there was this event at my school today in front of the library. i have no idea who sponsored it, but there was an in-an-out truck serving hamburgers. loads of people were lined-up. i think they were giving them away, but i'm not sure. i walked past it on my way to the art and music area of the school. I don't have any classes in that section. i just like that area of campus because it's usually quiet. it's up some stairs so it's relatively isolated and there are fewer people around.
i don't know, sometimes i worry i'm going to be alone the rest of my life. i go out of my way to avoid crowds and social interaction; i prefer to sit alone rather than near a busy walkway.
during small group discussions in my multicultural lit. class i was supposed to be interacting with the three other people in my group, yet i just couldn't bear to. it wasn't that i disliked them. it almost feels like boredom; i'm uninterested in making small talk, smiling, laughing, asking questions, and listening to them.
boredom is becoming a reoccurring theme in my life. i don't have any friends at school, so i leave as soon as my class is over. i have a light school schedule so most of the time i'm sitting at home on my computer. swimming is becoming repetitive and i force myself to continue. lifting weights is still okay, but each week feels the same.
it feels pathetic to admit, but i'm afraid of getting a job because then i would have to meet people and put myself out there. my social anxiety is not more damaging than in this regard. my fears, i've noticed, hardly ever come true. when i overcome them i kick myself for not overcoming them sooner. cures don't work that way, though. anxiety is diminishing my life.
i'm trying to make this place. . . my blog, i guess, into more of a diary. i want to record my life more.
diary has always had a feminine connotation in my mind. girls have diaries, boys have journals. but they're not the same: diaries are for recording one's life; journals are for pasting stuff from glamor magazines. admittedly, that's just my opinion.
nostalgia is one of my favorite feelings in the world. it's saddening, but it feels good too. it feels powerful, i should say, and you get swept up in it easily like a really good story or movie or song.
when i was looking at old photos i took in 2006 on my long-forgotten flickr account, it made me miss my life back then, which is an unfortunate misdirection because i didn't like my life back then. when i say back then, i mean my freshman year of high school.
when i look at those photos, i feel like i could have done anything with my life. there was hope, a boundless amount that i don't have anymore. that kind of hope is gone now. this is normal, as far as i can see. i haven't stopped hoping for good things, but i've stopped expecting them.
Themes covered in this post: isolation, social anxiety,
boredom/disenchantment, importance of social communication, social skills,
purposefulness by means of employment, gender assumptions in language,
nostalgia, hope, loss of hope with experience, angst, sadness, depression.
Wednesday, May 29, 2013
Sunday, May 26, 2013
may 26 2013
it's 2:27 in the morning. i just came home from a party at my friends house. i don't know why i'm writing this. maybe to record my experiences at a party.
i got there around 10:40. everyone was sitting in the backyard already drunk. people were playing beer pong. i've never actually played beer pong and drank. the couple of times i've played i've let my partner drink all of the beer.
i sat down and talked for a while. people were forming in and out of little groups. then we started playing music. my friend started choosing songs on his iphone, then a laptop. it kinda devolved into an ironic sort of enjoyment. playing old songs that were popular when we were in middle school, old school gangster rap, overplayed hip hop.
my friend has a pit bull. it was walking around everywhere. it has to weigh 60 or 80 pounds, mostly muscle. it took a bag of chips from a table and carried it in its mouth. it started tearing open the bag. i, smartly, thought it would eat the plastic, so i, smartly, tried to take the bag away. it snapped at me and banged it's skull against my hand. that was three hours ago and my hand is still sore. i'm lucky it didn't bite me. i'm also really, really stupid.
there was a girl at this party. (isn't there always a girl?) i've seen her a few times before. i kept hoping something would happen. i don't know what. just something. i repeated to myself, 'nothing's going to happen. nothing's going to happen.' nothing happened.
then i went inside for a while and sat on the couch. i was feeling tired and out of it. my friend walked in, drunk, and sat down next to me. we talked for a bit. the small talk trailed off and died a few times. i guess we have nothing to talk about. we're not particularly close.
then i went back outside and started ironically dancing. just me, no one else. i bent my legs a little, leaned back a little, and made little thrusts with my hips, keeping my left arm loose and hanging, and my right hand holding a water bottle at hip level. i had fun dancing. i wasn't drunk. i didn't have anything to drink all night.
