Saturday, March 7, 2009

Theres nothing else for me to do, but on behalf of Rock and Roll: Fuck you. (Day 94)

So I've been thinking a lot about this five year plan. It's never been something I've done, because for so much of my life I just shot from the hips instead of taking time to line up the shot.

I decided to start working on this five year plan last weekend when I was drinking with Arleen and Austin outside while we sat around this little bonfire. Austin's brother and his girl, Thomas and Sarah were there earlier in the night, but had to bail cause Tom had to be at work early.

But during it all. Austin and I moving to separate coasts, Arleen having a child and getting married, all of us having our fair share of failed relationships and personal bullshit that could've destroyed us...we still stand. And at the end of it all, it's always been the three, four of us (counting Tom) when it's all said and done.

Throughout everything, no matter how much things seem and feel different, and no matter how much we all get caught up in our lives, when it's all said and done and the three of us sit together again, nothing matters anymore.

In my life, theres been a lot of randimosity (don't worry about it, I coined that term a long time ago, will explain in a bit). Theres been a lot of cast and characters, and at times it just feels like my life is this revolving door where nothing will stay the same for any kind of prolonged extent. Things that should have lasted probably a lifetime, come to abrupt halts because a lot of the time I kind of freak out.

Something about the future, in the past, used to scare me. Taking that next step, and often times not even knowing how to formulate the right way on going about the things I do want to accomplish. I think I'm starting to take the right steps, but I still have no idea, and it's beginning to scare the shit out of me. I'm 23, and live at home, and there isn't a day I wish I was on my own, by myself, and just living my life the way I've always wanted too.

The one thing thats seemed to stay constant with me, in a life thats constantly revolving and changing so fast, I don't even notice it until years later and ask myself, "What the hell just happened? I used to be so different."

I used to be a lot more brash and uninhibited than I am now. I know a lot of people think I'm really brash now, but when I was was much more apparent. I'm not saying thats necessarily a bad thing, but...okay, I hate to reference this movie because I'm not the biggest fan of it, but the movie Talladega Nights, after Ricky Bobby has the serious crash and his dad says, "You saw the fear." I think that applies now...I saw the fear.

About five years ago, I met a girl who I really felt was the perfect match for me. Not for who I am now, because that'd just be a lie, because I want someone who makes me want to strive to be something more, something better and more driven than I ever could accomplish on my own. And I know that that in itself sounds really odd to hear, because it seems like I'm searching for someone to live my life for me, but it's not like that whatsoever.

I want a measuring stick, and while I'm capable of a lot on my own, I never want to just plateau and think, "This is good enough." I want to always push myself, and not become complacent as I have in the past.

But this girl at the time, and even now, I kind of recognize that she was the one that got away. And I feel no remorse for that, I realize that things do in fact happen for a reason, no matter how little sense they seem to make at the time.

But she spurned on the change I've attempted to drive my life into. That was the starting point for this evolution, so to speak, that I've been trying so hard for my whole life. And it hasn't been up until recently, the past nine months or so, that I've buckled down really hard to try and make it a reality.

She came into my life when I was content just being nothing. Content to just drink every night with friends, go to a nowhere job and exist without a reason or rhyme. To be honest, that was never something I'd wanted to do in my life because it just seems so...depressing. And I know some people are stoked on the idea of just doing nothing, which is cool I guess, but it's never been for me.

And when I met her, for some reason it stirred up those feelings of fighting again. Fighting to surpass my parents and to be something so much better than them. I'm on my way now, but I'd be lying if I didn't admit that I do need help in doing that. But for some reason I've always been too proud to admit things like that.

I've been told by a few people that I should give therapy another shot. I wound up not going initially because of how little a priority I felt I was, and I'm not saying I'm some super important individual because...God knows thats just not true. I'm bottom of the barrel, as in underneath the actual barrel itself.

