The Badly Written Sitcom

And on this occasion, it did.

They say we don’t choose our friends, they choose us, but after a fateful incident involving shit and cigarettes, i have, for several years now have formed a bond with a couple of people that has been rivaled very rarely in my short and unstoried life.

“you will always be wesley annd I will always be spike.” i told that to him in my home away from home months before it all happened. To those who aren’t familiar to thee reference, let mme first enlighten you with a minor geek moment. Wesley Wyndham Price and Spike aka Willliam The Bloody are both supporting characters from the Joss Whedon created TV show Buffy the vampire slayer and its eventual spin-off, Angel. The two polar personalities have never really interacted until Angel’s final season, and they have had entirely individual storylines, noticing each other only to hurl stinging barbs and of course, “fight that evil.” Spike is one of the most popular characters from the mythology, a vampire notorious for evil acts second only to the title character, Angel, who sacrified unlife and limb and underwent several tortures to regain his soul only to be worthy of a girl’s attention. Fool for love, as he is often described, Spike has always acted on impulse, motivated bby his own needs, and generally perceived as a selfish prick the shows’ population while winning a loyal fan base from the viewership because of his lack of respect, love for Dru and Buffy, and for always doing things with a traademark smirk and style. Wesley, on the other hand, is a disgraced Watcher who has gained the admiration of people in and out of thee show for always doing what needs to be done for the greater good, no matter what the cost. as opposed to Spike’s impulsiveness, Wesley is driven and analytical, often to the point of machine like coldness. Wesley takes the blows and rolls with the punches while the others bask in the glory.

He and I, we’re as different as the two fictional chharacters, and yet I know without a doubt that life would never be as good if he, and she for that matter, were not around. He counters my irrational urges and blatantly stupid decisions with logical reasoning and military like seriousness. My “sense of adventure” with his sense of direction. In hindsight, I would’ve fallen into unreachable depths had he not been there to be the anchor in the stormy seas of youth.

And on the moment when I was needed the most, when the proverbial shit hit the proverbial fan I was nowhere to be found. I was having my adventures and basking in the glory while he took blows that caused him, HIM, to break. As I said, it happens to the best of us, and it did. That I regret. That i shall correct.

And then we shall ride again and be the best that we could be in the face of the countless demons that this world endlessly produces.

PS ed, the girl who did the testimonial is not my girlfriend. Just a running gag at work. FYI.

One of the best things I’ve ever learned in life is to never expect anything. Never. At all. Not even if the hypothetical expectation roots from circumstances that only point to a singular likelihood, I stop, breathe deep, and come up with a hundred or so completely logical fucked-up scenarios that would botch any hopes of hope. Because hope, expectations, they can kill you faster than popping valiums like M&Ms. Believing in nothing has kept me sane (relatively) over the past few years and has helped me create the comfortable little existense i have one, one free from any form of responsibility and restrictions. Glamourless, maybe, but who needs glamour when you can boldly act like a 16 year old college alcoholic and get away with it smelling like roses?

But somehow someone up there figures its funny to throw a wrench in the gears of my perfect little life and BAM! On my lap is an opportunity to rekindle a part of me that has long ago packed its bags and moved on to a better place. An opportunity that would ruin the very fabric of utter simplicity my current lifestyle offers with a promisee of something that by definition is more worthwhile, more ennriching, more, dare I say, blog-worthy…

I’m not a very big fan of hard work. i’m not ashamed to admit that. I am the underachiever of underachievers. Why? Because achieveing is just too fucking hard. I’m a quick learner, if certain activity hurts or takes too long or to hard to acccomplish, be sure as hell, I aint doing it again.

But now… it’s all coming back, you know. The drama, the fairy tales, the big flashing lights of common sense saying stop as i give it the finger and dive head first into a new old trritory and I’m all a bunch contradictory emotions, but in the end, in the bitter end, there will be no apologies, considering nothing has ever been in my control, there will be no explanations, considering that the very words escape me, hard as it is to believe, and there will be no turning back. Pain I can handle, as long as it can be erased by my usual poison.

So I do what usually do, sit back and let the world end itself and remake itself, and wait until its remade in my image.