Flop

The party was a flop. In hindsight it was to be expected, really. After all, two weeks ago they tried to have the same party and the cops came around with clubs to chase everybody out. That is not really the best reputation to have associated with your party, I’m sure. Last time the Silent Noise team had the party they had gone through more than half their headsets by twelve o’clock; this time around they didn’t go through half their headsets all night.

One of the emotions I hate most has to be boredom and last night I was bored. The people that had invited us down had set up the headset station away from the party, so we couldn’t even look at the people dance. Instead we were forced to spend the whole night reflecting about why things weren’t working and how we had nothing to do. And it was a long night. I was only able to finally crash out in the cab back down south, at six in the morning.

If I have a choice in the matter I’m not going up to the next party they have up there. I’d rather sit somewhere quiet and try to work on the things that I really should be doing; writing, completing my university application and studying.

Of course I say that now. The truth of the matter is that I’m finding it very hard recently to actually be on my own. I guess that has always been the case, but these last few weeks I’ve become keenly aware of my need for other people around me.

Does that mean I have demons that I’m just not willing to deal with? Possibly. Is it interfering with me getting the things done that I’m supposed to be getting done? Definitely.

I know it sounds silly, but I’m starting to feel like I need a vacation to recover from my vacation. Of course I’m not sure if you can call what I’m doing a vacation. I mean, all in all I’ve been working pretty steadily for the last six months.

I find it quiet amazing how the people around me are satisfied doing as little as they are doing. To me that just seems, well, wasteful. I never seem to be able to forget that a clock is ticking away in the background; that the egg timer of my life creeping towards zero. I’m constantly driven to do things for fear of the guilt that I might feel at the end.

I’ve known for a while that I’m motivated by guilt more than anything else. Specifically, the guilt of not using what I’ve got to make a difference. I guess the real problem isn’t so much that I don’t do enough, but more that I just don’t really know what I’m supposed to be doing and as a result am trying to do it all.