then every started winding down. you know that period when all the drunk people begin to mellow out and get tired. we helped clean up, and people started moving to the front yard. that girl was sitting out there, and a part of me wanted to stay a little while longer in the hope anything would happen. another part, the louder part, said, 'fuck that. nothing's going to happen, don't expect anything to happen. go home already.' tonight, the louder side won. i had to drop off two other friends before i finally drove home.
i forgot to mention a friend of mine unexpectedly left the party and didn't come back. he literally lives across the street from the party, so i assumed he went home. i find out later that he's meeting a girl. good for him. now if only i could do the same.
i got there around 10:40. everyone was sitting in the backyard already drunk. people were playing beer pong. i've never actually played beer pong and drank. the couple of times i've played i've let my partner drink all of the beer.
i sat down and talked for a while. people were forming in and out of little groups. then we started playing music. my friend started choosing songs on his iphone, then a laptop. it kinda devolved into an ironic sort of enjoyment. playing old songs that were popular when we were in middle school, old school gangster rap, overplayed hip hop.
my friend has a pit bull. it was walking around everywhere. it has to weigh 60 or 80 pounds, mostly muscle. it took a bag of chips from a table and carried it in its mouth. it started tearing open the bag. i, smartly, thought it would eat the plastic, so i, smartly, tried to take the bag away. it snapped at me and banged it's skull against my hand. that was three hours ago and my hand is still sore. i'm lucky it didn't bite me. i'm also really, really stupid.
there was a girl at this party. (isn't there always a girl?) i've seen her a few times before. i kept hoping something would happen. i don't know what. just something. i repeated to myself, 'nothing's going to happen. nothing's going to happen.' nothing happened.
then i went inside for a while and sat on the couch. i was feeling tired and out of it. my friend walked in, drunk, and sat down next to me. we talked for a bit. the small talk trailed off and died a few times. i guess we have nothing to talk about. we're not particularly close.
then i went back outside and started ironically dancing. just me, no one else. i bent my legs a little, leaned back a little, and made little thrusts with my hips, keeping my left arm loose and hanging, and my right hand holding a water bottle at hip level. i had fun dancing. i wasn't drunk. i didn't have anything to drink all night.
then every started winding down. you know that period when all the drunk people begin to mellow out and get tired. we helped clean up, and people started moving to the front yard. that girl was sitting out there, and a part of me wanted to stay a little while longer in the hope anything would happen. another part, the louder part, said, 'fuck that. nothing's going to happen, don't expect anything to happen. go home already.' tonight, the louder side won. i had to drop off two other friends before i finally drove home.
i forgot to mention a friend of mine unexpectedly left the party and didn't come back. he literally lives across the street from the party, so i assumed he went home. i find out later that he's meeting a girl. good for him. now if only i could do the same.
Monday, May 20, 2013
May 20 2013
warning: angst and disgusting self-pity and immaturity ahead. deeply personal reflection and grief. stupidity. insecurity. sadness.
just to vent
introduction:
I've realized I have low self-esteem.
Story about my day:
I wasn't sure if I was going to go to class today. I skipped my first class because I was ashamed; I was ashamed to face my professor because my efforts in both her classes have been abysmal. This is how I figured out I have low self-esteem. 'What's the worst that could happen?' I thought to myself. One, that she kicks me out of her classes for good. That would be bad, yeah, but at least I wouldn't have to worry about them. Second, she embarrasses me in front of the class, much like how I imagine that other professor probably did after I left because I didn't read the books. Yeah, that's bad, but fuck them. Like they're so perfect, you know? Third, she dislikes me and tells me so. Yeah. Whatever.
i did end up going to my second class. she seemed a little off-put when she saw me. poor woman. from what I've seen this semester, she's a really nice person, and it hurt me a little bit to not be doing well in her class.
lecture went as normal. then class ended and i spoke with her. in summary, i won't/can't pass her classes, but i'll still be attending them; i can still turn in my essay, but it'll be marked down for lateness. my heart was beating fast and hard; i could see my t-shirt moving up and down because my heart was beating really hard. my voice was shaky and i felt my throat closing up with anxiety. why can't i just fucking talk to people?
who cares about this? i don't even care. this sucks. i fucking suck.
i like the courses though. mythology. multicultural literature. that's why i'll still attend class.
