I Have Become the Emo Kid I Hate

Dear Journal. Mood: Apathetic.

I woke up today in a gutter covered in my own vomit, shaking to stay warm. Hahahaha false. I woke up in my robe on my couch with my heat turned up to between "Cuba" and "Hell."

Either way, I sat down at my internet machine and suddenly drew a blank. Why? Because I realized that I suddenly have no hobbies. I have two tabs open. One for gmail, the other for facebook. I can tab between these two. I remember a day not too long ago when I had to tab through a handful of LSU or Saints articles. Now those days are gone.

So I sit here, brain still rattling from potent potables, wondering where the day will take me. I could go for a drive, just drive a hundred miles in one direction until the static obscures all the Baltimore radio stations. I do that sometimes, as an illusion that if I’m too far for radio, I’m too far for my pager to reach me (FALSE YOUR PAGER IS ACTIVE NATIONWIDE). I thought about buying a video game then got depressed at the thought that younger versions of me are probably dominating right now and I would just be padding their way to 8^th Prestige. Baltimore is finally silent. For those of you not acquainted, at night it roars with the sounds of The Wire mixed with a shitty J Lo dubstep remix. Sometimes I stand on my deck and marvel at the acoustic nightmare below me, the crisp winter air punctured by screaming, sirens, the staccato churning of the police helicopter rotor, and by what I imagine stab wounds sound like. It’s all there, waiting for me. It will soon roar again, however, because the Texans will be here and Baltimore will curbstomp the Texans. People will be happy. Fact: I hate happiness. If I had to power rank all the emotions I hate the most it would be:

1. Happiness

2. Happiness

3. Happiness

4. Sadness

5. Whatever makes non-cowboys wear cowboy hats because that shit is stupid.

6. Whatever emotion I felt at the end of “Gladiator” that made me cry (which is also the last time I cried tears and not blood)

So, in other words, I’m going to be pissed.

I’ve also run out of hobbies. Someone asked me once what my hobbies were. I said “aww shit I got so many hobbies” and they said like what and I had to think about it. I really only had one, and it was watching football with a double major in “College” and “NFL” and minors in “LSU” and “Saints.” I have since renounced these. Now before you jump all over my ass about how I'm a fair-weather fan do two things. First, understand the follow:

Will I ever say I am not a fan of these teams? No.

Will I deny their existence? No.

But can I do what I have done in so many years past? Also, no.

Why? Cause here's the second thing coming straight at you, and that thing is called SCIENCE. Booyakacha: http://www.jhsph.edu/bin/k/u/5_20_08_JC.pdf. ( Wilbert-Lampe, Leistner, and et al 475-83)

For those of you about to say tl;dr, I'll give you the Sparknotes version (cause Cliff Notes costs money and Sparknotes back in the day were FO FREEEEE):

1. Do you have risk factor for a heart attack? OH YEAH GOTTA CATCH 'EM ALL.

2. Do you watch stressful sporting events? Yes (they used the World Cup, but seriously, SEC football is so much more important and stressful).

Conclusion: If you think your heart is exploding in your chest, science says it probably is. And as much as this is a suicide watch diary, there is still a little voice inside that begs me to live. So for that little guy, I have to walk away. As the guy from The Walking Dead said in Love Acutally, “ It’s… a self-preservation thing…you see. (cue shitty Dido song).” DON'T REMEMBER THAT SCENE, BRAH? LET ME REFRESH YOUR MEMORY PARTS (@4:23): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MG1_a8RZ_bs

So, I leave it up to you, friends. Find me a hobby. Cause if you don’t, well (fill in something super emo and dramatic)

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Wilbert-Lampe, Ute, David Leistner, et al. " Cardiovascular Events during World Cup Soccer." New England Journal of Medicine. 358.5 (2008): 475-83. Web. 15 Jan. 2012.