. A deep, soulful, emotional cry. As a person who's had things piling up in my life and giving me probably more excuses than I need to cry, strangely, his description made me laugh.
Objectively, it's probably easy to prove that I'm have been in a tough situation as of late. There is increasing tension as I try to figure out what is going on with my career. I've been without a girlfriend since last summer. Revenue Canada seems to think I owe them more money than I currently have in the bank. I'm trying to save money but somehow the bills are never as small as I need them to be. And the little things, getting a dentist, a doctor and getting my Washington state driver's license, all have been falling through the cracks.
As I walked and happily enjoyed the feeling of the sun on my face, I wondered why I wasn't depressed, or upset, or ready to let the weight of the world get me down. Am I holding it in? Is it repressed? Am I just jaded? What was wrong with me?
That evening, I sat in my living room, by myself, smoking a hookah by the fireplace with a glass of wine in hand. I read a misogynistic yet strangely insightful book called "An Average American Male" while music played to the Decemberists. Colin Meloy declared passionately: "They'll never catch me! No they'll never catch me now! We will escape somehow...somehow."
And I smiled. I would not rather be anyone else.
Life is good.
"And then you get a tap on your shoulder. And when you turn around, who's behind you? The world. Right on your shoulder going: Hey what's up."
He explained to me in graphic detail through my headphones the steps that we go through when we go through when we need to cry. A deep, soulful, emotional cry. As a person who's had things piling up in my life and giving me probably more excuses than I need to cry, strangely, his description made me laugh.
Objectively, it's probably easy to prove that I'm have been in a tough situation as of late. There is increasing tension as I try to figure out what is going on with my career. I've been without a girlfriend since last summer. Revenue Canada seems to think I owe them more money than I currently have in the bank. I'm trying to save money but somehow the bills are never as small as I need them to be. And the little things, getting a dentist, a doctor and getting my Washington state driver's license, all have been falling through the cracks.
As I walked and happily enjoyed the feeling of the sun on my face, I wondered why I wasn't depressed, or upset, or ready to let the weight of the world get me down. Am I holding it in? Is it repressed? Am I just jaded? What was wrong with me?
That evening, I sat in my living room, by myself, smoking a hookah by the fireplace with a glass of wine in hand. I read a misogynistic yet strangely insightful book called "An Average American Male" while music played to the Decemberists. Colin Meloy declared passionately: "They'll never catch me! No they'll never catch me now! We will escape somehow...somehow."
And I smiled. I would not rather be anyone else.
Life is good.