You can learn a lot about a person
by reading their blog. Or at least I hope you can, because for this very brief moment in history, everybody I know has one. About half the people I've made social contact with in, let's say the past 72 hours, I was just able to go through and read exactly what they were thinking when last we met.
Well, okay, not exactly. Let's face it, if that were true, if everybody's blogs and journals consisted of exactly what they were thinking
, their uncensored highlights interior monologues, it would either be the most boring thing in the world, or it would be too good to be true and we would never stop reading. Probably a combination of both.
Unless it were my blog, in which case, on the average day, you'd learn not a damn thing.
We're all driven by our wants and needs. T-Murder
wants to get laid. Tom
wants his mysterious identical twin to stop
getting laid. Hosemonster
wants somebody to hire him. Tony
wants somebody to hire him to do what he does for free every day. Alecia
doesn't want a long term committment, wait, no she does, wait, yes she doesn't. People don't have to put this in banner headline across the top of their pages for you to get it. But tonight I realized, reading this, unless you know me personally you probably know fuck all about why I get out of bed in the morning.
People are always doing getting to know you type surveys, so here's the official HFT comprehensive everything-you-never-wanted-to-know-but-weren't-afraid-to-ask one-question survey to end all surveys:
What do you want?
Thought you'd never ask.
I want to be a writer.
I would like to get to a point in my life where my day job consisted of what goes on between me and the keyboard. Plays, screenplays, short fiction and long. I don't think it's too arrogant of me to say that at some point I might be able to make a go of it.
I also want to act in whatever venue, professionally. And direct, for both stage and screen. Time was all I wanted to do was be a movie director. But my tastes expanded, and rather than change my one overriding goal I just sort of...added to it. And now, of course, I feel like I'm overloading my plate at the buffet of Life's Passions, and who the hell knows if I'll ever be able to eat all this. Some people couldn't honestly name one thing they wanted to do for the rest of their lives, and here I am, in typical arrogant-douchebag style, with three or four. But as I've said many times, it's not like I want to be a pearl-diver and curate the Whitney Museum. My career choices are all kind of in the same arena, that is to say, the Arena of Touchy-Feely Drama Crap.
Of course, while I picked out a bunch of possible careers I also had to pick out the hardest ones to succeed in, where most of the time it's not how good you are, it's who you know. I won't have a good fallback career. But it's not a feeling I'm unaccustomed to, by any stretch. Most of my life is improvised, and my back-up plan always reads something like, "Uhm...change my name and try again, I guess." Breathe in, breathe out, and here goes.
I want my blog to load quicker, goddammit.
I hope this is just a temporary phenomenon. Oh also, I want to know exactly what to write in here every time I sit down. As opposed to never knowing what to write, which is really starting to get tiresome.
I want to get married, someday.
And kids. Maybe this is a weird instinct for an eighteen-year-old male to have. I'm not saying I want that right now, or in the forseeable future, in fact, there's nothing I'd like less. They would just put a damper on my swingin' bachelor M.O. But sometime around thirty or thirty-five, I want to have this being-an-individual thing down pat enough where I can stop worrying about myself for once and start working on minions...I mean, uh, kids. I blame Lileks
for this. He glorifies the house-husband lifestyle like it was sex or violence.
I want game.
I talk a good game about having game, but let’s face it, B, I got no game. There's apparently a stage after casual flirting, and I know I've been there but lord knows I can never retrace my steps. To flog a painfully overused sports-cliche, I can never take it to "the next level." I need someone to draw me a diagram. I need that guy in the Navy commercials on the deck of an aircraft carrier with the incandescent vest and the big orange wands, waving in the jets like he was conducting the London Philharmonic. I need that guy to wave me in. Give me the "OK" sign. I need game.
I want a vehicle where the radio stays at one constant volume.
Instead of one where sometimes it's rattling the windows of the cars around me, and then I go over a speedbump and suddenly it turns off and can't be resurrected. But then I'll be having a heart-to-heart conversation with someone while I'm driving them home...
"So I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm willing to leave my modeling career behind and have me and my nymphomaniac twin move in with you. I guess what I'm trying to say, DC, is that I love--" (radio crackles to life) ONE WEEK ONLY SALE AT AUDIO EXPRESS YOUR HOME home home OF THE ONE DOLLAR INSTALL
"Wait, what was I saying?"
Yea, that would be nice.
I want someone to go to movies with.
I want to be a better person.
I just want someone to bite my earlobes.
Is that so much to ask?