Okay, I'm having a sad week. On Monday, as you may recall, I wrote a bunch of stuff about hating stuff and junk. I still sort of hate my job and feel like I'm completely wasting my life, but today I'm getting all teary-eyed over James Kochalka's bandmate Jason's weird episode. I've even gone so far as to read most of his online journal.
Now I know that if someone's journal is online and accessible to millions of people, it's probably okay to read it in its entirety. But I do feel a little creepy about it because I'm actually worried about this guy who I've never met and who could very well be a big assface who just happens to be drawn like a cute little doggie in an online comic strip. What the hell is wrong with me? Am I having some sort of estrogen upsurge? On Monday I was all freaked out because my ex-boyfriend had a hernia operation and I subsequently had bad dreams about him getting baby arms grafted to his forehead.
Not that there's anything wrong with being worried about people. Worry=care=sensitive, nice-person feelings. It's just that my worry seems to be attached to a kind of woeful nostalgia. I really didn't expect to have a turning-30 crisis, since it's all so fucking arbitrary, but maybe I am. I'm worried about other people and I'm worried about myself and what's going to become of me ten years from now, ten months from now, ten minutes from now. I feel my life slipping out of control, precisely because it's so horribly under control.
I miss my dad. I miss the east coast. I miss the smell of dying leaves. I miss college and my friends in Pittsburgh. I miss places I've never been to because I'm afraid I may never get there. I miss feeling like I have all the time in the world.
You can find more of the interesting word usements I structure on Apple.com.
Read my article, Better Writing Through Design, on No. 242 of A List Apart.