I never know what to write about, or even if I want to write. I have nothing to do today though, so I'll write. I don't know what to write about and I can't stress that enough.
I don't have any hobbies. I have a ukulele, a bass, a piano, a PlayStation, a Nintendo Switch, computer games, workout equipment, books, and more books. I live where many people are driven to do things like go to the gym, or fix up an old car. I've lost my childhood curiosity. I'm curious about things but with the internet around, it's like getting one word texts from a potential love interest. Yesterday, I thought I'd like to save up to buy a house. I downloaded an app, looked up prices in my hometown and got distracted by another app. I am no longer saving to buy a house.
Unfortunately, I may be at another point where I've done some things here and there and the thought that I will never be great at them is enough to deter me from trying. I will not say that I am well-traveled. I've never been out of the U.S. I will not say that I am well-educated. I was a B and C student. I still am. I've dabbled and can confidently say that I am confident in nothing. Even as I write now, I worry that I am not being clear and concise. I worry that my sentences are not punctuated properly, that my language is crude and unreadable. Is it relatable? I've certainly used "I" too many times. I'm bound to use it many more.
I was watching Better Things, a FX show hosted on Hulu about a single (divorced) mother of three girls. In this particular episode, Sam, the main character, has friends over for drinks. They are having a good time when the conversation takes the slightest turn for a not so fun turn, when Sam's daughter, the eldest of the three, breaks into the conversation. She is sitting in the room through the whole thing. She listens to the men and women around the room talk about how they have screwed things up. I don't remember exactly but the girl, I think her name is Max, breaks in at not only a weird time, but in a way that creates an awkward silence for the others in the room.
She says, looking to the floor in embarrassment, something like "I don't know what I'm doing with my life." After a short pause, Sam jumps in to defend her daughter from her dark thoughts. I thought it was heartwarming but I guess the way she spoke to her daughter was wrong. A man in the room, sitting somewhere in the circle of people, gives a look to Sam, shuts her up.
Her daughter continues, "I feel like an idiot, spending all my time on social media while my friends are studying, spending time getting smarter in the things that matter. I'm a failure." This goes on, the camera panning to everyone's sympathetic expressions. Finally a woman, Sam's manager or something, gives Max a speech. She consoles her by telling the story of how she went through the same thing when she was Max's age and how she's still going through it now. Sam begins to cry. She's touched. Max feels better as everyone goes around the room, telling how they each have gone through the same thing.
I feel touched by this, and maybe it has something to do with my own negative attitudes or the fact that I don't have such a large support group as characters do on sitcoms, but Max's feelings before she was comforted, as she's on the verge of crying herself, imprinted on me much more substantially than after. I was not comforted by the talk. It made me feel worse.
And it usually goes like that. Maybe I need a break from TV. I've deleted social media. I felt myself thinking "you don't have it anymore. Stop checking your phone" at first. Now I have more time to think about other things. I never know what to write about. I torture myself by thinking about it. I guess I'll never figure it out, a page at a time.
