Jono's Journal

Remember this
Remember this years from now. It's about noon - you write your parents, you tell them that four job opportunities fell through, that you don't know what the fuck you're going to do, that you're depressed, discouraged, and scared. You miss her. In the e-mail, something that you write comes off as a sort of shot at your dad, who has always been good to you, you regret it as soon as it's sent. You feel terrible, but you have to hurry to make lunch now so that you can leave for work, and as you're doing that, your phone gets a message from your dad, who is calling, telling you not to be too depressed, that you have enough money to hold out for a few months, that you're going to be okay, and he sounds sad, sad for you, but he says that you're going to be okay. Halfway through the message, you start bawling, the first real cry in years. Minutes later, there you are, eating applesauce for lunch on the dusty couch in the dark room, your eyes still damp, an old man on the television watching and listening to a younger classical pianist. When the music stops, the old man speaks, and you realize that you are eating applesauce and watching Mr. Rogers alone, tear-stained and only temporarily employed. This seems like such a recognizable low point - something that you can remember years later and think look how far I've come since then, look at what I have built since then - and the ridiculous overwrought quality of this moment is so transparent that you begin to feel better. It's funny, right? Remember this years from now.

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