But I'm embarrassed at the thought of succumbing to therapy. I have no idea what the process is like, but to be honest I feel so embarrassed. I have no idea how I'd react, but I feel so naked just thinking about it. Having to tell someone what I'm thinking, or feeling, or having to answer questions...I feel like I'm waisting their time, and that some one else who's in dire need of attention and therapy is having to wait that much longer because I'm taking up the chair.

It took a lot for me to swallow my pride and embarrassment to say, "I need your help" to a complete stranger, and for them to tell me, "Thats not my specialty. Anxiety isn't my thing." And to basically tell me I had no choice but to do a group therapy...

It might seem like a callous and egotistical and completely asshole-ish thing to say, but I can't do that. I can barely talk to my friends. I know it seems completely contradictory, too, considering the general nature of this blog, but the thing is...even here, you get a peak, but you don't get even the least of the actual story or anything. No offense to anyone, it's just that I'm not comfortable with anything in relation to myself. I'd rather listen to you, I'd rather try and help you, because I feel like a lot of the time I'm nothing more but a lost cause and a waste of your time. I fucking hate dumping on people, but lately it's been happening more and more and I feel so completely guilty in doing that.

I can't spill my guts in any facet other than writing to complete strangers or close friends. In writing I can disconnect and disassociate myself, create a character and veil everything behind some half brained premise.

But having to tell that to all these strange people who can judge me? Fuck that. I know I'm more than capable of not judging people, because I know I'm no better than any one of them. But that doesn't mean any of them are the same. In fact, I'm completely certain theres a high possibility none of them are.

And honestly, and this is no slight to my close friends, but I deal with enough of other peoples problems. I love them, and I love doing it. I never tire of it, but I don't need to adopt anyone else's problems. But if I'm going to ever even entertain the idea of doing therapy, it will not be at the mercy, I will not be at the mercy of anyone else. I'd rather take it to my grave, honestly.

And I feel embarrassed because I can't just deal with my problems like a man should. Drinking, or whatever. It's so much easier to repress it and forget about everything, honestly. "People who can't deal with their problems probably can't afford whiskey."

But she kind of took that element of fear away, because I knew she was just as fucked up as I was. We were both ugly people, and it kind of suited us both well. Well, she wasn't ugly. I actually kind of have a good eye for girls 90% of the time (Minus the Departed and the Hunchback of Notre Dame) and most of the girls I wind up with really don't deserve the misfortune of dating a troll such as myself. I'm pretty much the combination of the Travelocity Gnome, and the Star Wars Rancor.
+ =

(Theres it broken down in a mathematical equation.)

She was beautiful, but I think you get the point.

But the thing is, she never really had the drive to do anything, and for some reason, it made me want to try so much harder.

Things can come apart for so many different reasons. Be it fighting, pride, or the unknown. And things here came apart because of the latter. But I still think about her from time to time. She always brings a smile to my face, and I swear to God I'm so happy she's happy.

But for so often I've just lived on the theory of randimosity. Partial boredom, partial fear, partial short attention span. Randimosity is just the act of random being so completely random, it's beyond unusual.

I have people in my life now who make me happy. Old friends (Austin, Arleen, Thomas) and new friends (Miles, Ryan, "Nikolai Carpathia", Matt and Velvet (Seriously, I should just have a button to link her as often as I do, or at least owe her royalties or something) and it's a great feeling. One I've never had before. For some reason they seem to believe in me.

And for everyone else who's ever linked one of my blogs, or left a comment of encouragement, or an email...thanks. I have no idea why you'd take the time to do it, but thanks. I don't see it.

I'd also like to thank my "sponsors" of Nike. Make sure to check out those new Jordans, made by nimble fingers in Asian countries that are hard to pronounce. Check out their blog. Just do it.

But right now I'm at the crossroads of trying to figure out what I'm going to do with my life. And in the next few weeks, I'll be mapping things out here, for a few different reasons.

But thank you, friends. Thank you.

-Until tomorrow.