story about buying books:
there was this girl at barnes&noble. i mean this young woman. normal, ordinary person. she was hovering around me a bit. don't know if it was intentional or not; for this story, it doesn't really matter. i thought i saw her give me a once-over--you know, look at someone from their face down to their body and then back up again. it felt like she seemed interested.
regardless, here's my point. even though i wanted to talk to her, i don't know how. i don't know how to connect with women. how would i have entered a conversation with her? how would i know if she would even want to talk to me? it's just this game that i suck at. I'm scared to play.
thoughts and such:
The more I thought about it, the more I realized I shouldn't be scared to return to class. I didn't feel able to live my life and deal with consequences. I still don't, to an extent, but today I overcame this fear a little more.
My own insecurities don't stem from beliefs about myself, but rather from a belief that everybody else is incredibly vain and judgmental. I don't trust people. I have low self-esteem.
Sometimes I don't care. Other times I care and I'm scared. Life is so freaking hard sometimes, you know? I'm trying to get better. These feelings of worthlessness and inferirotiy won't go away over night. You know, for all the working out, swmming, exercerising I've done the past year and a half, I still feel weak on the inside. I feel scared and tense; I feel nervous all the time by other people and new situations. I want to cry sometimes but I can't; I can't even properly feel sorry for myself. Most of the time I feel nothing. there's this urge inside me to do something that will better my life--like get a job, or work harder at school, or even get a girlfriend--but there's a block in my way. fear stops me. i'm scared all the time because i don't want to be alone, or thought of as inferior to other people. this is irrational; i know that i'm not so different from other people, and I know in the end we've all got our problems. this isn't a problem that can be cured logically though. i can't think my way out of it, i don't believe. so how do I help myself? how do i solve, overcome, conquer, and put away my fear? or do i succeed and thrive in spite of it? it's so hard, and I feel very weak and helpless. i don't feel good enough. i just don't.
just to vent
introduction:
I've realized I have low self-esteem.
Story about my day:
I wasn't sure if I was going to go to class today. I skipped my first class because I was ashamed; I was ashamed to face my professor because my efforts in both her classes have been abysmal. This is how I figured out I have low self-esteem. 'What's the worst that could happen?' I thought to myself. One, that she kicks me out of her classes for good. That would be bad, yeah, but at least I wouldn't have to worry about them. Second, she embarrasses me in front of the class, much like how I imagine that other professor probably did after I left because I didn't read the books. Yeah, that's bad, but fuck them. Like they're so perfect, you know? Third, she dislikes me and tells me so. Yeah. Whatever.
i did end up going to my second class. she seemed a little off-put when she saw me. poor woman. from what I've seen this semester, she's a really nice person, and it hurt me a little bit to not be doing well in her class.
lecture went as normal. then class ended and i spoke with her. in summary, i won't/can't pass her classes, but i'll still be attending them; i can still turn in my essay, but it'll be marked down for lateness. my heart was beating fast and hard; i could see my t-shirt moving up and down because my heart was beating really hard. my voice was shaky and i felt my throat closing up with anxiety. why can't i just fucking talk to people?
who cares about this? i don't even care. this sucks. i fucking suck.
i like the courses though. mythology. multicultural literature. that's why i'll still attend class.
story about buying books:
there was this girl at barnes&noble. i mean this young woman. normal, ordinary person. she was hovering around me a bit. don't know if it was intentional or not; for this story, it doesn't really matter. i thought i saw her give me a once-over--you know, look at someone from their face down to their body and then back up again. it felt like she seemed interested.
regardless, here's my point. even though i wanted to talk to her, i don't know how. i don't know how to connect with women. how would i have entered a conversation with her? how would i know if she would even want to talk to me? it's just this game that i suck at. I'm scared to play.
thoughts and such:
The more I thought about it, the more I realized I shouldn't be scared to return to class. I didn't feel able to live my life and deal with consequences. I still don't, to an extent, but today I overcame this fear a little more.
My own insecurities don't stem from beliefs about myself, but rather from a belief that everybody else is incredibly vain and judgmental. I don't trust people. I have low self-esteem.
