Writer's Block

I swore that I wouldn't get deep into my emotional issues on this blog but... to hell with that.

I finished up my second year of college a few weeks ago and ever since I've felt like I've been in a bit of a funk. I somehow got the lowest grade I've ever received and it barely fazed me. Oh well. Can't win them all.

My writing too, seems to have fallen off. It's such an exhausting activity that I've been avoiding it ever since I turned in my last creative writing assignnment. It's not just laziness, sadly enough. Deep down, I'm fearful that I might not be that great of a writer. That my creative ideas aren't really all that new or interesting, that my writing style is redundant, that my dialogue sounds worse than a high schooler's play, that I'm simply throwing my hopes into writing because to admit anything else would be far too great of a mindfuck.

On another level, I feel like a drifter socially as well. Some people have those friends that were across the hall or roommates freshman year and they'll be friends for the rest of their lives. Somehow or another, I missed that. Sure, I've still got some friends I talk to from freshmen year. But I don't have "that group". Granted, I've never really desired a close group of friends until recently.

After constantly criticizing my cousin for always having a boyfriend instead of enjoying the single life, I finally realized that I've been doing the same thing for over a year. Granted, there were times where I was technically out of a relationship and "single", but I was always pursuing someone or at least had someone to call late at night. Over the summer I kept up an untitled long distance relationship more out of boredom than anything else. As that fell apart as the school year started up, I leapt on to a new set of friends and faces. I became involved with one person to get back at another. And somehow, that turned into a full relationship because it felt like the next step. You go on a few dates, you declare yourself girlfriend/boyfriend. That's the way it works, right?

And when the reality that there really was no spark there ever became too strong to deal with, I turned inward. Shut myself off, and eventually worked up the courage to break up. When the reality hit that I was also probably going to sacrifice my new set of friends I went back and landed myself even deeper into the emotional minefield we call relationships. Like most people, commitment is a scary word. But I truly believe that if you meet the right person, than commitment comes naturally. If you fight it, something is wrong.

So I spent a winter break trying to recalibrate who I was and where I was going. Instead I ended up realizing what I knew all along. A relationship isn't about the title, it's about the two people in it. And if there isn't anything there, than all you're fighting is gravity. It took me another month to finally make a clean break, but notice that it was only AFTER I had someone else to run to. And so, with a stacked deck, I began what would easily be high in the "don't ever do this" lists.

It's entirely true that a rebound relationship leads to nothing but one very painful breakup. Little did I realize that I'd be the one getting a taste of the bitterness known as the Jilted Lover. I fell fast for her, no doubt. Yes, there were signs that I conveniently ignored. I now know that the words "I believe in gender roles" is now akin to the "get the fuck away now" sign. After we broke up, I was faced with the hard truth that I was now single. Not "on a break" single. Not "pursuing that hot girl in english class" single. Just single.

And to be honest, it sucks. I spent a good month deeply depressed. Not "suicide" depressed, but more of a existentialist "life can go and fuck itself" times. Then a good bit of time on the stage got me refocused on just how awesome I am. All of a sudden, things seemed to click. I was enjoying life much more than I had in a good long while. That high you get on stage... it's the best feeling in the world. But ultimately that's what it is. An addiction, a quick fix and a false hope to hold on to. I got to act like a smug bastard on stage and what do you know... I liked it. Sure, I'll still be that cute, slightly innocent and nerdy guy at times. But I've always had a nasty streak of narcissism in me. It's times to play that up. It's time for me to Suit Up, if you will.

Things looked great again, and karma seemed to arrive at just the right time. Classes seemed to be on the upswing, I was on great terms with my roommates, I had found a fantastic group of new guys to live with next year, and I even got a "you were right" plea from the ex. Life, as they say, was paying dividends.

Yet somehow, it seemed to fall apart piece by piece. Classes dragged me back down, roommates moved away, and knowing that karma still semed to work gave me little solace. Part of it is the shift to summer I assume. Things change, and I've never been a big fan of change. At the end of the day though, it comes down to one simple fact. I hate being single.

People tend to think that us "we hate being single" types are doing it because of insecurity. We don't like being alone, I'm told. We secretly think we're losers is the other line. But ultimately, at least from my experience, it's not quite that. I truly think I'm an awesome person. I'm fun to be with, got a good future ahead of me, good looking in that cute sort of way, and (to top it all off) marginally smart. I like having my "alone time", hence the writing gig. I just really, really hate this killer sense of loneliness and the realization that what I want in a girlfriend may not be as easy to find as I thought.

I ruthlessly ripped on a friend of mine for saying that his ideal woman was Pam from the Office. Lo and behold, I've seen my perfect woman and she was created by a writer's pen. Go rent Coupling (UK version) and watch Susan. Quite literally, the Perfect woman for me. I'm indecisive, and more than a bit lazy. I need a take-charge, agressive woman who isn't afraid to make the first move or choose the restaurant. Unfortunately, our society has a name for that type of girl. She's called a slut.

So here I am, at 5 a.m. coming to the realization that others have come to countless times.

I need to date a slut. Because I'm too fucking indecisive to take the lead in the bedroom every time. Because I'm tired of making every fucking decision. Because at the end of the day, I need to be the passive one in the relationship.

To hell with arbitrary standards of masculinity. I listen to Madonna, Kelly Clarkson, and The Donnas. I like a good romance film every now and then. I get emotionally torn up after getting dumped. I don't need to drink and fuck as many girls as I possibly can to deal with emotional baggage. And yeah, I'm passive and indecisive and exhausted from being expected to do everything.

No more, I say. No more. Because you know what? If I end up dating another "I'm so agressive but I'm passive as soon as we start dating" then I'm fucking going to lose it. Come on ladies, can't you do better than that?

Next: I'm planning on doing an episode-by-episode analysis of How I Met Your Mother. If I don't, you know, get another bout of laziness.