Cautionary Tale

In many ways, I represent the exact opposite of how someone is supposed to lead a life. I've already reached certified "Public Service Announcement (PSA)" status when it comes to what happens when you drink too much (vomit on other people's shoes), drink too much and sleep too little (vomit on your own shoes), and eat too many deep-fried chili peppers (I'll leave that to your imagination). And last night, I reminded myself again why I'm the worst kind of cautionary tale: the kind that doesn't caution me to change anything at al.

Here's rule number one: when you buy an external hard drive for your computer and decide to put every visual and aural artifact from the past 12 years of your life into one location, make sure you don't pound on the hard drive when you get annoyed when reading the Dodgers' box score, slam your palm down on the hard drive when YouTube freezes in the middle of a Conan O'Brien skit, and never EVER drop the hard drive on the floor because you got distracted by the pretty girl walking in and out of your new apartment.

Faced with the potential of losing all my photos and documents and emails and porn artwork from the past decade, I've spent much time this morning re-assessing my life and my imprint on this planet so far in my 20 odd years of meaning existence...and then I concluded that it's really been only about 2 years of meaningful existence...and then I got really depressed.

Those are teardrops you can't see on my keyboard right now.