from a blog I posted on March 24, 2008:
sometimes people can be really hurtful. sometimes they don’t even know it, or they pretend not to know it, but people can really make you feel like crap. maybe it’s not their intent or maybe it’s not their fault. sometimes, it’s your fault. but once in a while can we disregard the faults and just acknowledge that someone is just unhappy? i give a lot of myself away, and i give it freely. i know i expect too much of people sometimes, especially when it comes to being mindful of feelings other than their own. but sometimes, it just hurts. everyone needs to feel like they are worth a shit now n then. it’s good to be needed, but sometimes it’s nice to be wanted.
i’m a big believer on owning your emotions, but sometimes it’s not so easy. it’s even tougher when you have to deal with the weight of others’ emotions along with your own. it’s tough when people can’t hear you over the sound of their own voice. like looking through the wrong end of a pair of binoculars, your problems always seem smaller than theirs.
but own my own emotions i must.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Monday, September 28, 2009
Sorry to disappoint you...
...but I'm not dead. I did not pull the trigger early or anything like that. I've just been having some personal issues (real ones) that have been zapping me of my will to feel (and my will to write about feeling). But I realized that if I don't get back on the horse that no one will know what happened over the course of this 31st year of my life that pushed me over the edge. What I had once hoped would be a guilt trip of epic proportions would be no more than a guilt "staycation". I can't have that. Not over MY dead body. Literally.
Fat
It's hard being fat. Actually, I take that back. It's pretty darn easy to be fat. I got here without even trying. but I wasn't always like this. I worked my ass off in my teenage years, doing physical activity for 2-4 hours a day FOR FIVE YEARS STRAIGHT to be able to maintain some kind of fitness. Between basketball, volleyball, bodyboarding, and bike riding I kept myself darn busy. And you know what? It was only enough to keep genetics at bay. Like WWII it was "a war of attrition"... the battle of the bulge... and the bulge would eventually win. Everyone in my family is heavy. EVERYONE. Even when I was skinny, I was fat. My basketball coach would remind me of this as often as he could. Nevermind that I could jump higher than anyone on the team or that I was faster than almost all my teammates. The military's scale of height-to-weight ratio said I was obese, so obese I was. It didn't matter, because once highschool was done and I couldn't maintain that 20+ hour a week regimen of activity, the pounds just started coming. And like a line of dudes waiting to bang Annabelle Chong at the first "World's Biggest Gangbang", they just kept coming and coming and coming. It consumes me to the point where I am often defeated before I even try to fight back. It isn't the only contributing factor to my depression, but it is a "large" part of it. Now that I've gotten some other areas of my life in order (more on that later), perhaps I can face this challenge a little more effectively. After all, wood costs money... I don't want my family spending too much on a coffin.
Money
Everyone inherits either one of two things: Wealth or Debt. Sometimes wealth is concrete like money or property and other times it is something more abstract in nature like knowledge. Debt is the same way too. My grandfather (mom's dad) was a hardcore chicken fighter (He did not fight chickens himself - He bred and trained them...) pretty much up until the day he died from his 4th heart attack. He lived a "carefree" life not in that he didn't have things that needed care, but more that he just didn't give a fuck. He made it a point to take out a second mortgage on the house so that he could enjoy his last years doing things he enjoyed like fighting chickens, buying shitty used Chevys, and fighting chickens. If he did anything else with that money, I really have no idea because there was nothing to show for it. They should have casted him instead of Richard Pryor for that movie "Brewster's Millions". He would have spent that million bucks in one weekend. That's not even including his daily breakfast at Jack in the Box with Swampy, Red, Blue, Blackie, Junior, Boy, Junior Boy, Cheify, and all the other old timers with badass nicknames. When he died, my grandmother's social security check was not enough to pay the mortgage, much less live off of. We tried our best to help out but our financial situation was not much better with my father often not working.
Money has always been a sore spot for me, and inheriting debt made it even worse. My financial problems got to be more than I could handle a few months back and I was in a bad place. Collectors were calling me dozens of times a day. My car loan was late and the bank was threatening to reposess the vehicle. Things were bad. I was desperate for an answer, but could not find one. My brother is doing well, and while he is serving in the Middle East money is not much of an issue for him. I was tempted to ask him for help - I've loaned him money when times were hard and I know he would help me... but what I could not ignore is that he's doing his best to make sure that he doesn't pass down debt to his children. I could not bring myself to ask him for anything. Instead, I bit the bullet and spoke to an attorney who ($1500 later) helped me file for bankruptcy. In hindsight, it was the right thing to do. It was not nearly as painful as I thought it was going to be. Sure, it'll be on my credit report for seven years and all that but I guess I'll have to live with that... or die with it. One way or another, the cycle of inheriting debt stops here. After all, I don't want my family spending too much money on a coffin.
For next time: Vegas may be a desert, but you can still paddle out in the middle of the night...
note: My apologies for the debbie downer post today. I just really needed to get that stuff off my mind and on to virtual paper. Thanks for reading.
Fat
It's hard being fat. Actually, I take that back. It's pretty darn easy to be fat. I got here without even trying. but I wasn't always like this. I worked my ass off in my teenage years, doing physical activity for 2-4 hours a day FOR FIVE YEARS STRAIGHT to be able to maintain some kind of fitness. Between basketball, volleyball, bodyboarding, and bike riding I kept myself darn busy. And you know what? It was only enough to keep genetics at bay. Like WWII it was "a war of attrition"... the battle of the bulge... and the bulge would eventually win. Everyone in my family is heavy. EVERYONE. Even when I was skinny, I was fat. My basketball coach would remind me of this as often as he could. Nevermind that I could jump higher than anyone on the team or that I was faster than almost all my teammates. The military's scale of height-to-weight ratio said I was obese, so obese I was. It didn't matter, because once highschool was done and I couldn't maintain that 20+ hour a week regimen of activity, the pounds just started coming. And like a line of dudes waiting to bang Annabelle Chong at the first "World's Biggest Gangbang", they just kept coming and coming and coming. It consumes me to the point where I am often defeated before I even try to fight back. It isn't the only contributing factor to my depression, but it is a "large" part of it. Now that I've gotten some other areas of my life in order (more on that later), perhaps I can face this challenge a little more effectively. After all, wood costs money... I don't want my family spending too much on a coffin.