Friday, March 6, 2009

Drove her to the pad and I'm coastin', Took another sip of the potion hit the three-wheel motion. (Day 93)

I don't have too much to say. Go check out Piss and Vinegar, and For Your Consideration as both were updated yesterday. Also make sure to head on over to Ryan's blog, Emptying the Bastille. That should pretty much keep you somewhat satisfied for a brief bit, if you're just killing time.

Me, I'm going to continue eating these Austin Cheddar Cheese crackers. They taste like the forgiveness of a spurned lover.

What are everyones plans for this weekend?

Me, I'm particularly excited as some friends are coming down from California, and hopefully they can squeeze me into their schedule for a few minutes.

As for myself...I need to get the hell out of this place.

But hey, today I didn't even have to use my AK. I got to say it was a good day.

Thursday, March 5, 2009

The dirst whispered, "Child, I'm coming home." (Day 92)

Lately I cut my hair really short. For a while, I decided it'd be a great idea to go with a mohawk, but two days later I decided that really wasn't something I wished to pursue. So at this point, I'm very close to being bald.

I've never cut my hair this short before, I kind of like it. It's a nice transition, I think, into maybe becoming a *gulp* adult.

In the upcoming weeks, a lot will be happening. In two weeks I go in for an MRI on my knee in Phoenix, which is noteworthy in itself because it's the first procedure I've ever had, besides the actual surgery itself years ago, that took place outside of this city I live in/near.

I'm worried about the surgery afterwards, though.

I keep remembering back to the time after my initial surgery, and how completely useless I felt. If I were a horse, they would have shot me.

One of the cool things about the surgery was the pain killer ball they attached to my knee, inside the incision, along with the pain killers they prescribed me.

But the painkiller ball was interesting. It was filled with what I was told was a very low dose of morphine that would inject itself slowly throughout the course of a week without me noticing at all. So that, coupled with the painkillers they gave me...yeah, I don't remember much.

I remember though, having to sit on a chair for two weeks. Going to the bathroom was nearly impossible because every step I took felt like a nightmare come true.

It's funny, though. Rizzo, my cat, he never left my side the entire time. He's truly not like any other pet, let alone cat, I've ever seen before. Any one who has spent an extended time with him would agree with that, too.

But he'd be sleeping on the footstool, and I'd get up, and it'd take 15 minutes to get to the bathroom 10 feet away, and when I'd come back, that morphine ball would swing, and he decided it was his new toy. He pulled it out once, and I thought the world had ended.

But sitting there, I felt so useless. It reminded me about one of the worst things in my childhood.

I have a back condition that has no name, and no way of treatment. The only way I can explain what it is, is that, and thankfully this hasn't happened in years, I would be struck with temporary paralysis from the waist down. The rest of my body would radiate with these waves of tremendous, and blinding pain. I'd feel the crack in my back, and I'd black out.

One time it happened at a hotel in Tucson, and I blacked out longer than I remember it ever really happening. The last thing I really remembered was that I'd had back surgery, and was now in a hospital bed.

Every single joint and nerve ending in my body swamped me with pain. Even my tongue hurt.

Every drip of the IV was blinding, and for about two weeks I just laid there in pain.

And thats what worries me about now. At least when my knee gives out, a few days later I can kind of walk again, and even though it hurts, I'm not immobile.

But this worries me. Because the injury has progressed into something entirely worse than before. I'm not looking forward to this whatsoever.

In other news...

You may have noticed that today theres been some very slight and subtle changes to Days Gone By. Over the course of a week or so, I plan on making transitions from colors, to even a new template perhaps. Let me know what you think of the new changes.

-Until tomorrow.

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

Raise a toast to St. Joe Strummer. (Day 91)

Have you ever started working on a five year plan?

What does it include? How have you went about getting what it is you placed at that list, and have you ever had to compromise one until you get to the other.

I suppose you could say I'm working on a five year plan, at least in my head, but I think here in the next few days I might get around to actually posting it here.

