Brung Low

Subbed out for an evening of raiding has, unfortunately, allowed me some time to be introspective.
I've edited the title of this blog as I'm going to fill it with other things aside from World of Warcraft from now on. I'm a complex human being, not a pixelated character. (Sorry Liri).
In any case, in my musings I came to the conclusion that a sure-fire method to depression is to realise that you are stuck in a rut.

So last night I went to a party. It was a themed party, and I didn't want to go. However, the person throwing the party goaded me into going by informing me that nobody expected my anti-social self to go unless there was something in it for me. I went, thus playing into her hands. Degrading, to say the least.
Then, while at the party (a horrible event, full of rich kids dancing to music I didn't like and talking about people I didn't know) an old flame approachs and we spend the next two hours talking about our relationship and where we stand. A relationship that happened a year ago, and lasted a month. It was my first serious relationship, and yet still, that seems somewhat pathetic, does it not? That it still has such an impact a year later?
In any case, he gave me a gutful of confused feelings to contend with that were a rather extreme effort to logically disassemble. Having done so, I wished to see my current partner and forget about the whole experience. However, he's in Sydney for a week. No dice.
So I get home at midnight. Struggle out of my suit, absolutely starving. Open the door to my caravan/annex complex, and think to myself:
That's funny. I thought I left the lights on.
I am immediately assailed by the sounds of heavy, laboured breathing.
Drunk friends come to crash?
And then the smell of fresh vomit washes over me and I suddenly lose my appetite, understandably.
Turn on the light, and there's someone I don't even recognise passed out on my couch, liberally coated in his own sick. Charming, I thought to myself, glad that whoever the individual was, he was out cold. I spied a pair of legs sticking out from behind the couch, and following them I find someone I do know, a friend of mine. He points me to the bedroom, where I find another friend, the ringleader, who informs me: "That's James. He didn't vomit....what are you talking about...."
Violence ensued.
Anyway, after we - by which I mean, they - had cleaned up as best they could and apologised at length for imposing upon my hospitality without so much as a by-your-leave, I was left alone, in my reeking caravan.
And then I was picked up by my father and taken to see well-off, alternative family members who teach at fancy schools and have morals and quote Indonesian poetry and don't let their children watch television.
And all I could think was is this what people are supposed to become?
Rich teenagers, who grow up and become vapid, rich parents. Drunken, dazed yobbos. The intelligent and meaningful people far removed from all others. And I thought, how do people get like that?
And then I went home and did the same thing I always do. Log on, do dailies, have a bit of a laugh, search for something more. Something to do.
And I realised, my God. I'm stuck in a rut. I'm going to go on doing what I always do, and eventually that will lead to me doing something else, and something else, and BAM. I'll be a product.
I'll wrap this up right now because it's not really going anywhere. I'm an advocate of the "Life is meaningless" philosophy. I'm just not sure what to do with that.
Friend 1: "Life is meaningless. We may as well have a giggle along the way."
Friend 2: "Life is meaningless. We cannot hope to extract any happiness from it before we die."
Me: "Life is clearly meaningless, you're accurate in pointing that out. ...what now?"

I'm in a good place right now. ^_^

....and walking away from this now.