Back to your regularly scheduled program that isn't weird writing.
Let's see. What do I have to say?
... Um... yeeeeeaaaahhh.
I'm getting a little miffed at my roommate. I mean, just a little. I can't remember the last time she did the dishes. She never takes out the garbage. I have the mail key so that's my job. She never cleans... anything. Ever.
I mean, yeah, sure, alright, a lot of the dishes are mine. I get it. I don't expect her to do the dishes all the time. I'll do them. I use them a little more often. Most of her dishes are a few bowls and coffee mugs. That's fine. But, like, dude, at least maybe help out once in awhile. I'm pretty sure the last time she did dishes was April or May. Not kidding.
She's never cleaned anything in the house. Except her coffee pot that was growing mold.
Sometimes she'll take out the bathroom garbage and put it in the kitchen garbage.
That's about where our story ends.
I dunno, dude. I'm tired. I work 8-9-10 hour days. I bust my ass. I'm hot and sweaty and uncomfortable and usually irritated and all I want to do is sit and have a beer. Or some rum. Or vodka. Alcoholic tendencies aside, I just like to rest for a bit. Check the internet. Maybe write a little. Yes, I usually have two to three days off a week. Yes, I could be doing something with that time aside from watching cartoons in my underwear until 4pm. I fully realize that. But... man, just grab the broom and sweep the kitchen once in awhile. It takes 30 seconds.
Gah. I'm being nitpicky.
I think the real problem is that I don't want to wait to move to Madison. I want to go now. Right now. And yes, part of it is because I know I can't co-exist with my Assistant Store Leader and, to an extent, my Store Leader.
Work is a joke.
In other news, that somewhat contradicts what I just said, I think I've reached a point where I'm pretty happy with life. Well, alright. I think I reached that point a few months ago. But it kind of dawned on me last night. I'm not really sad when I go to bed anymore. I don't fall asleep with the TV on because I need to, because I need a distraction anymore. I fall asleep on the couch mostly because of the habit I picked up when I had to separate the boys. It was easier to maintain harmony by falling asleep here than try to recreate it when going to sleep in a nice, comfy bed.
The only real problems in my life are the aforementioned work and, currently, a money issue that will hopefully be resolved soon. Part of that problem is that no one is getting hours at work. But that's what Biolife is for. Also, I have my savings account.
That I want filled up faster. Because I want to move. Fuck.
And it doesn't help because I want a billion tattoos like yesterday. I wonder if I can get my dad to buy them for me for my birthday. But, I WILL need new tires around that time. Dang. Decisions, decisions.
I suppose I do have three issues, because I'm still battling back and fourth about my cats. I almost posted a plea to Facebook today, but then I stopped myself. I guess five years is enough for me to not want to give either of them away. The problem is that I'll easily be shelling out at least 25 bucks a month to keep somewhat of a level of peace in the house. I guess I don't know what to do. I want time to make it better. And time, as always, heals all wounds. But... fuck, man. You know? It sucks. I think another part of the reason I want to move so badly is because I think a new setting will help. It will take away all territory issues that may or may not be happening. (Tristen seems to stick to the front of the house, Jasper in the back. Sometimes they're both in the living room, but it's weird.)
But that's about it. I need to finish writing Truth. I might even get Sammy to edit it. Unless I can find someone else with the time. But, let's be honest, it's hard to edit a story when you've got two boys at your side at all times. Heh.
Aaaaaanyway. I should go to bed.
Hahaha I'm not going to go to bed. I don't work for another eight hours. That's silly.
[boom]
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Friday, July 13, 2012
And now for something completely different
Finally, it's a cold night out. I can feel the faint breeze touching the stable, warm summer air. A dying fire pops, struggling to keep it's flame dancing in front of me. The pop is barely heard. It's so commonplace. So familiar.
So safe.
I barely register that it's there. The dark canopy above my head has my attention. It's always there, it's a constant. It never leaves, it only changes it's view. I can see satellites moving gingerly across the abyss. I keep searching. Constellations, satellites, planes... it's not what I want. Then again, what do I want?