Money
Everyone inherits either one of two things: Wealth or Debt. Sometimes wealth is concrete like money or property and other times it is something more abstract in nature like knowledge. Debt is the same way too. My grandfather (mom's dad) was a hardcore chicken fighter (He did not fight chickens himself - He bred and trained them...) pretty much up until the day he died from his 4th heart attack. He lived a "carefree" life not in that he didn't have things that needed care, but more that he just didn't give a fuck. He made it a point to take out a second mortgage on the house so that he could enjoy his last years doing things he enjoyed like fighting chickens, buying shitty used Chevys, and fighting chickens. If he did anything else with that money, I really have no idea because there was nothing to show for it. They should have casted him instead of Richard Pryor for that movie "Brewster's Millions". He would have spent that million bucks in one weekend. That's not even including his daily breakfast at Jack in the Box with Swampy, Red, Blue, Blackie, Junior, Boy, Junior Boy, Cheify, and all the other old timers with badass nicknames. When he died, my grandmother's social security check was not enough to pay the mortgage, much less live off of. We tried our best to help out but our financial situation was not much better with my father often not working.
Money has always been a sore spot for me, and inheriting debt made it even worse. My financial problems got to be more than I could handle a few months back and I was in a bad place. Collectors were calling me dozens of times a day. My car loan was late and the bank was threatening to reposess the vehicle. Things were bad. I was desperate for an answer, but could not find one. My brother is doing well, and while he is serving in the Middle East money is not much of an issue for him. I was tempted to ask him for help - I've loaned him money when times were hard and I know he would help me... but what I could not ignore is that he's doing his best to make sure that he doesn't pass down debt to his children. I could not bring myself to ask him for anything. Instead, I bit the bullet and spoke to an attorney who ($1500 later) helped me file for bankruptcy. In hindsight, it was the right thing to do. It was not nearly as painful as I thought it was going to be. Sure, it'll be on my credit report for seven years and all that but I guess I'll have to live with that... or die with it. One way or another, the cycle of inheriting debt stops here. After all, I don't want my family spending too much money on a coffin.
For next time: Vegas may be a desert, but you can still paddle out in the middle of the night...
note: My apologies for the debbie downer post today. I just really needed to get that stuff off my mind and on to virtual paper. Thanks for reading.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
The Line
see, there's this line between Trini and I. On her side of the line are people who casually date, casually fuck, and casually socialize. all the guys wanna fuck all the girls and all the girls wanna fuck the same guys. On my side there are the serial monogamists, the "been together since highschool"-ists, casual masturbators, the sexless, and at least a handful of virgins. nobody fucks. some "have sex" but mostly there's not a lot of fucking going on. we come from different worlds, Trini and I. I think if anything, we hang out with the extremes of society. not everyone is a whore (like some of the people on her side) and not everyone is a celibate freak (like some of the people on my side). what's funny is how much our lives are shaped by these extremes. she's of the "there's no such thing as love, so let's fuck" philosophy, while my consciousness is dominated by indecisiveness and being unsure of how people feel about me and not knowing how to initiate intimacy. like all issues that dominate our personalities, i think a lot can be traced back to mom and dad...
Harold and Jaclyn
my parents aren't married. i'm 31 years old and my parents are not married. for all i could ever see, i don't know if they've ever even been in love. well, they love each other... but love of the intimate or romantic variety? I don't know. my mom and dad fought a lot when I was young. they didn't yell and scream and have it out, but they fought. bouts of not speaking to each other, distance, and things like that were the usual munitions. even when things were ok, there was never any affection between them. no "honey, i'm home" kiss when my dad would return from work. no roses on valentine's day for mom. nothing like that. if i had to guess, i'd say they were in the "stay together for the kids" mode for most of mine and my brother's childhoods. as they (and I) got older, things got much better and I can say now that my parents do love each other. time makes you more aware of things, like how shitty it would be to grow old alone. they watch golf on tv and go to football games and have little picnics in the park together and all the other things old folks do. it's nice, but it's not enough to unmake whatever i became during those formative years. they are great people, mom and dad. they taught me about love, even if they didn't teach me how to be a lover.
