Thursday, May 23, 2013


I am 31. Have been for two days.

it seems to be such an arbitrary distinction to make myself to be. As thou this age has no meaning. And to be honest it really doesn't. But the only way this age seems meaningful to me is that i'm now older than most of the characters that i write.

For years my stories have been of young men in their late twenties, that are alone in someway. Be it a choice of solitude, or from some meaningful relationship with a friend or loved one. And the part that always made me laugh in derision at my own odd little stupidity is: i've never been alone. Except for now. And it doesn't make me as sad as i always thought it might. I dont feel anywhere near what i projected onto my characters or what i thought i might feel.

The realization of being alone came when i started my new job at a video game store and my boss asked me to put someone down as my emergency contact, i thought of my roommate, Ness, but with him somewhere on the other side of the world, he'd be less than useless if say, i broke my arm. (Knock on wood.) Yes, Ness will be back in a few months and we'll live in this dog piss stained house for awhile, but for now i have no one. And i had to tell my boss so. My words to him were: "I dont really have anyone to put down. I honestly dont have a friend within 2000 miles." My boss (who i think is only 2 to 3 years younger than me) gave me a sad little look, which i found comical, i told him so too.

But i'm not sad, or feel abandoned, i'm never far from contact from anyone in California. Plus, the major thing that keeps my head up is the fact at anytime if i so deem Virginia to be inhabitable pretty much everyone in CA would welcome me back. My parents have told me numerous times if i need to "come home" they'll let me in, and so has a few friends. It's an offer that i truly love and am grateful for, but it's my hope that i never have to take them up on it.

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