UGHHH, you guys. I was not the youngest person in the room last night and it fucking bothered me. Like, it bothered me a lot more than it should have. I guess this is to be expected, since I place so much importance on my intelligence as it relates to the intelligence of people older than I am (my "precociousness quotient", if you will). And it's also to be expected because eventually - in, like, two months - I won't be 22 anymore. PERISH THE THOUGHT. At every moment in time, there's a generation with one foot out the door, and a generation on their way into the room; I am coming to the quick realization that I'm a member of the generation that has one foot out the door. And what am I to leave behind? The more I think about it, the more the very idea of thinking about it makes my skin crawl. Yes, it's all very meta.
I wrote that paragraph like four hours ago and I have no idea where I was going with it. It looks to be a pretty self-contained sentiment: "I'm fucking bonkers." Seems like a pretty universal theory on what the fuck's wrong with me - John told me on Tuesday that he was interested in working with me because I was "clearly pathologically insane". Which, now that I think about it, doesn't bother me as much as it maybe should.
Anything else? I watched Aliens: Resurrection tonight with my dad and brother, and it was fucking awesome, as usual. Other than that, nothing. It looks like everyone I know is staying in tonight - everyone's either drunk and watching TV at home, or out in Clear Lake (fuck that), or "taking the night off", or not picking up their phone/ignoring texts, or out of alternatives (me). This leads me to the discovery that I've very quickly fallen out of the habit of not going out. I'm sitting here in my pj's and still my leg is vibrating incessantly because I think - I'm pretty sure, in fact - that I should be in the car, on my way to the usual adventure. It's 10:30! The night is yet young! And yet, it should have begun by now.
So: tonight is dismal, but tomorrow looks good. Story of my life.