Candi
I think Candi is on my side of the line. heck, she hangs out with Curtis and Rod, so she must be. she's a quiet asian girl with a background in communications, but for some reason works at the mall. she's actually kinda cute (and is very well-endowed for such a little girl). she had a steady bf a while back, but as far as i know her social life revolves around Curtis, Rod, and her hetero lifemate Cassie. anyhow, i've been intrigued with Candi for a while now. I think i'm interested in her simply because i don't really have too many options around these days (not saying that she's really an "option" either). I just don't know where/how to meet new girls these days. the pond is small and it's running out of fish. so anyways, i was stoked because Candi and Cassie were scheduled to come to our 4th of July party, to which they did appear. They also brought Rod with them as well. I won't waste a whole paragraph on Rod, so i'll just say that he's a major dickwad. a total twerp. he's so socially inept that he makes Curtis look like Snoop Dogg at a Pimp convention. I dunno why she lets this guy tag along with her, let alone hang out with him by choice. I figure that if she's resorted to hanging out with the likes of Curtis and Rod, then she'd surely be open to spending time with me, right? well, we'll find that out later (i have extended a dinner invite, to which she has yet to reply). So at the end of the night when we were starting to clean up, i guess Rod, who had been drinking a lot (as he always does, so i hear) took it as a sign that it was time to go. As he was walking back to the car, i guess he didn't see the drop at the side of the driveway and he took a huge spill, taking out a garbage can in the process. the tumble he took was olympic-caliber, and was quite a sight to see. the only thing more entertaining was the landing, as he flopped onto his back, arms and legs out to his sides like a starfish. we couldn't help but let out a laugh... and we were still giggling as hey lay there almost a minute later. it seems that he hit his head somewhere on the way down and was unconscious for about a minute, although i don't know if that was because of the bump on his head or because he had drank too much. either way, i ended up checking on him and talking him back into conscious and eventually back on his feet. I literally tossed him into the backseat of Candi's car and she drove home. he spent the night sleeping it off outside her house in her car. i hate that this little shit gets attention from her, even if by the lamest of means. it pains me to say that I am jealous of Rod, even if it's in the most trivial of ways.
Harold and Jaclyn
my parents aren't married. i'm 31 years old and my parents are not married. for all i could ever see, i don't know if they've ever even been in love. well, they love each other... but love of the intimate or romantic variety? I don't know. my mom and dad fought a lot when I was young. they didn't yell and scream and have it out, but they fought. bouts of not speaking to each other, distance, and things like that were the usual munitions. even when things were ok, there was never any affection between them. no "honey, i'm home" kiss when my dad would return from work. no roses on valentine's day for mom. nothing like that. if i had to guess, i'd say they were in the "stay together for the kids" mode for most of mine and my brother's childhoods. as they (and I) got older, things got much better and I can say now that my parents do love each other. time makes you more aware of things, like how shitty it would be to grow old alone. they watch golf on tv and go to football games and have little picnics in the park together and all the other things old folks do. it's nice, but it's not enough to unmake whatever i became during those formative years. they are great people, mom and dad. they taught me about love, even if they didn't teach me how to be a lover.
Candi
I think Candi is on my side of the line. heck, she hangs out with Curtis and Rod, so she must be. she's a quiet asian girl with a background in communications, but for some reason works at the mall. she's actually kinda cute (and is very well-endowed for such a little girl). she had a steady bf a while back, but as far as i know her social life revolves around Curtis, Rod, and her hetero lifemate Cassie. anyhow, i've been intrigued with Candi for a while now. I think i'm interested in her simply because i don't really have too many options around these days (not saying that she's really an "option" either). I just don't know where/how to meet new girls these days. the pond is small and it's running out of fish. so anyways, i was stoked because Candi and Cassie were scheduled to come to our 4th of July party, to which they did appear. They also brought Rod with them as well. I won't waste a whole paragraph on Rod, so i'll just say that he's a major dickwad. a total twerp. he's so socially inept that he makes Curtis look like Snoop Dogg at a Pimp convention. I dunno why she lets this guy tag along with her, let alone hang out with him by choice. I figure that if she's resorted to hanging out with the likes of Curtis and Rod, then she'd surely be open to spending time with me, right? well, we'll find that out later (i have extended a dinner invite, to which she has yet to reply). So at the end of the night when we were starting to clean up, i guess Rod, who had been drinking a lot (as he always does, so i hear) took it as a sign that it was time to go. As he was walking back to the car, i guess he didn't see the drop at the side of the driveway and he took a huge spill, taking out a garbage can in the process. the tumble he took was olympic-caliber, and was quite a sight to see. the only thing more entertaining was the landing, as he flopped onto his back, arms and legs out to his sides like a starfish. we couldn't help but let out a laugh... and we were still giggling as hey lay there almost a minute later. it seems that he hit his head somewhere on the way down and was unconscious for about a minute, although i don't know if that was because of the bump on his head or because he had drank too much. either way, i ended up checking on him and talking him back into conscious and eventually back on his feet. I literally tossed him into the backseat of Candi's car and she drove home. he spent the night sleeping it off outside her house in her car. i hate that this little shit gets attention from her, even if by the lamest of means. it pains me to say that I am jealous of Rod, even if it's in the most trivial of ways.
Monday, July 6, 2009
perfect monkeys
today's theme song: Same Song - Digital Underground
Today: I'm angry about shit today so i'm not sticking to the format as much as i'd like. maybe i'll come back later and edit this post and make it nicer. but for now, it is what it is (the most overused phrase of the 21st century). Oh, and I may or may not capitalize things when i should. I'm just that reckless today.
Monkey Business
I think that it's so lame how some people don't have the courage to deal with being alone. for all the "woe is me" whining and crying bullshit, they end up in another relationship in the blink of an eye. in fact, some can't even walk away from one until they have another one to cushion their fall. "if not for Paul, I don't know how I would have been able to get my mind off of Karl". Um, what? why not be honest and say "i don't have the depth, nor the courage to go to bed alone for even one night"? A coworker, Kellie, once told me that "girls are like monkeys - they won't let go of the branch until they find another to grasp on to". So true. but what happens when the branch breaks prematurely? They fall on their ass and dial my digits into their monkey phone. And no, it's never JUST sex with you.
