Monday, June 27, 2011

Jeering Pup

I think facebook is a terrible thing. I now have the ability to read, reread, rereread, and rerereread everything I've ever said to anybody. And I usually do.

Characters that smoke cigarettes in movies/tv shows often start wearing nicotine patches the moment they get into a relationship that they actually enjoy.

If you think I'm gonna climb through a broken window in a thirty dollar suit you've got another thing coming, buster.

Keep your chin up, kid. The winter's gonna end soon, and you'll be feeling alright in the sunshine again.

Breakfasts, Lunches, Dinners, Swims, Programs, Games, Showers, Beds, Bottles. I still have no idea what I want to do.

I think I'm going to take my niece to the pool. That is something that has never happened in the past 197,826 hours of my life.

Sunday, June 19, 2011

The Big Man

Died yesterday.

I don't really go to concerts, but it's nice to have the option. Bruce won't be the same.

Saturday, June 18, 2011

Bifröst


I lied once. I love poetry. It's difficult to connect, and I hate callow attempts at obtaining "deepness" but I'll still get something out of it.

I guess I'm pretty judgmental. But I don't think it's as bad as it sounds. If you walk a dog down a street full of dogs walking down the street, then you'll notice that each dog walking down the street interacts differently with your dog walking down the street. Fight/Flight, Bark/Bite. You can get a pretty good idea of people based on how they walk, talk, and look. Same goes with writing. In my search for pained individuals through the use of the Next Blog button, nine times out of ten I'll read four words and move on. Maybe I'll simply look at the color scheme and decide it's not for me. I don't care about reading about what movies people saw or what pasta they pasta'ed that day. I don't want to know about how much you watered your Jack in the pulpit or how much chocolate you eat on your period. I want emotion and feeling. I want to read something and hurt or smile or laugh or think shit that's a fun game (video game blogs are an exception).

Right now I'm stuck traversing through an endless stream of running and exercise blogs. Talk about discouragement, I'm supposed to spend hours running and then come home and talk about it? Sorry guys, but I've done a lot of running in my life, and it is honestly one of the most boring past times there is. I don't think I could find a way to make it interesting. "Today I moved my legs for thirty minutes longer than I moved my legs yesterday." "Today I saw a turtle." Actually that doesn't sound that bad. But shit, running is boring. If you're going somewhere, cool. But shit, running is boring.

Next we have the parental and family blogs. These are cute and all and probably show the happiest times in many of these people's lives, but still not really what I'm looking for. Two of my siblings are parents now, so I've seen some baby love lately and I understand the desire to track it and let other people know. I just don't care to read it, at least not now. My mom feels the need to tell me on a regular basis that I need to make sure I get all my traveling and everything else I want to do out of the way before I have a kid, as if she somehow thinks that if she isn't careful I'm going to start making babies behind her back. She does not need to worry, I still have some things I need to do.

Logically following family blogs are religion blogs. When I first bought myself a journal, I intended to mainly use it to connect closer with my beliefs. Now, not so much. I think faith is great, but I feel like it should be present within other things and not a category in-itself.

Now I'm on gardening blogs. These I actually don't mind so much because there's always loads of beautiful pictures. I can't bring myself to read any of the words between the pictures, but these plants are damn cool. I think there's always going to be a part of me that wants to live on a farm or ranch somewhere. Or maybe just have a kickass garden. Or maybe just have a wife that has a kickass garden. Or just have a door that leads outside.

There are a lot of old women bloggers. I guess that shouldn't be too surprising, but I still think its weird when old people use the internet. There's probably buckets of knowledge and life lessons hidden away in their daily recaps. The first post I read was title "I sure do miss you a lot!" and told the story of a woman who had just lost her mother who had been in an old folks home. The woman talks about how happy her mother was every time the daughter would come to visit. I think about this, and I think about how many times I hear people my age talk about how they want to die before they're old. It seems nice right? No old folks home, no hip replacements, no social security issues. I think this is the most selfish thing you can say to anyone. The only person that doesn't suffer in death is the one who dies.

Mother's are the most frightening and powerful beings on the earth.

I like poetry written by men more.

Thursday, June 16, 2011

Xibalba

"Please, leave me alone. I don't know how it ends."

I graduated from college on May 13. It has been over a month since I took my last final. It's not any better. The nights are the worst. Mornings suck too.

Remember when dreams were cool and exciting? Now they just taunt me with things I don't have. Every day I wake up and realize that, of course, it wasn't real. How could you not see it? Where have you been?

So it turns out I'm not an interesting individual. I'm a boring, unexciting old man who's going to be stuck in his house for the rest of his life. I'm sorry, I don't have enough money to see the world. One day I will. And one day I will.

The search for a job is about as fun as you would expect. I'm considering going to graduate school and taking night classes and working during the day. Then I'd be a real pinocchio.

"I can only count on myself." That's actually how I've lived my entire life. It's not the way to go. Good luck.

In my life I have only met one person who thought the same way I did, and that's not even really the case anymore. So whenever someone tells me that we think the same way, I immediately think they're wrong. And individuals usually do not think they're wrong when they believe something, implying that the two of us are already thinking differently. Do you get what I'm saying? I was told more than once in high school that I was unlike anybody else people had ever met. This was not always a good thing, but it was a "thing" nonetheless. Now, maybe I've lost some of my true self in the shit pipe that was the college experience, but honestly I haven't changed that much. I thought I had for a while, but it's not true. Four years later, I'm still the same overly romanticized individual that hides almost everything he's really thinking.

Maybe that's why I like writing here despite hating blogs in general. I don't want anyone to read it, I don't write for anyone but myself. It helps me see the things that never find their way into conversations. Which is a problem with how we are. Text messages, facebook, skype. It's next to impossible to create a situation where I can talk real shit with someone face to face.

There's a dog at my house now named Penny. I think she is here to show me what I really am, both the positives and negatives. I love her and think she is great when she's comfortable, but she is also the most skiddish creature I've ever met. Any wrong movement makes her nervous. Any deviation from her set plan creates an unearthly fiasco. I'm not much different. I have a set way for how I think things should be. And it works for a while, but it's not right. I don't know why I stopped everything for the past five months. It was if I knew time was limited and had to trap it. In response I was nervous, I blanked, time sped up, I missed it. Oops. Better luck next time. Fucker.