Heads up. From here on out, this post contains the gratuitous glorification of drinking, exploration, and love for Denny's. All hail sweet lady alcohol, the cause of, and answer to all of most my problems:

"All my money's been spent
on a face lift via alcohol
this sinner repents
to an empty bathroom reflection." - Alkaline Trio, Old School Reasons.

I never really got around to talking about what happened over this weekend. Sure, there were the normal repeat offenders; drinking way to late into the night, butchering songs while singing them slightly intoxicated while on the way to Austins. Eating the fuck out of some of the most delicious burritos ever crafted. I'm dead serious.

But after most of hijinx were done Saturday, Austin took his dog Collin for a walk, and I wound up coming along. I know that sounds kind young men walking a dog late at night. Whatever, I don't care.

But heres the thing: Every time I get drunk or inebriated, I always want to explore the city I'm in. Everything, and I'm pretty sure this is a proven fact, everything is better in the night. The way the streetlights illuminate everything the sun forgot with it's shadows, I don't know.

But I really do love it. Most of my favorite drunken meanderings have taken place with Austin, actually.

One time at his old apartment complex in Casa Grande, this place called the Colony, which is this gated, semi-nice apartment complex. During the day, it's kind of whatever, theres literally nothing special about it. But drunkenly at 1am, it used to be a different beast of burden.

We used to drink quite a bit when we were younger, for whatever reason or the other. I think more or less it was more to signify the kind of...catching up we were doing, since predominantly throughout our high school careers, we didn't do much of any of those fun food groups. Not too much promiscuity, hardly any drinking, and little to no drug use whatsoever.

I don't really regret that decision at all, either. I don't have a kid or a crippling meth addiction, and I don't need a six pack in the morning just to start the day, either. Things have changed, or maybe modified and tweaked since then. Sure, take away drinking and whatever, and I'll starve to death, but's not something I'm dependent on.

But so his complex during the night, when you're messed up, especially on a Friday night, was just amazing. Drinking really actually enhances my vision, because it's so crappy regularly, it just can't get any worse. But lights, and everything really seem to pierce, and I actually love that, especially on cold nights stumbling with two drinks and hand and four in your hoodie pockets.

There were a lot of Alkaline Trio songs sung loudly with arms flung over friends shoulders into the night. In fact, the Alkaline Trio may in fact be the founding reason for our friendship. God knows we haven't seen each other sober since 2004.

But so we'd walk out into the night, bottle in hand to see what the night had in store for us. I really don't think the grass will ever be green in some parts of that complex...due to, you know...the urinating. I have a very strict urinating outside policy when I'm drunk, because I'm considerate...thats what I do.

But the rest of the complex seemed to be on the same page with us, too. I can't count the times it happened where we'd both wind up at separate parties during the night, only to drunkenly stumble into each other hours later.

The interesting thing though, about his complex, was that it's divided by this huge (and I mean massive) not quite park area, but it's this huge lawn with a sidewalk through it, and then after that theres another portion of the complex. But the lawn is divided, by both sides, with a steel gate thats locked at about 10 pm, because I guess they don't want the locals fraternizing or plotting against glorious leader, the Colony.

In fact, I can't fault it. It is like the Colonial times. Theres a North/South division. But being the flag wavers of freedom that Austin and I are, we crossed enemy lines to really bring unity to the other side of the Colony. It's patriotic if you think about it that way, actually. We found out that this guy, who we weren't really close to in High School (this is all post high school settings, mind you) lived on the opposite side of the Colony, so we decided we'd pay him visits.

We went there constantly, and I really apologize to the dude. He doesn't drink or anything, or at least didn't because his dad was a prick alcoholic, but he was cool with us being there drunk. But I feel bad because of the volume of which we visited drunkenly, and demanded Tupac be played loudly.

