The day where I did nothing.

I went to bad last night no later than 11:30. It was a really bad day for me, and I'd go as far as saying that every day this week has been a bad one. Today wasn't much different. I couldn't sleep at all when I went to bed, and so I logged on to Meebo at midnight and tried talking with people. Nothing of substance was said, but it only took an hour for my eyes to get droopy. Turns out, of course, that droopy isn't enough, and I stayed in an uncomfortable coma from 1:00 to 6:30. Unable to take any more pretend-sleep, I logged on to Meebo again and caught the only person who's mattered this week as he was heading out to work. Once he had left, I tried the whole sleep thing again, then abandoned my attempts at 7:00 and got ready for the day.

By the time I made it downstairs, I was tired enough again to fall asleep, so I lay down on the couch and pulled out my iPod, to type on its notepad all of the things I wanted to say to the only person who's mattered this week. When that was done, I rolled onto my side and slept until my stomach demanded attention. I gave it the usual breakfast: cinnamon life (all we have in the way of cereal) with some mixed-in bran (all we have in the way of keeping my bowels just shy of total misery). When that was out of the way, I got on my computer, and logged on to retype everything to the only person who's mattered this week from my iPod and into Adium. Afterward, I composed Green, a playlist intended to only have songs inspiring fresh starts and new outlooks, sans any hint of love (something I currently see as cruelly ironic). Either my heart wasn't in it enough, or I'm a helpless romantic with too many songs centered around that theme, because when I was finished making the playlist, I only had 51 songs. I didn't feel like listening to it once I'd finished, and opted for my normal playlist of some 390 songs. When shuffled, it usually has a good sense of fitting the mood I'm in at a given time. Today wasn't different: the songs were all downbeat. During the ten songs I listened to, I got back onto Adium and typed a few more things to the only person who's mattered this week, and once I'd said everything that was on my mind, I retired once again to the couch downstairs. It was 2:00. I woke up when my dad got home, just before 4:00. Now I'm writing this blog.

I nearly started crying when I was in the middle of the first few sentences of this. I just started crying again now, thinking about how my father, who has never been one of many words, noticed how depressed I was on Tuesday and talked to me about it. I'm fairly sure he's still concerned, because my mood hasn't drastically changed between now and then. I mean, I just told you I'm crying right now.

I know that this shouldn't have been such a bad week. I got a new cell phone, I have my first job, and I'll be doing orientation for it on Saturday, two days before my family leaves for Virginia Beach. But what does that mean for me, really? A shiny new toy, and the finest symbol of power any red-blooded American can think of. Toys don't intrinsically contain anything of value to the human soul, and power is nothing without a means or a reason to share it. What good will my paychecks do if all I ever spend them on are toys that remain static on my shelves all my life? What good is saving that money for something grand if the only person who will witness its marvel is me? There's no sense to it, and so all of these things I have or will have... they're as empty as I am right now.

I don't know how much more often my heart can go through this pain. Love leaves deeper scars than anything else I know.

Drowsy musings

I was with my friend Andrew in the campus coffee shop earlier today, looking at the various options I had for cold drinks. I was thirsty, you see, and delicious as coffee is, I just didn't feel like downing a hot one on a warm fall day (in spite of the fact that it's over 80 degrees outside, I want my readers to acknowledge that it has, in fact, been fall since September 22).

So I saw the Aquafina and the water and the smoothie list, and noticed that Aquafina costs $1.25 where water costs $1.00. Thinking that I had missed the day where Aquafina stopped being water, I looked at the drink case and saw that the Aquafina was all of the flavor splash variety. Well, that explained it, I thought, but Andrew told me that he sees Aquafina as pure evil.

And somehow this brought us to the topic of parallel universes. I believe the train of thought went something like this: why the hate toward Aquafina, did Aquafina kill his dad, maybe in a parallel universe.

Yes. That's it.

And so my wonderings were fixed on parallel universes. It's incredible, that when we say to ourselves "anything's possible," we don't really mean it, because we believe that there's a certain amount of rationality to anything in the universe, even those things that seem completely irrational. In a parallel universe, I am equivalent to this universe's Indiana Jones. And I'm probably fighting the evil corporation of Aquafina for killing Andrew's dad.

Or maybe I'm actually the operative from Aquafina that killed Andrew's dad. My conscience is unphased by this act, which the me that's typing this is completely against, and I'm setting traps for the unassuming Andrew to fall into. Or we could look at a different universe where Andrew knows that I'm laying traps for him, and he eventually makes it to where I am and kills me. Gosh, that'd suck.

I'm sure there are plenty of parallel universes where I'm a homeless guy, too. Maybe there are a handful where I dance and sing for food on some corner in New York because I couldn't make it as a line dancer and that was my lifelong dream. In that other universe.

On the same token, there have to be plenty of universes (much like this one) where I'm just this normal guy who isn't Indiana Jones, or an incredibly powerful businessman, or a hobo. And I'm just trying to find my way in life. Maybe I'm happier. Maybe I'm not happier. One of the bitter ironies, of course, would be that in some other universe, I might have everything that I want in this universe, and still not be happy. Or it would actually be making me unhappy.

The really tricky thing about thinking in terms of infinite universes is that just because there are infinite opportunities for something to happen... doesn't necessarily mean that it actually ever does. Are there some factors of existence that are true in absolutely every reality? By that same token, are there some things in all of existence that have absolute no chance of happening?

Are there some things, some people, some places, some events, that are completely unique, only seen just one single time, in one universe, in one instance, for one little blip of eternity?

The more important question is... how do we react when we experience those things that will never be seen by anybody else, ever, in this or any other existence?