Under the blanket of darkness, it's hard to tell. It's always hard to tell. The night has a way of bringing things to my forefront, bringing things I never realized were there. It's all there. It's always there. It's just got a different way of presenting itself, of hiding itself.
My thoughts are the night sky. They're always the same, only at a different perspective.
There's a dog barking in the distance. Whatever it is, where ever it is, it's loud and annoying. I can tell it's small.
Not that it matters. It's mere noise, playing against my internal dialogues. So what it is? What is it in my mind that always finds it's way when it's dark? What it is about the dark that's so... liberating? I can feel myself. I can feel all the things that I hide during the day. All of it. It's why I fall asleep watching TV at night. My mind stays silent, consumed by whatever it is that I have playing. The couch is more my bed than my bed. That is until about 5am, when I wake up and drag myself away.
I'm still waiting. I can't find what I'm looking for.
My writing has stopped. Why? Why can't I produce the beautiful words and picturesque scenes like I once could? What's wrong with me? Am I broken? Is it a new found happiness and confidence that's causing a power outage of creativity? Why can't I have my cake and eat it too?
The fire pops back to a barely-there state of life. One lone flame flickers on the edge of a log. It's trying hard to keep up. It puts up a valiant fight and I find myself immersed in the dancing yellow light.
It can't fight hard enough.
Another small breeze. I close my eyes and let the air wash over me. It's refreshing. It's perfect. I could sleep out here.
I sometimes wonder if my mother's refusal to talk to my dad is because of me. To an extent, it hurts. To an extent, I want to punch her in the mouth. Then I realize that it doesn't matter. As much as it might sting, I push the thought away. I have no way of confirming this or denying it. There is just nothing.
The dog has finally stopped barking. The night is thick with undead silence. Undead because it's barely alive. Undead because it doesn't need to be there at all.
I rest my head back after taking another drink of vodka. Typical. I'm becoming my father in both humorous and terrifying ways. There's always a drink in my hand. I know some are talking. There are jokes, snide remarks. No one can label me but myself.
And sometimes, I don't know who I am.
But as surely as the night sky can strip me of my face, the face that few can see past... a face that I LET few see past, the night can also give strength. It gives hope, it gives desire. It gives me a chance.
A chance to appreciate where I am now compared to where I used to be. I used to be broken. I still am broken, but in a semi-functional kind of way. I'll never be perfect. I'll never not be somewhat paranoid. I don't know if I can ever trust more than one or two people fully. I'll always be the night sky. The same person, from a different perspective. For better, or for worse. Forever evolving, forever changing. Always trying to bring out the best in people. In me.
There it is.
There's my shooting star.
I don't even need the wish right now. I just want all to be golden in the sky. And, damnit, I'm going to have my golden sky.
[boom]
So safe.
I barely register that it's there. The dark canopy above my head has my attention. It's always there, it's a constant. It never leaves, it only changes it's view. I can see satellites moving gingerly across the abyss. I keep searching. Constellations, satellites, planes... it's not what I want. Then again, what do I want?
Under the blanket of darkness, it's hard to tell. It's always hard to tell. The night has a way of bringing things to my forefront, bringing things I never realized were there. It's all there. It's always there. It's just got a different way of presenting itself, of hiding itself.
My thoughts are the night sky. They're always the same, only at a different perspective.
There's a dog barking in the distance. Whatever it is, where ever it is, it's loud and annoying. I can tell it's small.
Not that it matters. It's mere noise, playing against my internal dialogues. So what it is? What is it in my mind that always finds it's way when it's dark? What it is about the dark that's so... liberating? I can feel myself. I can feel all the things that I hide during the day. All of it. It's why I fall asleep watching TV at night. My mind stays silent, consumed by whatever it is that I have playing. The couch is more my bed than my bed. That is until about 5am, when I wake up and drag myself away.
I'm still waiting. I can't find what I'm looking for.
My writing has stopped. Why? Why can't I produce the beautiful words and picturesque scenes like I once could? What's wrong with me? Am I broken? Is it a new found happiness and confidence that's causing a power outage of creativity? Why can't I have my cake and eat it too?