When you got the lock open on our side, you had to prop it open with a rock or something so you could get back to your original destination, and sleep like a little drunken angel in the comfort of four walls on the floor, like every God fearing American should be entitled too. One night I ran out out of beer, and walked back from the dudes apartment to Austins. I loaded up with a bunch of beers, about six (and yeah, Austin and I polished off at least 20 every time we did this) and went back to the other guys apartment.

I'd like to say something first. While I've stated above my passion for drunken exploration, I haven't stated that absolutely no distance whatsoever, is inconceivable to me when I'm intoxicated.

There was a time in Anaheim, where Austin and I, after having polished off quite a few drinks, decided we needed Denny's, and we needed it then and there. For you East Coasters, thats Friendly's, and Friendly's, I hate to say this West the fuck out of Denny's.

For those of you who don't know, Friendly's has a thing on their menu called the "Happy Ending". I don't care if it's puppy veal, with the puppy still whimpering, coated in the blood of my loved ones, and said puppy's mother with a glaze of all my broken dreams...if it's called the Happy Ending, I'm eating it and I'm going to fucking love it.

The waitresses, I think its company policy, have to be a ten. And the service is top effing notch, and when you're there drunk, they don't mind if you have an open container.

Some people suggest IHOP, and to those people I point at my dick, and say "suck this". IHOP, while okay for late night hang outs, is not fun when drunk. It does not have the same aura as Denny's or Friendly's, and I know there are a bunch of you (seeing as how you read me, this isn't even an assumption) who know exactly what it is I'm talking about.

Anyway, I've noticed in California that apparently on every corner theres a Denny's. And East Coast, if it were the same for Friendly's...I might have stayed.

Denny's is a safe haven, the promised land when your drunk at 3am, 4m and need to eat something, want to make new friends with the staff working over night. Theres just something, SOMETHING about those god damned booths thats medicinal.

The glow of the might as well be compared to the scene in Shaun of The Dead, where Shaun and Ed have their little tiff, and then Shaun stands up on the podium in front of all the zombies and waves his arms. It's a LOT like that, actually.

I want to go to there.

Well, anyway, it'd been a while since I'd seen Austin. He had moved to California, and was moving back, so I decided to take the bus overnight out there, hang out for a bit and then drive back with him.

Well, anyway, we were pretty lit. As far as drinking goes, my drinking buddy/guy I consider like a brother, moved away and I got all boring with a lame girlfriend who didn't like to drink all that often (until New Years, when she pretended she was drunk to take advantage of me three weeks later, can I get an amen-ah!) and up until recently, I had no one fun to just crack a bottle with, and enjoy their company. There were people willing, but it just wasn't fun.

You see, up until now, I didn't have any enablers, who were really willing to almost make it a competition to out do me. Sure, it's lead to a few situations where maybe I shouldn't be here anymore, but I'm a fucking champion. But my caliber of friends has vastly improved, and Austins still that end rules.

No slight on some of the people. Sometimes it's nice to kick back and sip. Sometimes. Just like it's nice to 'make love' sometimes. But there are times, more often than night, where if I'm drinking...get the fuck out of my way if you aren't going to go shot-for-shot. This isn't Mr Rogers Neighborhood (God rest his racist soul) this is the Thunderdome. There can be only one. Move aside if you want pussyfoot, I don't have time for that. This like 'fucking', it's gonna be fast, hard, and sometimes a little violent (in a good way, and if you don't what I'm talking about, you truly haven't lived), but all around great times.

But since it'd been a while since I'd just gotten plastered, it hit hard and with a vengeance. Like a 1940's wife who didn't have dinner ready in time, and the kids homework all done, I got hit from every angle.

Using our collective knowledge, which is actually quite a bit, we deduced logically that there would be a Denny's anywhere near by. Now, the bus ride up was strange enough, but the events after definitely hold their own weight, too.

