I came home today, from work, in an odd mood. I was waxing nostologic, remembering the old times, and becoming a little sad, because I miss the old days.
I miss going to play basketball on the weekends with a handful of friends, then going to eat Ci-Ci's pizza buffett afterward (we'd steal pizza, put it in Tupperware for later... this is in college, we were poor). I miss having friends, who would just hang out. Going out is such a production now. We have to set a time, and a place, and what movie are we going to see, and people need to be home early cause they have to work the next day. Or people have this or that which they've already comitted to, and it's just so complicated. Then it was just, "let's go." and we went. I definately miss the girls. There was always a girl I could be interested in then. There was always a chance that I could end up spending the night with someone I knew, or someone I just met. It never happened (extremely very rarely), but the opportunity was there. Now every girl I know is someone who I'm not interested in, or they're not interested in me, or they're already in a relationship, or who knows what. But life now seems so drab.
I start to wonder how many opportunities for adventure, fun, love, or at the very least sex I let slip through my fingers over the last ten to fifteen years. If I had known that this is what was going to happen. That this stagnation is what I had in store for me was what was to become, then maybe I would have jumped, leapt at the chances given me. But that was then, and this is now.
Oh for a handkerchief full of choroform and a time machine (that way I could travel 13 years back in time, subdue 18-year-old me, and take his place. Though everyone I knew 13 years ago would probably be a little freaked that I aged 13 year in an instant).
My friend Theater Guy is coming home from China soon, and he's making a pit stop in Spain, and would like me to fly out and meet him.
I have no passport (a rush job would cost me $130 ish? I think). A plane ticket would cost me $1300+. And then, well, then I'd be in Spain, which will/would be great, but how would I pay for stuff then?
And this trip would be coming on the heels of a trip to Connecticuit to see a friend go off and get married. Not to mention a very cranky couple of credit cards that want loads of money from me. And that schooling I had certainly wasn't free. And I'm still paying rent.
See, if this opportunity were to present itself eight, maybe nine months from now. No question I go (I will soon not be paying rent, so that's an extra $600 a month). But now, I just don't know if it's financially feasible. But damn it. Is this one of those moments? Am I going to be looking back five years from now thinking, "Spain was there, my best friend in the whole world was there, the money wasn't, but maybe it would have worked out, why didn't I take the chance and go to Spain? It's SPAIN. It's where I come from (if you trek back far enough in history). I could have drank Spanish beer. Seen a barbaric bull fight, and gotten rejected by a beautiful woman in a totally different language. But instead I worked. I shelved books, and I got rejected by the same old English speaking women."
Or if I go to Spain, will I be saying, "Why did I go to Spain? I'm so broke. I wish I didn't have to sell my spleen."
These are the moments I actively fear. I think about how I want to become a painter, or writer, or something, or anything, and I think, "But what have I done? How can I write or paint or anything about life when I've done so little living?" And that makes me just a bit sad, cause I'll keep trying to find a way to get to Spain, but that little feeling of doom is growing bigger, just ever so slightly bigger every time I think about it.
And all this horrific rumination stemmed from a project I'm working on (a little short story action) in which I needed to cull some information from an old blog I wrote years ago. I've been scouring my old blogs looking for this one little tid-bit. I've yet to find it. But I did find this funny scenario for a sequal to the movie Dirty Pretty Things (and you thought I was going to leave you with a downer of a blog).
ORIGINALLY POSTED September 4, 2003:
So, I went and saw Dirty Pretty Things with my new movie buddy tonight. It had a very non-hollywood ending, which left me a bit underwhelmed. Even my movie buddy wasn't very happy with the ending. I told her that the writers and director left the movie to end like that so they could make a sequel... Dirty Pretty Things II: Dirtier, Prettier. I imagine there will be some differences between this movie and the next one. They'll hollywood it up. It'll be a buddy action movie. Hollywood types will step in and take over the roles played by these lesser known actors. I'm gonna spoil some stuff, so if you wanna see the movie, stop reading... DIRTY PRETTY THINGS II: DIRTIER, PRETTIER: I envision Jeremy Irons, (now playing the role of the organ harvest guy), following Seney (played by Katie Holmes in the sequal) back to NYC, which is where we assume she went at the end of the first movie. He (Jeremy Irons) is there to exact revenge for what she (Katie Homes) and Okwe (now played by Wesley Snipes) did to him at the end of the first movie.