Tuesday, September 09, 2003

How many f*@#ing things can go wrong in a night? Missed calls back and forth with Shauna, who called my house right after I left, and the radio station before I got there, but didn't answer the phone once I called her from the station and never called me back. About an hour into my show, the internet feed dies. I already had to fix the internet connection for the studio when I got in there, and so for it to just up and die pissed me off to no end. After 110 minutes of taping the show, the tape deck from hell wouldn't let me record the second part of my show. Meanwhile, after screaming obsceneties at a cassette deck for not doing the VERY THING IT IS DESIGNED TO DO, I tried several more times, fruitlessly, to fix the internet connection at the station. Effort in futility, folks.

Then, 3am rolls around, and no fat guy playing local music. You would think that a fat, disgusting sample of humanity at its finest, complete with an email address with "divaman" in it, who likes to complain about things like a new combination to get into the studio (because he might forget it...i mean, it's not like he would be able to write it down or anything), would at least show up for his shift. But no. So, once again, with nobody to follow me, I get even more upset than I already am. I have been having severe problems with loneliness and abandonment lately, partially due to my obscene work hours. Also, I was alone all weekend at work working those obscene hours. Much thanks to Charlie for joining me for a diner expedition on Saturday night...I really needed the company. I was really close to a meltdown with the work of more than two people thrown at me for 36 hours of a 72 hour period. So the whole being alone at the station at 3am after the weekend I had just really made it that much worse.

I do the radio show because I love sharing my musical tastes with others, and I really get a buzz off of people calling or telling me that they love my show. In many ways, i feel like the only thing I know how to do well is listen to and appreciate music. I can whip off related bands, or bands that sound similar to other bands, for you like nobody's business. It is my only skill...and unless you are Matt Pinfield, who is scary enough to convince people that they should hire him, it isn't very marketable. Also, I want to write a music column for someone, but I can't seem to schedule my time AT ALL. Having a job with the hours that I do, I find it impossible to maintain some semblance of a social life AND get things done. I tend to choose social life, because, frankly, there will still be things to do when I am 40 and no longer cool to my younger friends (he says, sort-of jokingly).

Not to lay it on too heavy here, but lately I've just felt really alone. Maybe it's because I'm turning 30 in exactly one week, and I don't have someone to share what I consider to be the happiest point of my life with. Maybe it's because everyone around me seems to be involved. It might even have to do with the recent string of events related to me possibly sharing things with someone, which invariably finds me alone again, naturally. It sounds stupid for me to say that I feel lonely, because I've never had so many friends before in my life, and I know a majority of them genuinely care about my well-being. Hell, the fact that anyone showed up and sat through my performance shows how much my friends care.

I once wrote a piece on how I felt that my feelings were only A or B, and that I was so uncomplicated, and that so many people around me were complex and deep, and I was all surface. I no longer believe this to be true. I've been having a lot of feelings about a lot of things this past year, and I'm starting to become anaethema to myself. I'm gonna try to cheer myself up by moving into the house next door before my birthday. Let's see if it actually happens. My mom is taking bets that I won't move in before my birthday. If you bet for me, I think the odds are something like 20 to 1. If you put your money on me, you could more than quadruple your money.

Next Tuesday, the 16th...my birthday. Cancel your other plans. Come over to my house and then off to Saints and Sinners for Karaoke. Or something like that. Mini golf or bowling, maybe?

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