I should really have a topic for that, shouldn't I? It seems to feature in far too many of my posts. Actually, I suppose it would have been a decent title for the blog, particularly if Sheri featured more frequently in it.
But yeah, I didn't get a job I really wanted, nor have I gotten any of the other jobs I'm remotely qualified for, and now it seems like I'm going to wind up going back and doing more theatre because I can't get a fucking job anywhere else. Don't get me wrong, I know the economy is shit. Boy do I know. And I know I should be grateful that I have a job of some sort to fall back on, except it's not much of a job and it certainly doesn't pay the bills.
So anyway, the point is that over the weekend I was in an extremely bad mood. Not mopey, rather destructive. Maybe it's because I haven't gotten to tear down a set in a long time. I don't know. But talking to Sveta, getting some time with Dad, watching TV until my brain leaked out of my ears, nothing was doing anything to improve my basic desire to kick someone in the stones. I suppose that pissed and violent is a more productive and healthy mood than the depths of depression, but still.
I was no fun to be around, so I went out and got absolutely hammered. Hammered to the point of hiccuping. Spent rather more than I had planned at a bar, then bought a veritable jug of vodka and wandered around taking slugs from it. Didn't help at all, by the way; self-medication is not the answer, and I'm not just saying that as a public service announcement.
Being near a college as I am, it makes it really easy to wind up in someone's dorm room. I know I have on numerous occasions, not really since I came back from college, but certainly when I was still in school. I didn't want to go back home trashed, and while I was perfectly aware of how much my life sucked, it was easy for me to use whatever excuse I could come up with to show up at a party and offer up the remainder of my vodka as a peace offering (I'm making a joke here about town-gown relations; I could have showed up with no booze and this lot wouldn't have given a shit).
This was the first time I'd been to a college party since college. I do not slum it up in the college nearby. Honestly, I'm not that into the college scene. Others disagree, but me, I was happy to be no longer in college. But sometimes, there are things I miss. And as drunk as I was, I guess the missing these things took over. Well, for one, when I was in college, I didn't have to worry about not being able to find a job and my life being a dead end. So yeah, there's that.
It wasn't on campus, to my credit; it was one of the apartments pretty much taken over by college students who didn't want to live in dorms. Just a large house really. Reminded me of my college housing, which was essentially a large house. And the party was jumping, to the point where I'm surprised the police weren't called. Nobody knew me, but nobody cared. And I didn't know anyone. Again, I'd just like to say that this was totally out of character for me, and I feel really ashamed of doing it, honestly. I mean, if I were at Sveta's college and she invited me to a party or something, it'd be different. I was crashing a college party. What I was thinking is debatable. I can't give you an in-depth psychoanalysis because I wasn't totally there at the time.
I'm not sure how many people were there, but there were enough to get lost in the crowd. I made drunken conversation, was invited to dance by a number of people, including two girls. I danced, I drank some more, I remained painfully aware that I was out of my element and shouldn't have been there and all that, but that part of my brain, while present, was unable to exercise any control.
Wound up making out on the couch with an equally drunk guy, slipping my hand into his pants and groping him, and then we staggered off to a quieter corner and I gave him a terrible blowjob which he didn't seem to mind, judging by the speed with which he came in my mouth. I wanted to get fucked, bad, at that point, but it wasn't that type of party. And I felt unpleasant and was hiccuping somewhat uncontrollably, to the point where I was worried about throwing up, which I don't do, so I left.
I know you all were hoping for a sexy story, but basically, I just did stupid things and didn't get anything out of it. I went home and it wasn't even that late. I don't know, maybe the party started being that type of party later, and I missed it. Probably not. Despite what you might see in porn, college parties are not all orgies.
I told Sveta about it and she didn't understand why I feel so bad about it. But I do, because that's not me. I'm just going stir-crazy and wondering, despite how good some of my life is, if I'm ever going to make a contribution to the world beyond being easy. I don't know what I want to do with my life, I have no great aspirations, but at the same time I'm tired of being a loser. My friends from college, my family, everyone is making something of themselves, and me, I'm just sitting here waiting to cum.
Sorry, I'm venting a bit. No need to be sympathetic; I've brought most of this on myself. Doesn't make it any easier to bear though, does it?
Some news, however; it is in the cards to visit Sveta soon, so hopefully that will be a fun time that can be recounted more sexily. And to those who have asked, yes, I'm still going to let Sveta read this blog, it just hasn't been a good time. If I told her now, she wouldn't have the time to read it anyway, and I don't want to burden her brain with something non-essential. I am not sheltering her. I can't wait for her to read it and see what she thinks. But at this point, it's like telling someone I've written a novel (not a reflection of its quality, mind you, just its length); it's too long for light reading. Hell, I've written several novels. I don't expect anyone to read them.
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