Alright. Here's today.
1st: Found out, after 2 months of swimming almost every day and usually swimming at least a mile a day, that I have lost, quite literally, no weight. I weigh, today, exactly what I weighed the last time I weighed myself.
2nd: This girl that I'm kind of into at the moment agreed to go to this fun-sounding dance/exercise thing with me tonight. She didn't show. I called a couple times. No answer. She also did not ever call to apologize or give an excuse.
Why do I feel like the bad guy for being irritated about this?
3rd: Got rejected by the FDIC today. I currently have next to no job prospects and am just waiting for the letter of rejection from the Hutchinson firm. Surely that'll be coming in the next few days. How much fun will that be!
Look, I realize I'm kind of a douche bag. I know I throw just about as many impediments in my own way as anyone else might. But is this really my life?
God, even that sounds asinine. "Oh. Boo-hoo. Not everything in my life has been handed to me on a silver platter. Why doesn't everyone feel sorry for me?"
Maybe this is just one of those tired things. I already exercised tonight. I ate dinner. I watched humorous television shows. Typically, if none of those things work, I can go to sleep and everything will seem better in the morning.
Except this feels kinda different. Actually, a lot of my rants have been feeling different these days. Perhaps it has to do with my aging, but I'm slowly getting less weepy about life and more pissed off. I mean, sure, I've made mistakes. Every reader of this blog can attest to that. One even has recently.
But is that all there is? I make a few profound mistakes in life (another example, not getting good enough grades my 1L year) and I'm relegated to some sort of weird life that's a partial mix of has-been and never-had? I'm freaking 27! This is prime of my life territory! Why do so many things suck?
Maybe it's because of mornings. I go through an awful lot of my life content and patient. Except the fact of the matter is that content doesn't get you major life advancements. It doesn't get you a job. It doesn't get you a promotion. It doesn't get you a girlfriend. In the paraphrased (and made up) words of Freud, it doesn't get you laid.
And without those things, what is life? The collective purpose of humankind is to contribute to the whole through work and to procreate. I've managed to do neither of those things. I mean, it's not even close.
So here is to every single one of my friends. You, every single one of you, have managed to accomplish more in life than I. Kudos.
Alright. I guess that's enough of this pissed off rant that appears to be tinged with what might callously be called a mild self-loathing. As I do not consider myself a callous individual, I will choose to call it a frustration in efforts of self. Time to go to bed, so I can wake up and turn back into the nice, friendly, happy version of myself who will be embarrassed about this discourse.