Life Still Sucks

Let me just say that I’m rather frickin’ depressed lately. I mean, not clinically. But I’m dejected, at any rate.

I feel so undesirable it’s not even funny. First of all, I need a haircut. When I don’t get a haircut, my hair starts to slowly poof out to the sides, because it’s curly. If I went long enough without a haircut, it would become an afro. I have horrible memories of being in elementary school, when the frequency of my haircuts was controlled by my mom. In my fifth-grade picture I have such a huge afro. Of course, my dad likes to refer to it as a Jewfro.

I’m going to get a haircut tomorrow evening, right after therapy and right before Twentysomething.

I have no idea what’s going on with Wes. We haven’t seen each other since the night of Friday, September 7.

On Saturday 9/8 he went on vacation for a week.

On Monday 9/17 he returned from vacation, but that day I went home to my parents’ house for three nights because of Rosh Hashannah.

On Thursday night, 9/20, I saw “The Producers.”

On Friday night, 9/21, I went out to dinner with my family.

Early Saturday morning, 9/22, I went to Richmond for Doug’s memorial service. I got back late Sunday night, 9/23.

On Monday night, 9/24, Wes and I talked on the phone and made plans to get together the following night.

The following night, Tuesday, 9/25, Wes came down with strep throat. That lasted through Thursday, 9/27.

On the nights of Friday, 9/28, and Saturday, 9/29, he had tickets to see the Yankees.

When we’d talked on Tuesday, I told him I hoped he felt better soon, and I said, “I guess we’ll talk on the weekend and make plans for next week when you’re better.” Then he assured me that we’d probably talk before the weekend.

He never called.

Finally, last night, I called him to say hi and see how he was doing. I pointedly decided not to bring up the question of when we’d next hang out, because I wanted to wait and see if he’d bring it up. Eventually, he did. Apparently he’s busy until later in the week, though. So he said he’d call me later in the week and we could figure out when to get together.

Those first three weeks I can understand, because first he was away, and then either I was busy with something or he was busy with something. But you’d think that if he really wanted to see me, we’d set something up concrete, right? And maybe he’d call me when he was free? Like, for instance, yesterday? But no. He didn’t.

The crazy thing here is, I don’t think I want to date him anyway. But I want him to like me. See, I don’t want to hurt him, but I don’t want him to hurt me either. Why am I concerned about being rejected by someone whom I don’t think I want to date in the first place? I don’t get it. This is screwy.

So there’s that.

Meanwhile, I’ve called World Trade Center Boy twice in the last week and left messages on his voicemail, and he hasn’t returned either of those calls.

Chat rooms aren’t giving me what I want lately, either.

At least there’s some friends, though. There’s CanadaGirl. And there’s Nick. And there’s also the guy whom I met at the Phoenix before my long all-night walk up Park Avenue. We were supposed to meet outside the Strand on Saturday afternoon, but he never showed up. We talked today, and apparently he’d just missed a train and by the time he got there I was gone. So we’re going to hang out next Saturday night, maybe.

At least I have some friends in New York. Seems like I have to find them all offline, though.

I’m sorry. I’m just unhappy about several things. I don’t like my apartment or my job. I don’t know where I want to live, though, so I can’t seem to make a decision on that front. Do I want to stay in Jersey City? Do I want to move to Manhattan? Do I want to move further out into the suburbs? Do I want to live alone? Do I want to have a roommate? Do I want to have a car or not? I don’t know. I just have no fire for life right now.

Jersey City depresses me lately. Then again, so does Manhattan.

Also, I think I’m reading the newspaper too much. I subscribed to the Times on paper because I thought it would bring some stability to my life. But unfortunately I’m reading it on the PATH in the morning instead of reading a book. I should read a book instead, like I’ve done for the past year. When you read a book, you can escape. When you read a newspaper, you can’t escape. Also, the New York Times is bulky and comes in too many sections. It’s annoying to read on the train.

I need to escape. I should read books again on the train.

I wish my commute was longer, though, so I’d have more time to read. So maybe I should move to Manhattan after all.

No choices seem good. Every choice seems to have a down side.

On a good note, I listened to the cast album of “tick, tick… BOOM!” three times in a row tonight. The music is awesome.

I have no food in my fridge. I don’t know why.

The light grows dimmer. It gets chillier. It gets darker earlier. I used to love this time of year. Lately, I greatly dislike it.

I’m not happy these days. I can only imagine that somehow, things will get better.

But I sort of feel like I want to stew. Or like I have to.