I used to think of getting older as a series of reaching different plateaus. I had a hard time thinking past 16, 18, 21. I made far-reaching plans in my head and accepted them as fact without really doing anything to ensure that I would reach these goals. As I continue my progress into the uncharted territory of my 20s, and I don't see any more plateaus on my horizon, I've realized that I was wrong.

Life is not a series of plateaus, or a journey, or whatever it is that movies lead us to believe. I no longer think that I'm holding out for a great job, or that one romance that will give new purpose to life. Every day that moves forward, I can see everything and everyone that I know changing at what must be a normal rate, but as someone seeing it for the first time, I find it very troubling. I've noticed that my days are largely the same, with the standout exceptions of finding that something about my body doesn't work as well as it used to. My joints feel tight, my teeth tender and the general weight of responsibility heavy.

I've moved past being held responsible for my actions by my parents, or my concerned friends. I am instead only motivated by my own compulsions, whims, and self-destructive tendencies. I don't feel useful, and I don't think that I am doing anything to better the world (which has been the only driving, consistent goal in my life to this point.) This is a weird muck that I wade through in bare feet, hoping to find some lost sense of purpose buried with the dragonfly larvae in the mud.

When I think of the future, it seems like a long empty hallway that I can't see the end of. I'm sure there are doors in it, but none that I can see right now. I have begun to take my greatest pleasures in life from the small group of friends and the moments we share together between our days at our pointless jobs.

Often, I think on Player Piano, by Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. With the emphasis on automation, and rapid progression of technology, I see most lower-level jobs as being phased out in my lifetime. I feel as though the future of my country is a mixture of the corporate society (as depicted in Player Piano) and the rise of artificial intelligence (as depicted in the Second Renaissance from the Animatrix.) Though perhaps not all within my lifetime, as one can never tell how long you have.

Ran into my ex downtown. Forced a little conversation.

I really, really miss that intimate human connection. I miss the snuggles, and all the things that usually come before. I don't know that I'm ready to be that open to another person quite yet, but I miss the small acts of the other person. The things that you savor and long for. Weepy, yes.

Also, the bike race may be an athens tradition, but it's boring.

My ex texted me, asking if I was ever going to speak to him again.

I really don't know what he wants me to say if we do talk.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hP5_Yojpzsc

If you haven't been through a Manson phase at least once in your life, I recommend it.

Look at this video! He has bitches pull his chariot. I want a bitch chariot.

You're supposed to take pictures of things, places, experiences and people that you want to remember. There have been no pictures taken of me in almost a year. I want to become someone worth remembering again. I know I've been allowing the currents of life to carry me for a while. Change comes only to those who pursue it, and those who have it dropped onto them. Nothing has changed recently. Besides my hair, more tattoos, taking some time off of school for a while. So maybe a lot has changed. But I feel the same. I feel like I'm trapped inside a bubble of mediocrity and decay, and I'm getting a little claustrophobic.

But I'm not sure what I need I do to initiate the change I want to see in myself. I don't know what I would like to be, which makes it difficult to aim for anything. For a while I thought that maybe being happy was something worth aiming for. But I don't know how to make myself happy.

I dated and loved someone. But for many reasons, one of the main ones being the imminent demise of my life as I knew it, it didn't last. I broke it off and was a heinous person. I sleep alone every night and clutch my blankets instead of another person. But I know that if I can't be happy on my own, it's really destructive to try and get another person to try. I want to be someone worth loving. I want to achieve things that matter, and I want to get out and do things.

My parents are letting me buy a truck from my grandfather with Alzheimer's. It'll be a stick shift, and at least ten years older than I am. They tell me if I drive it to Atlanta I'll blow the motor out, so it's not the most mobile piece of equipment. Sam and I will be moving in together in the next few months. I hate my job, but the people are wonderful and help me get up in the morning.

More than a small part of me wants to move out of this town. To run somewhere else and just drop anchor and try to make a life for myself. I think I'm at a place in my life where several people might say to themselves, "Hey, where's Allison? Haven't seen her in a few days." But no one who would mourn my leaving, or be unable to transition. On one level this is excruciatingly depressing, but on another it's almost a relief. I really am currently living for myself. It'll probably be a better life once I like myself a bit more.

I am supposed to be seeing a therapist. I can't get them to call me back. No one will talk to me and it's starting to have a severe effect on my day-to-day life.

Maybe venting is better than nothing? I haven't uploaded anything in almost a year. It's safe to say this thing is defunct, I think. A good place to start again... hopefully I'll tell a tale of recovery.

Until then, I'm off to numb myself a good bit.

Summer.

When I looked at the unplanned expanse of the summer, I expressed to my small immediate circle of hombres that I just wanted to work and hang out, regrouping my thoughts, changing my plans, etc. That's pretty much what I've been doing.

I've had my job at the call center for almost three months now. It's not hard work, and the people are pretty alright, for the most part. I'm not going back to the dining hall ever again- that's for sure. I have registered for classes, applied for and received financial aid, and basically prepared for the coming semester of classes. This will be my 4th year. Should be my senior year, but I fucked around a good bit my freshman year, so I'll be doing a 'victory lap' as they say.

Met someone at the new job. He was promptly fired three days after I met him, but we kept in touch. He's pretty okay.

I miss all of my friends in Atlanta a great deal. I especially miss the goth nights. I'm abstractly looking into moving to Atlanta when I graduate, but I suppose that's still a while off.

Life is weird. I'll be back to a higher level of functionality soon, I hope.

Got it.

DISINTEGRATION will go on my right arm, right beside where my kissing skeletons are. For one, they are disintegrating, and for two- it's a good spot. Decision made.

Thoughts?

I had previously been thinking of a bunch of super wordy cure tattoos, but now I think I've settled onto an even better idea.



Now the question is: where do I put it?

Andy and I (2)

Today a group of friends and I, quite under the influence, spent a lovely day in the park near our respective apartments. We played in the water, hiked through the woods, played with a ball on a string and had a very relaxing time on this not-quite sunny sunny day.

Andy came too. Though he didn't stay out long. I didn't bring an umbrella for him, and he's too pale to see much sun.

Andy and I (1)

So, when I was in Atlanta a few weeks ago, my friend Tony bought me this Andy Warhol finger puppet, expecting me to destroy it. Instead, I popped it onto my finger and started thinking of all of the hilarious things I could do with it! Andy and I look at abstract expressionist paintings at the High, Andy and I pee onto a canvas and call it art, Andy and I have someone else talk about the paintings that they did that I'm taking credit for, and so on and so forth.

Then I started carrying him around in my bag, and before I knew it, Andy and I had taken an Art History exam, Andy and I had been to a job interview, and Andy and I had eaten Mexican food.

Even these things started to have a sort of novelty. So, since I've sort of abandoned the photo-a-day thing, I thought I'd reinstate it in a way.

I present to you: Andy and I, the series.

In this installment: Andy and I fix our makeup.