A Sour Mood

Sour is a funny word. Whenever my mom's family has a gathering, I have an aunt that always asks if you want sweet tea or sour tea. She's really kind of peculiar acting, but in a very fun and friendly kind of way. And she says "sire", just like the rest of us backwoods people do. Anyway, every time I hear that word, that's what I think of.

But sour is probably a good definition of today. I'm probably actually a little bitter that something more dramatic didn't happen today (not too dramatic, mind you--just something to piss me off a little), just because I feel like I'm precariously balanced between a shitty day and an okay day. And while a shitty day sucks worse, it does give me a lot more to write about. When I feel like this, I feel like I'm in neutral emotionally, standing still, watching life pass me by. It angers me that I have nothing to be angry about, yet at the same time, I haven't really been able to develop any sense of happiness or fulfillment. Maybe that's expecting a lot from a day, but this has just been one of those blah days--we lose a fucking hour of our lives and it puts my fucking world out of sorts.

I went to my buddy's house today to watch the race. I didn't want a beer, but he finally talked me into it about four o'clock or so. He was inviting his neighbors over in celebration of the neighbor's birthday, and they all peer-pressured me into staying for dinner and cake. Sam is turning 59 on Monday, and he wanted me to hang around and drink. Whenever I got my undergrad degree, they threw me a little party, and Sam (he's the fucking devil) made me take about 8 straight shots of Drambuie (which he kept calling Jim Bowie). If you've never had a shot of Drambuie, then consider yourself blessed. Not good, not good at all. Needless to say, I followed that beer with several others before I managed to leave.

So we're hanging out, and Sam is flying a kite with his granddaughter, and all of their wives are in another neighbor's yard working in a flowerbed and talking. My buddy and I are sitting on the tailgate of my buddy's truck, and he starts asking me when I needed to be home, etc. I told him soon, and whether it was the tone or a facial expression--I don't know--but he inquired as to how things were going, stating that I didn't act like I wanted to go home. He said I seemed a bit out of it today, quieter than usual, reflective (my word, not his--it seemed much clearer than "like you've been thinking about shit"). School work, I reply. It's getting to be that time of the semester. Which it is, in all truthfulness. Or maybe it's just depressing to sit drinking a beer, knowing that leaving my buddy's house means I'm that much closer to colliding with the reality that is my meaningless existence. And this is not a anti-marriage post. That's not what I'm thinking now or what I was thinking then. It's just that I wish I could spend more time doing things I liked, but only when I like to do them. I don't want to read scholarly fucking journals about Shakespeare or anything else. Not today. Not this week. I left feeling a bit bummed out. He asked me if I wanted to go to his lake house and fish. I think I might. Or maybe that would just give me more time to reflect, which is probably not what I should be doing.

Today has been a really sad day, but for no good reason. Not sad in a fucking boo-hoo kind of way--just very somber. Very much a let-down. Very much a downer. Or maybe it's because I finished Tender is the Night today, and it is a fucking downer. Maybe I'll do a short review, but then again, I find it difficult to read reviews, much less write them. In a nutshell, the book is about a guy that is fun and cool and suddenly he falls in love with a younger girl (Rosemary). His wife (Nicole) is a former mental patient. The ending is very tragic in that he winds up a drunken failure who has lost all of his former coolness. Everyone pities him, and he's left alone and unloved. What a fucking bummer.

So I picked up Sedaris again, hoping to find something worthy enough to drag me out of this fucking funk. This sucks.

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To make matters worse, as I was heading off to bed, I just remembered the letter of recommendation I was writing for an instructor which needs to be submitted Tuesday. Which I need to turn in tomorrow. So I'll try to finish that before I can finally end this complete asswhip of a day.