Perfect For Each Other
Isn't it funny how when you see two equally odd looking people together that people will say stupid things like "oh, they are PERFECT for each other!" WTF does that mean? are ugly people only allowed to date other ugly people? how do people make such judgements based off of so little? But let's look at it from the other perspective: Do ugly people purposely go after other ugly people? Feel free to substitute 'ugly' with 'fat', 'unusual', 'handicapped', 'short', 'tall', or any other adjective describing someone who strays from what society deems as 'normal'. Does a fat person automatically seek out other fat people? does he really find them attractive, or is he just "playing within his league"? Also, how much does race play into it all? do most people lean towards people of their race, or is that merely a personal preference? I know I had once made some nice progress with a personals ad on Craigslist that i had once answered, only when we had traded pics 3 emails in she cut things off because she "assumed that I was asian" and was disappointed when I turned out not to be (Filipino is considered asian, but I don't have enough or something for it to show). What DO people look for in a mate, anyway? Two of my female friends, Trinity and Bonnie, constantly date the wrong guys. i'm not gonna make assumptions, but it may not be a coincidence that these guys all kind of look the same and they all dress the same. you could say that they make their judgements based off of looks. but i'm not here to make assumptions... the most shocking trend of the century is that every relationship they get into ends in some kind of clusterfuck and they end up getting hurt. bad. yet despite their severely burned fingers, they keep on touching the stove. over and over. trini says to me the other day "I mentioned to Bonnie that maybe we need to re-evaluate what it is that we look for in guys". um, yeah. i could have told you that over a year ago. it took you this long to come to this realization. now, let's see how long it takes you to actually do something about it. I doubt that I'll still be around to see it.
Yesterday: I went to the beach at about 6pm. The sun was nice enough to stay out til around 7:30 so I was able to make a time of it. The sun was also nice enough to deliver a helluva sunset. too bad I don't take pictures. after getting out of the water and washing off, i sat on a bench and just watched the surf for a while. I do a lot fo things alone these days, and going to the beach is one of them. but on this day, it was strangely unsatisfying. i actually got pretty upset at the fact that i was watching this amazing sunset and had no one next to me to turn to and point it out to. so i sat there... for almost two hours. lamenting the fact that this cruel world forces me to laugh at the irony of having to admire such beauty while living such an ugly existence. I leaned over the seawall, realizing that if i hit the rocks with my head at just the right angle that I could end it right there. It was 9:05pm - easily dark enough so that no one would find me until I had long drowned. I took one last look at the rocks below and started walking back to my car. Not tonight... I have laundry to do. So much for independence.
Today: I'm angry about shit today so i'm not sticking to the format as much as i'd like. maybe i'll come back later and edit this post and make it nicer. but for now, it is what it is (the most overused phrase of the 21st century). Oh, and I may or may not capitalize things when i should. I'm just that reckless today.
Monkey Business
I think that it's so lame how some people don't have the courage to deal with being alone. for all the "woe is me" whining and crying bullshit, they end up in another relationship in the blink of an eye. in fact, some can't even walk away from one until they have another one to cushion their fall. "if not for Paul, I don't know how I would have been able to get my mind off of Karl". Um, what? why not be honest and say "i don't have the depth, nor the courage to go to bed alone for even one night"? A coworker, Kellie, once told me that "girls are like monkeys - they won't let go of the branch until they find another to grasp on to". So true. but what happens when the branch breaks prematurely? They fall on their ass and dial my digits into their monkey phone. And no, it's never JUST sex with you.
Perfect For Each Other
Isn't it funny how when you see two equally odd looking people together that people will say stupid things like "oh, they are PERFECT for each other!" WTF does that mean? are ugly people only allowed to date other ugly people? how do people make such judgements based off of so little? But let's look at it from the other perspective: Do ugly people purposely go after other ugly people? Feel free to substitute 'ugly' with 'fat', 'unusual', 'handicapped', 'short', 'tall', or any other adjective describing someone who strays from what society deems as 'normal'. Does a fat person automatically seek out other fat people? does he really find them attractive, or is he just "playing within his league"? Also, how much does race play into it all? do most people lean towards people of their race, or is that merely a personal preference? I know I had once made some nice progress with a personals ad on Craigslist that i had once answered, only when we had traded pics 3 emails in she cut things off because she "assumed that I was asian" and was disappointed when I turned out not to be (Filipino is considered asian, but I don't have enough or something for it to show). What DO people look for in a mate, anyway? Two of my female friends, Trinity and Bonnie, constantly date the wrong guys. i'm not gonna make assumptions, but it may not be a coincidence that these guys all kind of look the same and they all dress the same. you could say that they make their judgements based off of looks. but i'm not here to make assumptions... the most shocking trend of the century is that every relationship they get into ends in some kind of clusterfuck and they end up getting hurt. bad. yet despite their severely burned fingers, they keep on touching the stove. over and over. trini says to me the other day "I mentioned to Bonnie that maybe we need to re-evaluate what it is that we look for in guys". um, yeah. i could have told you that over a year ago. it took you this long to come to this realization. now, let's see how long it takes you to actually do something about it. I doubt that I'll still be around to see it.
Yesterday: I went to the beach at about 6pm. The sun was nice enough to stay out til around 7:30 so I was able to make a time of it. The sun was also nice enough to deliver a helluva sunset. too bad I don't take pictures. after getting out of the water and washing off, i sat on a bench and just watched the surf for a while. I do a lot fo things alone these days, and going to the beach is one of them. but on this day, it was strangely unsatisfying. i actually got pretty upset at the fact that i was watching this amazing sunset and had no one next to me to turn to and point it out to. so i sat there... for almost two hours. lamenting the fact that this cruel world forces me to laugh at the irony of having to admire such beauty while living such an ugly existence. I leaned over the seawall, realizing that if i hit the rocks with my head at just the right angle that I could end it right there. It was 9:05pm - easily dark enough so that no one would find me until I had long drowned. I took one last look at the rocks below and started walking back to my car. Not tonight... I have laundry to do. So much for independence.
