Friday, November 16, 2007

It's all been done

I was preparing to write a post about how I've been in a more-or-less perpetual state of deja vu for about 6 days now, from last Friday night to the present. But as I've thought about it more, deja vu really isn't the right way to describe what's going on. Deja vu implies some kind of irrationality...inherent in deja vu, to me, is the impossibility of having been in a specific situation before. Or at the very least, an inability to trace the precise source of a feeling.

That's a sensation I know well. I've always found that I'm unusually prone to deja vu. It's not uncommon for me to get that feeling multiple times a week, and often times, very intensely. Sometimes, the sensation of having deja vu is part of the deja vu itself. That is, it feels as though I've been in a situation feeling as though I've been in that situation before. But normally, it's all very short-term. It's usually keyed very closely to some part of the environment - a certain smell, a certain song - and, as that passes, so too does the feeling.

What I've been going through, though, is something different. It's the reliving of real experience. It is tangible, identifiable. Every one of these feelings I can trace back to some other I've already had. An incomplete list of moments:

After-dinner drinks with someone I've barely met. Hanging out lazily at someone's apartment. An asinine argument about running late with my stressed-out parents on the morning of the wedding, with my mother passive-aggressively complaining to my father about what a horrible person I am, knowing that I hear it, intending that I hear it. Helping my sister's soon-to-be-husband put on his tuxedo in an isn't-it-weird-how-we're-all-so-calm environment. Driving my sister to the wedding while she had her one and only butterfly. Dancing with a grandma at the wedding. Dancing with someone's cousin at the wedding. A vaguely hung-over brunch the next day. Listening to my dad tell stories about me to my new brother-in-law's step-dad. Every moment of the flight to Hong Kong. That bit of turbulence right after the descent starts. Glaring at a flight attendant behind her back when she makes me bring my seat back to the upright position for landing. Leaving my iPod on as a minor act of rebellion. Being just slightly hunched over as I stand in my row, waiting to exit. Shuffle shuffle shuffle through the airport. Second bathroom stall from the entrance. First shower stall on the left. Furthest sink on the right. Lather rinse repeat.

None of these is remarkable on their own. But I'm just letting my neurotic tendencies run wild lately. My tendency to compare every present experience to a past one has gotten out of hand, to the point where everything I'm doing seems done, and therefore totally unworthwhile. Routine, which is normally comforting and pleasant, is becoming stifling. Then there's the legitimate moments of deja vu throwing me out of sorts to boot. The total effect is one of complete, uncompromising futility. Which is a really horrid feeling to carry you through the day.

Say hi to the newest blog tag, "Cheer Up Emo Kid." I hope to use it sparingly.

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