As we were out of alcohol, and in desperate need of food, we decided first to get the beer. Priorities, friends. It's what makes this world fucking work. I suggest you get yours in order. As we stumbled the streets, I killed off the last of my beer, and hucked it across the street, and watched it shatter and shimmer in the Knotts Berry Farm parking lot. I actually feel bad about littering, though. But thats my memory of Knotts Berry Farm. My memory earlier that night of Disneyland was standing inside a bus terminal while it was pitch black, and some dudes were starring at me from the outside, lurking in the shadows. Great times.

As we walked towards Walgreens, or SavOn, or whatever it's called out there, we remembered, "oh duh. We aren't 21." Thats alright, more logical thinking prevailed: This is California, this is Anaheim, this is a Friday night. OF COURSE THERE WILL BE SOMEONE OF AGE WILLING TO BUY TWO FETCHING AND STRAPPING LADS DRUNKENLY STUMBLING THE STREETS MORE BEER.

And we were right. Sort of.

As we crossed this parking lot of this shady looking hotel (not saying ours was any less shady) a guy turned into the parking lot munching on some McDonald's fries. Austin being the more brazen of the two of us when intoxicated (at least at the time, I've gotten over this, and I'm happy I have) flagged this dude down. And by flag, I don't mean he waited until he parked his car, and got out, and calmly approached him after he vacated his vehicle. No. Oh, no no no.

Austin stood in front of the guys car, while he was driving, by standing in front of him and waving both hands in the air (like he just don't care). When the guy stopped, I mean it might just be our luck/my luck, or maybe it's just that I attract these kind of people, or everyone's just like this, but he asked what was up, calmly. Not something I would have expected. As Austin explained we needed beer, the guy said, "Oh hell yeah. Let me finish these fries, and I'll hook you guys up."

And he pulled into a parking space and ate.

Right around this time, I kind of put things together that maybe this guy wasn't exactly of good moral fiber. I mean, besides buying 20 year olds beer that he doesn't even know, there was just something about him that started to strike me odd. But at this point, after being on a Greyhound bus for 9 and a half hours, and being mad dogged outside of Disneyland, I said fuck it. It could've been Vlad Tepes for all I gave a shit.

So we waited for the dude. I peed in the parking lot, because thats what I do. I pee places.

A few minutes later the guy walked with us to Walgreens, bought us more delicious beer.

Great story, right?

Too bad it didn't end there.

After buying the beer, it turns out we'd made a new friend. The guy apparently wanted to "party" with us, knew some girls just on the same floor as us, only four doors away, and were apparently "DTF", etc. Oh, and also he had a lot of blow he was willing to share. We respectfully declined. Call me old fashioned, but if I'm going to get a case of the herp dog, I don't want it spurned on by some low rent drug dealer with McDonald's fries on his shirt.

I didn't know this at the time, but soon found out, that he'd also sold Austin what I'd consider to be, in laymens terms, a duffel bag of weed for about 20 dollars.

So with the alcohol secured, and the pot apparently, we decided it was time to find that god damned Denny's. So off we went through all these abandoned parking lots, assured that at any moment, some horizon would provide us with that yellow and red glow, that beacon, that haven for the intoxicated.

And oh, were we ever wrong. Talk about a cock block, Anaheim. What the shit, Mickey. Get on the effing ball. It might be a small world after all, but for God's sake it felt like Manifest Destiny denied looking for, and not finding, that Denny's. It's one of the biggest regrets of my life. Honestly.

We eventually would have settled for pizza, since there was a Papa John's right there. But of course they were closed. Why wouldn't they.

As we continued slightly further in vein, two girls in a white beamer rolled up next to us and rolled down their window asking, "are you holding?"

Austin, being ever accommodating said, "Maybe. Whatchu need, baby?" while casually strolling over, and doing the drug-dealer/hooker lean into the car window. It took all I had not to collapse on the ground laughing at the sheer audacity of a guy who barely had secured pot ten minutes ago, who ten minutes ago couldn't get a beer to save his life, went from Prohibition-Age suffer, to goddamned Tony Montana.

To this day it still cracks me up.

We finally settled on chips and salsa, and it was the best chips and salsa I've ever had in my entire life.