Monday, June 29, 2009
Mad Men, Sad Man
today's theme song: The Cure - Just Like Heaven
today: Sorry for not posting in so long. Betcha thought I pulled the trigger early, huh? honestly, I thought about it... But the real reason for not posting was because my internet access at home is out of commission. I am on a temporary setup for at least another week, but it's no excuse. For once in my pathetic life I should follow through and finish something, even if it is my suicide journal.
yesterday: So the reason for my internet being out is because I switched from cable to satellite tv (DirecTV, to be specific) and have not yet found a replacement for my cable internet. After three weeks of use, I am satisfied with satellite and I do not regret my decision. What was largely a cost-saving decision turned out to be a step-up in programming as well. Thanks to the AMC on-demand channel, I've discovered my tv show of choice for the summer: Mad Men. Mad Men is a serial drama about the lives of the elite ad execs of New York's Madison Ave in the early 60's. The show deals with many themes and is very entertaining, but in a very subtle way. As I lay there watching episode 106, I couldn't help but notice how much my life has changed over the last four years. I remember a time where after each subtle joke i'd turn to 'her' and say 'Oh, I get it!'. Every not-so-obvious theme and plot device would be openly examined and discussed. No stone would be left unturned. Now, I just watch and absorb. If something is funny, I'll laugh quietly to myself. There are still times where I nudge the air with my elbow and turn to nod my head to someone who isn't there. Luckily, no one is there to see it. But maybe I wish there was.
four years ago: she'd watch the dumbest of shows. Well, they were dumb to me. Queer eye for the Straight Guy, What Not to Wear, shows of that ilk. And then when it was time to go to dinner she'd put on jeans and a t-shirt. Why even watch fashion-oriented shows if you are just gonna half-ass it and dress like you are going to work at the pineapple cannery? Well, she would dress up once in a while. Mostly to go out without me. Maybe I should have taken it as a sign that she was looking elsewhere. Maybe it was because she knew that no matter what she wore, I didn't really find her that attractive anymore. Looking back on it, I don't know if that's entirely true. I think every guy likes it when his girl goes out of her way to look good for him. Effort goes a long way. Too bad the word "Effort" was not part of her vocabulary.
forty minutes ago: I started writing this post on my phone as I sat Trinity's Monday night bar. As much as she disgusts me when I look at her, it really inspired me to get back on the horse and to start writing again. She's like some kind of anti-muse, drawing out my most emo of thoughts and forcing me to find an outlet for them. This is my outlet, for now.
for my headstone: "I don't marry sloppy fat dudes" - Trinity
for next blog: "perfect for each other - a rant"
days left to live: 345
-p
today: Sorry for not posting in so long. Betcha thought I pulled the trigger early, huh? honestly, I thought about it... But the real reason for not posting was because my internet access at home is out of commission. I am on a temporary setup for at least another week, but it's no excuse. For once in my pathetic life I should follow through and finish something, even if it is my suicide journal.
yesterday: So the reason for my internet being out is because I switched from cable to satellite tv (DirecTV, to be specific) and have not yet found a replacement for my cable internet. After three weeks of use, I am satisfied with satellite and I do not regret my decision. What was largely a cost-saving decision turned out to be a step-up in programming as well. Thanks to the AMC on-demand channel, I've discovered my tv show of choice for the summer: Mad Men. Mad Men is a serial drama about the lives of the elite ad execs of New York's Madison Ave in the early 60's. The show deals with many themes and is very entertaining, but in a very subtle way. As I lay there watching episode 106, I couldn't help but notice how much my life has changed over the last four years. I remember a time where after each subtle joke i'd turn to 'her' and say 'Oh, I get it!'. Every not-so-obvious theme and plot device would be openly examined and discussed. No stone would be left unturned. Now, I just watch and absorb. If something is funny, I'll laugh quietly to myself. There are still times where I nudge the air with my elbow and turn to nod my head to someone who isn't there. Luckily, no one is there to see it. But maybe I wish there was.
four years ago: she'd watch the dumbest of shows. Well, they were dumb to me. Queer eye for the Straight Guy, What Not to Wear, shows of that ilk. And then when it was time to go to dinner she'd put on jeans and a t-shirt. Why even watch fashion-oriented shows if you are just gonna half-ass it and dress like you are going to work at the pineapple cannery? Well, she would dress up once in a while. Mostly to go out without me. Maybe I should have taken it as a sign that she was looking elsewhere. Maybe it was because she knew that no matter what she wore, I didn't really find her that attractive anymore. Looking back on it, I don't know if that's entirely true. I think every guy likes it when his girl goes out of her way to look good for him. Effort goes a long way. Too bad the word "Effort" was not part of her vocabulary.
forty minutes ago: I started writing this post on my phone as I sat Trinity's Monday night bar. As much as she disgusts me when I look at her, it really inspired me to get back on the horse and to start writing again. She's like some kind of anti-muse, drawing out my most emo of thoughts and forcing me to find an outlet for them. This is my outlet, for now.
for my headstone: "I don't marry sloppy fat dudes" - Trinity
for next blog: "perfect for each other - a rant"
days left to live: 345
-p
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
"it's been confirmed"
today's theme song: Kanye West Featuring Syleena Johnson - All Falls Down
today: Work was great. They say that you feel a sense of relief... a sense of clarity when one commits to commit. I don't know if that's true if you plan your suicide for almost a year down the road, but I did feel better at work today than I have in a long time. Whether or not I've been more productive, I don't know. After all, I did start writing this blog while still at the office.
one year ago: "It's been confirmed" is a catch phrase used by my friends and I to point out something ridiculously obvious. The origins of "It's been confirmed" are deeply wrapped in inside jokes and back stories involving my group of friends so I can't really go into them without boring you to the point of committing suicide with me, so I'll just say that it started when one of my friends chimed in on a group discussion with the phrase with the intent to share with us some "inside" info on something everyone at the campfire already had knowledge of. It went like this:
Curtis: "Oh, by the way, it's been confirmed..."