The fire pops back to a barely-there state of life. One lone flame flickers on the edge of a log. It's trying hard to keep up. It puts up a valiant fight and I find myself immersed in the dancing yellow light.
It can't fight hard enough.
Another small breeze. I close my eyes and let the air wash over me. It's refreshing. It's perfect. I could sleep out here.
I sometimes wonder if my mother's refusal to talk to my dad is because of me. To an extent, it hurts. To an extent, I want to punch her in the mouth. Then I realize that it doesn't matter. As much as it might sting, I push the thought away. I have no way of confirming this or denying it. There is just nothing.
The dog has finally stopped barking. The night is thick with undead silence. Undead because it's barely alive. Undead because it doesn't need to be there at all.
I rest my head back after taking another drink of vodka. Typical. I'm becoming my father in both humorous and terrifying ways. There's always a drink in my hand. I know some are talking. There are jokes, snide remarks. No one can label me but myself.
And sometimes, I don't know who I am.
But as surely as the night sky can strip me of my face, the face that few can see past... a face that I LET few see past, the night can also give strength. It gives hope, it gives desire. It gives me a chance.
A chance to appreciate where I am now compared to where I used to be. I used to be broken. I still am broken, but in a semi-functional kind of way. I'll never be perfect. I'll never not be somewhat paranoid. I don't know if I can ever trust more than one or two people fully. I'll always be the night sky. The same person, from a different perspective. For better, or for worse. Forever evolving, forever changing. Always trying to bring out the best in people. In me.
There it is.
There's my shooting star.
I don't even need the wish right now. I just want all to be golden in the sky. And, damnit, I'm going to have my golden sky.
[boom]
Friday, July 6, 2012
Who could love me? I am out of my mind.
Heeeyyy.
My eyes are tired. I have no idea how far into this I'm going to get.
Do they make kitty muzzles because jesus christ shut up Tristen. Seriously. I'm right fucking here. Stop being an asshole and we can be a family again. Sigh.
Anyway. So I did some thinking yesterday. It was kind of random, but I'll roll with it because I never have anything good to say anyway.
So, Sam and I went to see Ted. Which was awesome and I enjoy it a lot except for the part where it kind of skeeves me out. Though, let's be honest with each other blog, I ham it up because you seem to enjoy my uncomfortability. Is that a word? It fucking is now. Bam.
Anyway. So as we're walking out of the theatre, I see one of my old roommates/someone who used to be one of my closest friends. Now, in high school, she was kind of the weird one of the group. She wore big platform shoes, and she was like, 5'10" to begin with. She had Garfield on everything. She was just... interesting. She's the one that we called "God" because in Jr. High she delivered notes for the office and learned like, all of our schedules for 6th hour. Kind of weird.
But then she got her first boyfriend, who we all called Surfer Barbie because, well, that's what he looked like.
It's weird seeing her now. She's out-right slutted herself up. It didn't help that she went to school for computers and was the only girl in the field, so all the nerds were falling over her. She's not unattractive, so I can see how they would be confused.
But it got me to thinking about High School. I mean, it's just weird. Like, in High School... we don't know who we are. We're starting to figure it out. We THINK we know. We have no clue. I think back to who I was six years ago and who I am at this very moment, typing these tired words in a dimly lit living room. It's different. Believe it or not, I'm more confident. Stronger. A little more brave. I know, it sounds funny because I'm awkward and shy and... well, I guess I am kind of strong mentally but I'm stronger now. Now, if someone were to, say, try to string me along for three years and make my life a living hell, I don't know if I would let it happen. I also have a better support network and I'm pretty sure some people, blog, would be pretty keen on killing that kind of shit on the quickfast.
I honestly can't tell if I hate myself more or less. I think it's less. I think that my confidence links to it. Don't misunderstand me, I don't think I'm awesome... all the time. I have my faults and, for once, I actually know what they are.
It's just weird. Seeing how people change both inside and out. (I haven't changed all that much on the outside. At least I don't think? I haven't truly known my weight since I was a freshman in high school.)
