The Yellow Room

I’ve written most of these posts in one of two places, either while clocked in at Dunkin’, or locked in my room. It’s funny for me to go back and read my posts, because I can see which ones were made where.

Usually, the wild depressing ones are made in my room, isolated from everything else in my life. The yellow walls of my room are sometimes the closest I get to seeing sunlight, so I’m sure that contributes to the overall vibe of my writing.

I love my room. It’s where I feel most comfortable. It has all my books, my records, my laptop and speakers, my reefer, and an incredibly comfortable bed that I use as a couch most of the time. I think I write my best work here, because when I’m comfortable, I’m less likely to be self-conscious, and more likely to trust my ideas.

My room isn’t much. It’s not as big as the other rooms in my parent’s house, it doesn’t have it’s own bathroom or any architectural significance, but it’s mine, and has been as long as I can remember. I use my room to escape from a world I don’t think I belong in, so by surrounding myself with things that make sense to me (books and music), I made a place that feels like a sanctuary for me.

My time in The Yellow Room is running out. As life moves on for me, I’m starting the process of moving out of my house and becoming a real person, which scares the shit out of me. Sometimes I don’t know if I can function, or even survive without this place. It’s been my creative oasis for so many years, I don’t know if any other space will stimulate my brain the same way, and that makes me sad.

I’m definitely overthinking this, but the shitty thing about constantly being stuck in your head is that you can never tell if you’re right to think the way you do.

The Release of Writing

Why is writing so helpful for so many people? Does it work for everyone, or is there something that makes you gravitate to writing to decipher your thoughts and feelings? I’m in a really weird place in life right now, I thought I knew what I wanted and how my life was going to turn out, but I’ve been wrong every time it mattered. I thought I was going to work in Advertising, that hasn’t worked, no matter how many campaigns I make. I thought I would be happy, that’s not happening. I thought I’d understand the world around me, which is the most laughable of all the ideas I’ve had.

I have so many questions that won’t get answered, and I’m starting to think that that’s okay.

I’ve been super depressed lately, and it’s definitely fucking with me, but I need to muscle through and try to be a person for a bit. I’m scared, but I think that just means I’m on the right path.

I think having all this time to myself has helped, or at least helped more than it’s hurt. I’ve had time to take stock of what’s important to me, I’ve cut down on my drinking, and I also have an incredible reason to not socialize with people I don’t like.

If it weren’t for this blog, Spotify, and vinyl records, I’d probably be be writing my manifesto in blood mixed with bourbon. Either that, or I’d be writing Tito’s campaigns and drinking scotch out the bottle in my bathrobe. Actually, that sounds like fun, I’m going to go do that now.

Creature Comforts

I tend to revisit things. I’ve been thinking about why, and I think it’s because I know what to expect. I know how the book ends, or how the album sounds, or what the dish tastes like. It’s comforting, and right now I kinda need comfort.

I try to try new things, but it’s really hard for me. I need to know what I’m getting myself into before I jump into something. Whenever I want to try something, I have to research the hell out of it before I try it, so I can mitigate any potential issues, and so I’m not going in blind. Now, that might sound boring to some people, but those people also say that you should just jump into things, and I think that’s fucking crazy. We’ve evolved as a species so that we don’t have to die because we ate a random plant that turned out to be toxic. We have to technology to research things, so what’s the harm in using it?

It’s important to be comfortable. It’s the time where we fully relax, and let our minds wander. That is super important right now. With thousands of people dying every day to something we can’t fight, we’ve been on edge for the last 9 months, so it’s important to find comfort wherever and whenever you can. Those few moments where we can sit back and take a breather might be the one thing that keeps us from doing something permanent.

So what makes you comfortable? I’m trying to start a discussion here, so comment below and share the wealth. You never know how much someone might need it.

Limbo

There is something special about the time between 12 and 4am. It’s like the world stands still, and everything is in limbo. I get my best work done during this time, I don’t know what it is about limbo, but it crystallizes my thoughts, and gives me a different perspective on life. Since the ‘Rona struck, I’ve been staying in my house and trying to ignore the constant suffering that seems to have bled into every aspect of life in 2020. At first, I thought that I would adapt, and thrive, but that isn’t the case anymore.