The Group: "Um, what's been confirmed?"
Curtis: "It's been confirmed. My coworkers confirmed it..."
The smugness in his voice and the valiant effort by everyone else to not laugh really made the moment. I guess you have to had been there. So now whenever someone has some tip or inside dirt, we ask them "has this been confirmed by Curtis's coworkers? if not, I call BS".
Curtis
Out of my current group of friends, I've known Curtis the longest. Curtis is a pretty strange guy. Terribly awkward in social situations, he has a reputation acting like a total weirdo when around groups of people, and then acting like even more of a weirdo to compensate for it. Curtis is the guy who, if you dared him, would eat a scoop of ice cream covered in pepper and salt for sprinkles and ketchup and mustard for syrup. He's also one of those guys who takes the "bff" route when trying to woo a potential lover. Guess how often that works? Yup, never. He befriends these girls and then when they either rebuff his ill-timed advances or when they end up dating someone else he gets extremely upset and frustrated. And when these girls fall upon hard times, it's Curtis that they call and he comes running to their aid. As soon as things get better at home Curtis gets discarded like a used rubber, only the rubber has felt the inside of a vagina at least once.
The Friend Zone
What's kinda funny is that as much as I look down on him for his ways, I am guilty of committing many of the same crimes against myself just as Curtis is. The circumstances may not have been as extreme, but the end result is usually the same. Sometimes things start off really well when I meet a girl for the first time. I may not like a lot of things about myself, but I do know that I have a very charming personality and often times that's enough to at least open the door for a second date. But because I am so unsure of myself and I take so long to make any kind of move, I often find myself sitting in "the friend zone" before I even know it. "The friend zone" is where you sit when a girl finds out that she can get emotional gifts from you without having to give any back. She gets the milk for free without even having to touch the cow, much less buy it. It is the most altruistic of acts, but without any tax benefits. The friend zone is like "Cheers" for me - when I walk in the door everyone knows my name because i've been there so often. Perhaps when I'm dead, Curtis and the gang will make a toast in my honor.
four years ago: It was Halloween night and me and a bunch of the guys (Curtis included) didn't have anything to do, so we headed over to our favorite watering hole to have a few beers. The bar was quite empty, save for us and a few of the workers. Being that we were regulars there we knew a few of the servers pretty well. But on this night there was a new girl that we had not seen before, and she happened to be waiting on our table.
Trinity
Nancy Sinatra. That's what we guessed her costume was. Clinging to her cute little body was a 70's-ish looking dress and on her feet were these sexy white boots that went way up. The icing on the cake was that she was very friendly and chatted it up with us the whole night. She helped us salvage what would have been a pretty stale Halloween night. I think we salvaged her evening at least a little bit as well. By the time we left, my brain had realized what my heart and other parts of my body had already figured out: "I want this one". So over the course of the next four years I proceeded to plant little seeds of friendship here and there, so that I could cross the barrier of being "creepy customer hitting on me" and to become an actual acquaintance outside of the bar as well. I visited the bar without my wingmen, made sure to either sit in her section or at the bar so we could chat in between orders. We exchanged business cards, which would lead to exchanging emails and such. And before I knew it, we were having lunch together and occasionally going out for drinks after work. We'd go for walks and have dinner. I brought her as my date to a wedding. But that's as far as it went. I could have saved four years of my life if I had just called Ticketmaster and asked for a front row ticket in the friend zone. I guess being in the friend zone isn't a bad thing - she's a great friend and fun to hang out with and I like having an in at the bar these days. Through the four years of friendship I've seen her get in and out of at least two relationships. I think I actually had a chance with her in between those two relationships, but I decided to play it cool and let it happen and not try to force it (especially since she was just out of a relationship). My plan failed, as she was swept up by some guy who was super aggressive. Sometimes I get frustrated for not having been more aggressive myself, but I think that I never really had a shot with her to begin with and that I should just get over it.
last week: We were at the same bar for my birthday party and Trinity was sitting next to me. We had a few drinks and started to feel the effects and we got pretty comfortable together. While it was nice and all to have this girl who I totally adored leaning next to me and with her arm around mine, I couldn't shake the feeling that she was just throwing me a bone for my birthday and that once the party was over things were going to go back to the way they were. I got a kiss out of it at the end of the night (closed mouth, but on the lips), but I just could not let myself relax and enjoy it for what it was. Maybe if she knew she was potentially saving my life, I could have gotten more than just a kiss?
There's a lot more to the Trinity story that I can't share. Trinity, the good in you is not dead.
last night: I meant to go to bed early, but I got stuck watching "Dark Knight" on my DVR. What an awesome movie! I'm glad I got to see it while I'm still alive.
for my headstone: "The prettiest people do the ugliest things" - Kanye West
for next blog: "the one that got away"
days left to live: 357
Good night, Gotham!
-p
today: Work was great. They say that you feel a sense of relief... a sense of clarity when one commits to commit. I don't know if that's true if you plan your suicide for almost a year down the road, but I did feel better at work today than I have in a long time. Whether or not I've been more productive, I don't know. After all, I did start writing this blog while still at the office.
one year ago: "It's been confirmed" is a catch phrase used by my friends and I to point out something ridiculously obvious. The origins of "It's been confirmed" are deeply wrapped in inside jokes and back stories involving my group of friends so I can't really go into them without boring you to the point of committing suicide with me, so I'll just say that it started when one of my friends chimed in on a group discussion with the phrase with the intent to share with us some "inside" info on something everyone at the campfire already had knowledge of. It went like this:
Curtis: "Oh, by the way, it's been confirmed..."
