For Shame

I’ve done some pretty ridicu­lous stuff in my time. Once, while show­ing off on a bike, I injured myself so badly that I required intense surgery on my knee. It was embar­rass­ing as hell. More recently, I was really excited about see­ing Lloyd and Michael play. Not that I had ever really heard them, or that any­one has. But I knew it must be good. Manta®, Bad­ger King, Dear Nora. How could it not be good? So, the embar­rass­ing, shame­ful part came because I was so excited. I wanted to let them (i.e. m. ritchey) know that I (peo­ple in gen­eral) were excited. Build up some antic­i­pa­tion for both of us. Right? So I leave a com­ment the night before. The next day there is a post semi about the music so I leave another com­ment think­ing I can delete the first and that this is a more appro­pri­ate place any­way. Then this hap­pens, which isn’t a huge deal, just embar­rass­ing. The best part is that we didn’t make it in time to see them play.

Then I cut my fin­ger with a damn x-acto knife. THIS HAS NEVER HAPPENED TO ME. I felt like an idiot. It is almost healed all the way now and I’m begin­ning to get over it, but I felt so ridicu­lous at the time.

All of that is noth­ing com­pared to today. The most shame­ful. Last night, we had a crazy intense dance party (by that I mean I was way too excited danc­ing to gangsta rap while every­one watched). Suf­fice it to say, it was awe­some. The shame came today when I woke up. I AM IN SO MUCH PAIN. My lower back is all jacked. I’m 22! This isn’t sup­posed to hap­pen until I’m 65 or some­thing. So today I’ve been wad­dling around, feel­ing absolutely ridicu­lous. Try­ing to act like it’s nothing.