talk about the passion

this has probably been one of the most shittiest weeks i’ve had in a long time. starting off with the insurance company fucking me over several times (and not using lube), and ending with me almost quitting my job, i guess nothing could get any worse. well, save for the fact i was to be in sf to finish working on the project we are doing for alice 97.3, and i didn’t hear my pager, my phone or anything going off to meet dave in the city. i didn’t roll out of bed until 3pm, nearly 14 hours after i crawled in. now it’s early sunday morning and my toes are freezing.
which to say isn’t a good thing.
however, on the bright side, justin cleaned the hell out of my printer, and now the smearing problem is gone. i can now write letters to people, which, i owe some to my mom mainly, and my main excuse for not writing was due to my printer not working properly. now all we need to do is get some rj-45 cable and a hub, and we are all set for our little network.
but what i have been worried about, in a more serious way, is passion. i’m not talking physical passion, i’m referring to passion of anything and everything. the way one likes/loves a movie, an object, a book, something. whatever, it does not matter: just passion. It could be the way you feel about a football team or a softdrink. well you get my point.
regardless, the situation at hand is that lately i’ve been feeling not as passionate. i can’t say how long i’ve been feeling this way, but, all i feel like is that my life revolves around getting up in the morning, going to work (after fighting with traffic for an hour), listen to people moan in the office, come home and go to bed. that’s my life. all the things i’ve been wanting to do or see haven’t been materializing themselves, and i feel hopeless.
i look at justin’s face, at my roommate filtering in and out of her busy social schedule, at the people i work with and their lives, and i still feel like something is missing. i don’t know what it is, i just do. i have never been able to explain the feelings that sometimes rise in my body, and sometimes i’m not able to clarify even when i do say something. i find myself almost on the verge of tears when i see wonderful things occurring around me, and i feel stale and lifeless.
i feel like the plants sitting on our front porch: thirsty for life.
my complete version of things does not always meet what everyone else see’s. mayhap for instance it’s not that i want to go to school to learn (which i do), it’s because i’m hungry for the experience of doing so. i’ve often felt cheated of what i have received in my life, and other times, i feel sickened by what i have let occur. my mind becomes this empty waste pot of nothingness, all because the choices i’ve made. it’s easier to fool yourself into believing you are happy then actually attempting to achieve it.
and justin wonder’s why i’m so ambitious.