The Group: "Um, what's been confirmed?"
Curtis: "It's been confirmed. My coworkers confirmed it..."
The smugness in his voice and the valiant effort by everyone else to not laugh really made the moment. I guess you have to had been there. So now whenever someone has some tip or inside dirt, we ask them "has this been confirmed by Curtis's coworkers? if not, I call BS".
Curtis
Out of my current group of friends, I've known Curtis the longest. Curtis is a pretty strange guy. Terribly awkward in social situations, he has a reputation acting like a total weirdo when around groups of people, and then acting like even more of a weirdo to compensate for it. Curtis is the guy who, if you dared him, would eat a scoop of ice cream covered in pepper and salt for sprinkles and ketchup and mustard for syrup. He's also one of those guys who takes the "bff" route when trying to woo a potential lover. Guess how often that works? Yup, never. He befriends these girls and then when they either rebuff his ill-timed advances or when they end up dating someone else he gets extremely upset and frustrated. And when these girls fall upon hard times, it's Curtis that they call and he comes running to their aid. As soon as things get better at home Curtis gets discarded like a used rubber, only the rubber has felt the inside of a vagina at least once.
The Friend Zone
What's kinda funny is that as much as I look down on him for his ways, I am guilty of committing many of the same crimes against myself just as Curtis is. The circumstances may not have been as extreme, but the end result is usually the same. Sometimes things start off really well when I meet a girl for the first time. I may not like a lot of things about myself, but I do know that I have a very charming personality and often times that's enough to at least open the door for a second date. But because I am so unsure of myself and I take so long to make any kind of move, I often find myself sitting in "the friend zone" before I even know it. "The friend zone" is where you sit when a girl finds out that she can get emotional gifts from you without having to give any back. She gets the milk for free without even having to touch the cow, much less buy it. It is the most altruistic of acts, but without any tax benefits. The friend zone is like "Cheers" for me - when I walk in the door everyone knows my name because i've been there so often. Perhaps when I'm dead, Curtis and the gang will make a toast in my honor.
four years ago: It was Halloween night and me and a bunch of the guys (Curtis included) didn't have anything to do, so we headed over to our favorite watering hole to have a few beers. The bar was quite empty, save for us and a few of the workers. Being that we were regulars there we knew a few of the servers pretty well. But on this night there was a new girl that we had not seen before, and she happened to be waiting on our table.
Trinity
Nancy Sinatra. That's what we guessed her costume was. Clinging to her cute little body was a 70's-ish looking dress and on her feet were these sexy white boots that went way up. The icing on the cake was that she was very friendly and chatted it up with us the whole night. She helped us salvage what would have been a pretty stale Halloween night. I think we salvaged her evening at least a little bit as well. By the time we left, my brain had realized what my heart and other parts of my body had already figured out: "I want this one". So over the course of the next four years I proceeded to plant little seeds of friendship here and there, so that I could cross the barrier of being "creepy customer hitting on me" and to become an actual acquaintance outside of the bar as well. I visited the bar without my wingmen, made sure to either sit in her section or at the bar so we could chat in between orders. We exchanged business cards, which would lead to exchanging emails and such. And before I knew it, we were having lunch together and occasionally going out for drinks after work. We'd go for walks and have dinner. I brought her as my date to a wedding. But that's as far as it went. I could have saved four years of my life if I had just called Ticketmaster and asked for a front row ticket in the friend zone. I guess being in the friend zone isn't a bad thing - she's a great friend and fun to hang out with and I like having an in at the bar these days. Through the four years of friendship I've seen her get in and out of at least two relationships. I think I actually had a chance with her in between those two relationships, but I decided to play it cool and let it happen and not try to force it (especially since she was just out of a relationship). My plan failed, as she was swept up by some guy who was super aggressive. Sometimes I get frustrated for not having been more aggressive myself, but I think that I never really had a shot with her to begin with and that I should just get over it.
last week: We were at the same bar for my birthday party and Trinity was sitting next to me. We had a few drinks and started to feel the effects and we got pretty comfortable together. While it was nice and all to have this girl who I totally adored leaning next to me and with her arm around mine, I couldn't shake the feeling that she was just throwing me a bone for my birthday and that once the party was over things were going to go back to the way they were. I got a kiss out of it at the end of the night (closed mouth, but on the lips), but I just could not let myself relax and enjoy it for what it was. Maybe if she knew she was potentially saving my life, I could have gotten more than just a kiss?
There's a lot more to the Trinity story that I can't share. Trinity, the good in you is not dead.
last night: I meant to go to bed early, but I got stuck watching "Dark Knight" on my DVR. What an awesome movie! I'm glad I got to see it while I'm still alive.
for my headstone: "The prettiest people do the ugliest things" - Kanye West
for next blog: "the one that got away"
days left to live: 357
Good night, Gotham!
-p
Monday, June 15, 2009
31 and done...
today's theme song: Depeche Mode - It's No Good
today: A few days removed from my 31st birthday... I have decided that if my love life does not improve by the time I turn 32, I will kill myself. Seriously. Being that I have virtually no love life, it should not be so hard to avert self-imposed death... or so you'd think. This past April marked four years of being single. More importantly, my birthday marked two years of involuntary celibacy. Once every two years was a sex rate i could live with, but here we are 2 years + 4 days later and still the crops are dry. This is unacceptable. The only thing that can push myself to make things happen is the threat of death. And if 2 years + 4 days turns into 3 years, death doesn't seem so unpleasant.
four years ago: I started blogging as a way to cope with being dumped. Or that's what I told myself, anyways. Mostly, I think I was looking for pity action or something by my sole reader (and I am surprised that I am 31 and dry?). Regardless of my motives, the process was quite cathartic. Putting my feelings down on virtual paper helped me heal. I miss blogging and it's healing properties so I've decided to start back up. The funny thing is that blogging is how my ex met the boy she would eventually leave me for.
