A Busyful Mind

Hello again, world. My name is Jayme.
Just in case you have forgotten since last time.
I don't know why you would have. It's right up there at the top of the page.

I have many things on my mind currently. Some of them are old issues that I was really feeling passionate about weeks ago, so the fire inside me to speak about them may be out, and some of them are current musings on stuff brought on by alcohol.

First of all, I should probably tell you that I made the most amazing dinner tonight. A portobello mushroom and provolone burger (don't get too excited, I bought them at Ralph's) with sliced mozzarella, ketchup, and mayonnaise. Along with a side of mashed potatoes that I...wait for it...MADE FROM SCRATCH. Now this may not seem like a big deal to some of you. Maybe you've helped Grandma in the kitchen every Thanksgiving until she died, but guess what I DIDN'T so suck it. I've never made mashed potatoes from scratch before. But I looked at the contents of my fridge, I said, "I'm hungry", and I decided that mashed potatoes were on the menu. It took some finagling and lots of garlic chopping and some mashing, but it was finally done and they tasted pretty damn good. Lots of red pepper flakes, garlic (duh, I already said that), salt, pepper, mexican cheese, and sour cream. Mmmmmmmmmmmmm. Good thing I made so much that I'll have leftovers for the rest of time. Cause that's exactly how long I want to eat them.
And eating them conjured up such pleasant memories of my first Helen Hayes Awards, in which I was nominated, and they had a mashed potato bar pre-show. It. Was. Mouthgasmic.
Ugh. Yum. Yup, it took me right back to that night.

And I devoured all these yummy big boy treats while drinking a beer and watching episode 8 of Freaks and Geeks, a great show that everybody in the world seems to have seen and says its pretty good, so I'm finally checking it out. In this episode, the main male lead (pretty much), Sam, at one point says, "I've already got two friends. How many more friends does a guy need?!" While endearing and funny because of how naive it sounds, it really made me miss the days of being a kid. Back in the days of elementary/middle school when sometimes, you really only had one or two friends. And every day afterschool it wasn't a question of "who am I going to hang out with?" it was more, "I wonder what we're going to do today." And when the answer was: hang out at someone's house for 3/4/5 hours playing some dumb board game while trying to figure out what you're going to do. And that you only had those two friends (give or take a friend and a half or two)! I think I'm really nostalgic...or maybe just mournfully envious, of people who have a really tight clique of friends that they've been with forever. I feel like I'm naturally predisposed to just making lots of surface level friends rather than a few really good ones, who I know backwards and forwards and can share anything with. And I'm not talking about girl friends or friends who are girls. I mean like a close-knit group of GUY friends. I don't know what it was, something about that line just made me feel all, "awww. Friends." I don't know, maybe I'm crazy and aren't seeing things as they are. But there are certain people that I want to just get to know better and hang out with, but I repel from them for whatever reason. Whether I'm too scared that I'll fuck it up or whether I'm afraid they won't like me or whether I'm afraid they'll just make me feel like shit. I don't consciously think or feel these things, they just seem to be quietly poisoning me and my friendships from my subconscious out.

Anywaaaaaaaaaaaaaay, I'm getting tired of writing and I am looking forward to this next beer, so I'll try and keep this next talking point short-ish, if I can help it.
I had a thought the other day that I adhere too strongly to rules. I'm a perfectionist about some things in my life, and in those things, I do, I follow the rules WAY too closely. I'm a good boy. I don't really break the rules. But when it comes to things that I don't care about, I'm fucking James Dean. And it occurred to me the other day that...I've got to stop following the rules. Isn't there something out there that says, "Learn all the rules so you can break them"? Well, I've learned the rules, and I'm starting to think I need to say fuck it to the rules and just be myself. We as a species are attracted to unpredictable things. Things that are exciting because almost ANYTHING could happen around them. And it's similar in acting too. The actors who are the most interesting to watch are the ones who follow impulses night after night and don't deliver lines the same exact way every single show. I don't know if this theory I'm cooking up really applies to acting, but either way, I think I want to stop following rules, whether socially implied or directly given, more and start just doing what I feel like doing. As long as what I feel like doing doesn't hurt anybody or suck, I should be fine and dandy, right?
I'm a badass now. Get used to it.
Well, I mean I was before too, you just didn't notice because you were too DUMB.
Booya. That's the new badass Jayme. Like it? Don't care. Didn't ask if you did.
Well okay I did. But you know what else I did. TELL YOU TO SHUT UP.
When did I do that, you ask yourself, dumbly. Right now.
Shut up, silent reader!

Just kidding, I love you, SR.
Be my friend?

DOUBLE JUST KIDDING. FUCK YOU, SR. That's a dumb abbreviation, anyway!
Who gave you it, YOUR MAMMY?!
Alright, this has gone on long enough and I'm sure it is not as amusing to read as it is to write. And that last bit got a little racially charged, so it's best to nip that in the bud before it grows into a tall, mighty Racist Redwood Tree. Or "Native American"-wood Tree, as they would have you call it.

Alright then. That was stupid. Haha
Goodnight Cleveland!
Rabble Rabble Rabble Rabble Rabble