In order to keep from losing my mind even more, I’ve started looking for ways to get out of my head, which for the front half of the year meant mixing bourbon with more bourbon, and writing whatever came to mind. This worked for awhile, but like all things, the usefulness faded over time until I looked at that fucking blinking pixel I hate so much, and had nothing to say. As the weather got warmer, and my insomnia got worse, I needed to find ways to tire myself out. This is where I discovered limbo. It all started one night when I was having one of those days that turn into one of those nights, that turn into that delightful feeling where you stare at the clock at 3am and count down the hours, minutes, and seconds before you have to wake up and be a person again. Obviously, my ” Go to Sleep” cocktail of 20mg of melatonin, a 100mg edible, 6oz of Eagle Rare, and a Zzzquil wasn’t working. At around 3:30, I had an idea: get up and go for a jog. Now, since it was the dead of night, and I’m a degenerate, I figured it’d be fun to roll a joint for my jog, so I did, and after a half-mile and a gram, my eyes started to feel the much-needed embrace of sleep.

This went on for a few days in a row, until I realized that while I was trying to beat my brain into submission, some interesting things came out. First and foremost, I had to make a playlist that encapsulates how I felt, because life is so much better with a soundtrack. After making a 4-hour long “‘Rona Radio” playlist, I started thinking about why people are afraid of the dark. I think it’s because they are afraid of what’s out there, and as I walked around my safe upper-middle class neighborhood, I started thinking about how many people are ruled by the fear of the unknown. I know I definitely am, but the more I walk around at night, surrounded by bears and coyotes and God knows what else, I started to become less afraid. After a few more weeks of nightly walks, I became more comfortable walking around at night than during the day.

As quarantine continued, I started to look forward to these night walks, they were a stable, crystallizing moment of my day where I could think clearly for a change. I think there is something beautiful about night time: it’s incredibly peaceful to be able to walk around by myself and not be bothered by anyone, to have complete silence in a world where everything is so loud all the time.

I’ve been thinking about why this time is so special to me, and I think I can finally put it into words: this is where time stands still. Since most people are asleep, it seems like time freezes, which gives me time to stop and think. I need that now more than ever, and since I’ve had crazy bad sleep problems for a long time, I’m already up, so it fits together very nicely.

A Letter To High School Me

Hey Dipshit,

It’s you, 8 years in the future, and I’ve gotta say: you suck, and I’m glad I’m not you anymore. You had all of the opportunities in the world, but you squandered them because you thought smoking weed before practice made you cool. It didn’t. You had all the time in the world to figure yourself out and decide what you wanted out of life, and what did you do? You got stoned and played Fallout 3 for 600 hours instead of learning how to be a person. You have ruined so many things for us; we could’ve done something worthwhile, but you just HAD to be cool, you just HAD to convince other people that you knew what you were doing, and you don’t.

I want to say that things got better, but I’m pretty sure you know that’s bullshit. You always had to convince people that you were okay, and you aren’t, and literally everyone can see that you’re not okay, so stop joking around all the time to try and hide the fact that your miserable. It only gets worse.

I found our senior yearbook, and just, wow. You really blew something special because you weren’t satisfied with what you had. That girl is waaaaaaaaaaay better off without you, you should’ve noticed that nerdy artsy girl that was always into you, she would be perfect for you, but you’re still too busy being a shallow prick to realize that. Why are you the way that you are? Why do you wear band shirts for bands you don’t listen to? Why do you think that goatee looks good? Why do you think you can get away with not studying or doing any homework? You’ve gotten lucky your whole life, and you haven’t done anything to deserve any of the things you’ve been given.

Now, you’re not all bad. I genuinely think you have a bigger heart than I do. You definitely are better at talking to people than I am, you have a much less jaded view of the world, and you would give the shirt off your back for the people you care about. Enjoy it while it lasts, along with your hairline, your iPod touch, and your faith in humanity. You lose them all in 2 years.

Begrudgingly,

You.