Janey
Janey had a blog on Xanga in which she would blog about such mundane things as what kind of plant she watered that day or what songs she sang in chorus class that day or whatever. If there was something no one cared at all to read about, she would blog about it in her Xanga blog. Through her blog, she happened upon a blog ring of people with Xanga blogs from her hometown. It was through this blog that she met Tim. Tim was some wet-behind-the-ears kid who managed to post a few clever phrases here and there between lines and lines of emo dribble. Janey thought that he was so interesting and would mention him from time to time and sing the praises of this guy who was supposedly so interesting. To make a long story short, they eventually met up and had what they thought was a secret affair. I had stumbled upon some chat logs (she wasn't very smart about covering her tracks) and knew pretty much everything that was going on. I played dumb at first. I guess I really didn't care much anymore about what was a stale relationship. Plus, she would buy me things to keep me busy and because she felt guilty, which was nice. But things eventually came to a head and our relationship came to an end. Looking back on things, I was much too nice through it all. I let her stay while she was figuring out her living situation and all that and I would go to bed knowing that she was on the other side of the room texting her new beau. Being too nice has always been my sin.
four days ago: It was my birthday. I spent the night relaxing at home and watching my newly-installed DirecTV HD-DVR. In an effort to shave a few bucks off my monthly expenses (and because I wanted a new toy to play with), I ditched Cable and switched to Satellite. I spent more time reading instructions and tweaking configuration options than I actually spent watching real tv. I did this until around 10pm and then I fell asleep for the night, which is very early for me. I do a lot of things alone these days.
last night: In a bout of emo-ness, I drove out to the shore at about 10:30pm and laid in the sand and watched the surf. I must have looked strange to the young tourists frolicking near the water and enjoying the start of their summer vacations as I just sat there like a bump on a driftwood log in the middle of the night. No mai tais or pina coladas for me, just a sobering pint of "sucks to be me". no pineapple wedge. no drink umbrella. I do a lot of things alone these days.
for my headstone: Most of the time, things happen for a reason. It's when things don't happen that we ask "why?".
for next blog: "it's been confirmed" and "the friend zone".
days left to live: 359
You stay classy, (fill in your hometown here)...
-p
today: A few days removed from my 31st birthday... I have decided that if my love life does not improve by the time I turn 32, I will kill myself. Seriously. Being that I have virtually no love life, it should not be so hard to avert self-imposed death... or so you'd think. This past April marked four years of being single. More importantly, my birthday marked two years of involuntary celibacy. Once every two years was a sex rate i could live with, but here we are 2 years + 4 days later and still the crops are dry. This is unacceptable. The only thing that can push myself to make things happen is the threat of death. And if 2 years + 4 days turns into 3 years, death doesn't seem so unpleasant.
four years ago: I started blogging as a way to cope with being dumped. Or that's what I told myself, anyways. Mostly, I think I was looking for pity action or something by my sole reader (and I am surprised that I am 31 and dry?). Regardless of my motives, the process was quite cathartic. Putting my feelings down on virtual paper helped me heal. I miss blogging and it's healing properties so I've decided to start back up. The funny thing is that blogging is how my ex met the boy she would eventually leave me for.
Janey
Janey had a blog on Xanga in which she would blog about such mundane things as what kind of plant she watered that day or what songs she sang in chorus class that day or whatever. If there was something no one cared at all to read about, she would blog about it in her Xanga blog. Through her blog, she happened upon a blog ring of people with Xanga blogs from her hometown. It was through this blog that she met Tim. Tim was some wet-behind-the-ears kid who managed to post a few clever phrases here and there between lines and lines of emo dribble. Janey thought that he was so interesting and would mention him from time to time and sing the praises of this guy who was supposedly so interesting. To make a long story short, they eventually met up and had what they thought was a secret affair. I had stumbled upon some chat logs (she wasn't very smart about covering her tracks) and knew pretty much everything that was going on. I played dumb at first. I guess I really didn't care much anymore about what was a stale relationship. Plus, she would buy me things to keep me busy and because she felt guilty, which was nice. But things eventually came to a head and our relationship came to an end. Looking back on things, I was much too nice through it all. I let her stay while she was figuring out her living situation and all that and I would go to bed knowing that she was on the other side of the room texting her new beau. Being too nice has always been my sin.
four days ago: It was my birthday. I spent the night relaxing at home and watching my newly-installed DirecTV HD-DVR. In an effort to shave a few bucks off my monthly expenses (and because I wanted a new toy to play with), I ditched Cable and switched to Satellite. I spent more time reading instructions and tweaking configuration options than I actually spent watching real tv. I did this until around 10pm and then I fell asleep for the night, which is very early for me. I do a lot of things alone these days.
last night: In a bout of emo-ness, I drove out to the shore at about 10:30pm and laid in the sand and watched the surf. I must have looked strange to the young tourists frolicking near the water and enjoying the start of their summer vacations as I just sat there like a bump on a driftwood log in the middle of the night. No mai tais or pina coladas for me, just a sobering pint of "sucks to be me". no pineapple wedge. no drink umbrella. I do a lot of things alone these days.
for my headstone: Most of the time, things happen for a reason. It's when things don't happen that we ask "why?".
for next blog: "it's been confirmed" and "the friend zone".
days left to live: 359
You stay classy, (fill in your hometown here)...
-p
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