But back to the Colony. Distance is never a problem for me, especially drunkenly when it's at night. I'm all about that.

As I'd got myself the beers I so desperately needed to continue functioning, some fuck had moved the rock, locking me out of my destination. I was far too fucked up to scale the fence, and I couldn't figure out how we'd opened it prior. So...being the man that I am, I took a three point stance (I played football, I know what I'm doing) and shoulder tackled the gate as hard as I possibly could.

Apparently I'm stronger than steel, because that gate swung open really fast after the loud crash. I made it to the other side, and the other gate was easier to open because the knob was stuck so it was just a matter of some pulling (thats what she said). Unfortunately, it was only the second time I'd been to this guys apartment, and I was really trashed.

The distance from Austin's to this guy, especially factoring the multiple round trips, was easily a mile, which is an accomplishment when you are far from sober.

But I couldn't find the apartment. So I found some comfortable stairs to plot out my next plan of attack. After ten minutes, I decided I had beers that I'd tragically been neglecting. With five down, I decided that I'd just go to sleep on these strangers stone steps. Let them worry about the drunken kid in the Misfits shirt and hoodie in the morning. It'll be be a nice surprise. I'm like Folgers, baby...I'm the best part of waking up. Well, someone might have to verify that, I have no proof whatsoever.

I wound up being discovered by the rest of my group, and the drinking continued back at Austins, until I finally passed out on his floor.

But I leave you with a drinking anthem, from the masters of drunken lamenting and song writing. This is the Alkaline Trio, the greatest band in existence, and ever, and the song is "Old School Reasons" *referenced above*

"I've got a bottle in hand, straight to the ground with all my memories."


Thats all I've got tonight.

-Until tomorrow.

Tuesday, March 3, 2009

Fine enough, fine enough. Oh, we ate all the oranges off the navels off our lovers. (Day 90)

WOOOOO! Three months, bitches. Three. I've lasted longer than most mid-season replacement shows. Suck it.

So today, a variety of things happened, and since it seems to be the cool thing to do right now, I'll present them in list form. Not only that, but more things I've learned.

1.) I got into a fight with two old people, and while I definitely wasn't in the wrong (my foot was run over by one of their little scooters) I definitely got the last word in when I was told that they were entitled to do whatever they wanted because, and I quote, "I'M ELDERLY" to which I retorted, "THEN HURRY UP AND DIE, AND STOP HOGGING UP ALL THE FUCKING OXYGEN FROM THE NEWBORNS."

2.) Ed's cancer, knock on wood, appears to be gone. He will still have check ups here and there, but for now it looks like he's won this war.

3.) I've always hated Twitter. It can go Tweet itself. Right up it's tweeter. Bunch of twits. I'm glad no one else was in favor of my taking it on, I just wanted to make the best decision. Gracias!

4.) My food stamps and health insurance have been upped, and improved in the case of the FS.

5.) I've learned why I just cannot get into the Time Travelers Wife. It all makes sense. I have a little over a hundred pages to go, and the second I finish the final sentence, it's going in the toilet.

6.) She might not be a wizard, but she knows magic.

7.) I miss you Velvet.

8.) My cat is very strange. A lot of pet owners say that, but in this case, it's true.

9.) My mom is listening to some Yanni concert right now.

10.) Right now I wish I had a Colt 45. Liquor or weapon, I'm not picky.

11.) I don't do too poorly on cutting my own hair. I don't see why people pay so much for something they can do for free.

12.) My Uncles back, and now I want to shoot myself.

13.) I'm switching off of Horizons' (crazy town) service.

Theres been a lot of talk lately about turning Days Gone By/Piss and Vinegar/For Your Consideration, taking them and combining them into a one stop shop of a website. Along with information as to me having a book released, or anything like that.

I'm wondering what everyone else thinks of this, as well. The Twitter idea burst, and I'm glad to see that dead, but I want to do something new, I want to just try and I'm looking for ideas.