It's weird to see people change, for better or worse. Luckily, I'm at a point in my life where I don't need or want shitty people around me. I can finally say "wow, yeah, you suck go away." And that's nice. I think that's the confidence thing, too. It's like, I know that I can make MORE friends and not have to settle for anyone and their backwards, retarded bullshit. It's pretty great.
This seems too positive a blog for me, though, so... uh... I....
I got nothin'. I mean, I could I guess? But really, what's the point in worrying about shit when I know everything's gonna work itself out.
My name is Torch, and my element is Loyalty. Also awesomeness. Cos I'm The Miz... and I'm... AWWWWWWWWEEEEESSSSSOOOMMME. (I would totally change that to your ringtone if I wasn't hellbent on never changing your ringtone ever. Not that I think you're awesome, blog, I'm just saying it fits your self-proclaimed awesomeness.)
Goodnight.
[boom]
My eyes are tired. I have no idea how far into this I'm going to get.
Do they make kitty muzzles because jesus christ shut up Tristen. Seriously. I'm right fucking here. Stop being an asshole and we can be a family again. Sigh.
Anyway. So I did some thinking yesterday. It was kind of random, but I'll roll with it because I never have anything good to say anyway.
So, Sam and I went to see Ted. Which was awesome and I enjoy it a lot except for the part where it kind of skeeves me out. Though, let's be honest with each other blog, I ham it up because you seem to enjoy my uncomfortability. Is that a word? It fucking is now. Bam.
Anyway. So as we're walking out of the theatre, I see one of my old roommates/someone who used to be one of my closest friends. Now, in high school, she was kind of the weird one of the group. She wore big platform shoes, and she was like, 5'10" to begin with. She had Garfield on everything. She was just... interesting. She's the one that we called "God" because in Jr. High she delivered notes for the office and learned like, all of our schedules for 6th hour. Kind of weird.
But then she got her first boyfriend, who we all called Surfer Barbie because, well, that's what he looked like.
It's weird seeing her now. She's out-right slutted herself up. It didn't help that she went to school for computers and was the only girl in the field, so all the nerds were falling over her. She's not unattractive, so I can see how they would be confused.
But it got me to thinking about High School. I mean, it's just weird. Like, in High School... we don't know who we are. We're starting to figure it out. We THINK we know. We have no clue. I think back to who I was six years ago and who I am at this very moment, typing these tired words in a dimly lit living room. It's different. Believe it or not, I'm more confident. Stronger. A little more brave. I know, it sounds funny because I'm awkward and shy and... well, I guess I am kind of strong mentally but I'm stronger now. Now, if someone were to, say, try to string me along for three years and make my life a living hell, I don't know if I would let it happen. I also have a better support network and I'm pretty sure some people, blog, would be pretty keen on killing that kind of shit on the quickfast.
I honestly can't tell if I hate myself more or less. I think it's less. I think that my confidence links to it. Don't misunderstand me, I don't think I'm awesome... all the time. I have my faults and, for once, I actually know what they are.
It's just weird. Seeing how people change both inside and out. (I haven't changed all that much on the outside. At least I don't think? I haven't truly known my weight since I was a freshman in high school.)
It's weird to see people change, for better or worse. Luckily, I'm at a point in my life where I don't need or want shitty people around me. I can finally say "wow, yeah, you suck go away." And that's nice. I think that's the confidence thing, too. It's like, I know that I can make MORE friends and not have to settle for anyone and their backwards, retarded bullshit. It's pretty great.
This seems too positive a blog for me, though, so... uh... I....
I got nothin'. I mean, I could I guess? But really, what's the point in worrying about shit when I know everything's gonna work itself out.
My name is Torch, and my element is Loyalty. Also awesomeness. Cos I'm The Miz... and I'm... AWWWWWWWWEEEEESSSSSOOOMMME. (I would totally change that to your ringtone if I wasn't hellbent on never changing your ringtone ever. Not that I think you're awesome, blog, I'm just saying it fits your self-proclaimed awesomeness.)
Goodnight.
[boom]
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