One of the biggest obstacles right now for me is money. So if anyone wants to give Aaron monies (goal of about 50 a year) this can be made into something legitimate!

Thats all I've got for now.

-Until tomorrow.

Monday, March 2, 2009

We can't spend our lives waiting to live. (Day 89)

I've been thinking a lot lately about Twittering.

I've always been highly against it because, minus our President/Elected officials, no one is that important or noteworthy that we need to know about every time they take a dump or cook a hot pocket.

But in the adverse, I can see the way the world is bending with the trends. And I want to be able to write, and live decently off of that. I have inexpensive taste, so theoretically, it's not entirely implausible, and people for some reason really like to have that accessibility to people. We've grown up in a society now, where our society is in love with reality shows and being able to voyeur.

And despite my personal feelings on that, other than it makes me kind of sick to think that the creators of the Real World were somehow visionaries. That's a category that also holds Mahatma Gandhi, Rosalind Franklin and Leonardo Da Vinci.

But I just wanna keep growing. I have to say lately I'm really surprised with the growth here (and Texas, I have no idea where you came from as far as readership here, but God bless you).

So my question I'm posing to you guys, do you think this Twitter is something I should ever invest in? Keep in mind that I don't even own a cell phone because I just haven't be able to justify why I would ever need one. I'm not that important that someone would ever need to contact me, honestly. I can't think of a time when someone needed to speak to me so direly. I have a home phone line, and an email, you know?

But as far as the medium of writing goes, you kind of have to swallow whatever shallow notions of 'integrity' you have, and that goes with anything. The times are changing so rapidly, you have to think miles ahead just to keep afloat.

So what do you guys think? I'd really appreciate a lot of comments on this.


It completely slipped my mind earlier, but in reference to last nights update from Ryan, God bless him, I came home after my weekend out to find out that my keyboard no longer worked.

This of course was devastating to me because the computer/internet is my life blood. Where I live is desolate and disconnected from this rest of civilization, and this is my portal to the world.

So Ryan stepped up and updated for me.

Turns out while I was gone, my mother spilled coffee on the keyboard, but because it didn't shoot sparks out, she figured that there was nothing wrong with it.

After tearing my room apart, I happened to find a keyboard that I think actually came with the house. I hate it. It's loud, and every keystroke sounds like a war. I mean that. It's loud, and it's annoying, and whatever. I'm also fairly sure it's literally older than I am, but works.

So if you have a keyboard you can donate, preferably one that doesn't sound like a cannon going off every time I type, I'd be eternally grateful.

-Until tomorrow.

Sunday, March 1, 2009

It's gonna get sadder, it's gonna get weirder until I'm gone. (Day 87)

Well hello there friends, I am not Aaron. No, unfortunately your plucky hero is out of commission of sorts for the next undetermined amount of days. He has broken keyboard issues and is taking donations to the cause.

So in the mean time he has come to me asking if I could take control of the helm while he’s getting himself sorted out. Though I don’t know why, I agreed to it and now you all are stuck with me, oh joy! For the uninitiated, my name is Ryan, I run a blog that he has listed in his links dubbed Emptying The Bastille. I suggest you check it out, for it is awesome and will increase your levels of awesome thrice-fold for merely glancing it's hallowed pages. I’ve done a few guest spots on here before so some of you might be familiar with me, but for those who aren’t, you’re about to find out.

So what can we expect now that Aaron is away and the hounds of Canada have come to play? Expect more maple syrup; lots and lots of maple syrup. Possibly rants about hookers and drugs. Waffles, breakfast is awesome. Lets just say it'll be a hodge podge of surprise, however not tonight. I have field placement tomorrow and I must rest my weary brown head so that I may be able to effectively deal with the rug rats, uh , I mean, children I work with.

I think we're gonna have us a grand old time here together. I mean, I spell things with "u"s like "favoUrite" and "coloUr"!! hilarity ensues.


- Until tomorrow.