Sometimes I don't care. Other times I care and I'm scared. Life is so freaking hard sometimes, you know? I'm trying to get better. These feelings of worthlessness and inferirotiy won't go away over night. You know, for all the working out, swmming, exercerising I've done the past year and a half, I still feel weak on the inside. I feel scared and tense; I feel nervous all the time by other people and new situations. I want to cry sometimes but I can't; I can't even properly feel sorry for myself. Most of the time I feel nothing. there's this urge inside me to do something that will better my life--like get a job, or work harder at school, or even get a girlfriend--but there's a block in my way. fear stops me. i'm scared all the time because i don't want to be alone, or thought of as inferior to other people. this is irrational; i know that i'm not so different from other people, and I know in the end we've all got our problems. this isn't a problem that can be cured logically though. i can't think my way out of it, i don't believe. so how do I help myself? how do i solve, overcome, conquer, and put away my fear? or do i succeed and thrive in spite of it? it's so hard, and I feel very weak and helpless. i don't feel good enough. i just don't.
Wednesday, May 15, 2013
may 15 2013
I want to be in a refelctive mood right now. But I don't feel like it.
I had class today, but I didn't go. I had an essay due. I was supposed to go to two classes, and turn in one essay. I haven't been to school in a week and a half. I only go Mondays and Wednesdays, the same two classes each day--with the same professor, no less. I'm not kidding. I had four classes, but I dropped two. I was so behind I couldn't make it up. One of them was a once-a-week night class. I got sick about a month in and missed two class sessions. When I came back we had an in-class essay about two books I hadn't read; the reading schedule was literally a book a week. I even walked into class late, more late than I would have been because the class met in the computer lab, which I had a hard time finding. It was embarassing walking in, setting my things down in front of a computer, and walking to the front to pick up the hand-out. I started reading the handout and realized it was about those two books I mentioned earlier. I was like, shit. One was the play "A Raisin In The Sun;" I forget what the other one is--As I Lay Dying by Faulkner, probably. Anyway, I thought that if I had "Raisin In the Sun" with me I maybe--maybe--could have winged it by reading the entire thing. The class was three hours, minus twenty minutes because I walked in late. I thought that if I had it with me, I possibly could have read it and wrote an essay on it. It was a prompt for each book, one essay we had to write. I didn't have the book, unfortunately. I bought it two weeks before because I knew we were going to read it, I thought about reading it while I was sick but decided against it because I didn't know which week we'd be reading it, and I even thought about bringing it to class that night on the chance we would talk about it the week I returned. But everything collapsed at once when I came back and we had a fucking essay. So I dropped the class a week later. Yeah, that summarizes my work ethic as a student pretty well. I wish I cared about dropping that class.
What's it like to be drunk? Do you lose yourself, or are you more outgoing? I don't know because I've never been drunk. never even been buzzed. I probably will be once my friend from San Francisco comes back next month. We're having a welcome home party for him. I told my friends that I want to get pretty drunk. Usually I don't drink too much at get-togethers because I'm always driving home. I do not want to ever drive drunk. ever. i told everyone that i'm not going to be driving the night of the welcome home party; i'm probably going to be spending the night at my other friends house, or may even just get a ride home, although i'll be in no condition to wake up early the next morning. anyway. . . the reason this is floating around in my head is because i have this fantasy in my head of making-out with my other friends older sister at the welcome home party. we're both drunk, and flirty really hard with each other all night. one thing leads to another and then i'm in her room making-out with her. i don't really want to get into too much detail, but it's pretty simple male-fantasy type stuff. i guess. the thing is, is that she has shown zero signs of attraction to me, and to be honest, I'm not particularly attracted to her. it's lust that drives me and keeps these fantasies in my head. they're implanted there and keep growing. they bother me a lot, actually. they're always in the back of my mind, pushing expecations into my mind, and i get slightly disappointed when one of these expectations doesn't come true. i've said before that i think I'm too sex-crazed for my own good, and i think it's getting worse. the honest, open, and slightly disgusting truth (warning: gross): I just want to fuck. i want that contact and pleasure. it's about pleasure, really. i'm all about pleasure lately. i avoid working hard in school because i'd rather do something fun. i have no willpower to confront my fears. I seek pleasure and live inside my room where nothing hurts me.
i'd like a loving girlfriend. i'd like a girl whom i think is pretty. i'd like a fun girl to hang out with.
was this post reflective? i think so. nothing is solved though. that's the problem.
oh, i forgot about the worst part after i realized i was not able to write that essay in that once-a-week class. after i realized i couldn't possibly write an essay on two books i neither read nor had with me, i decided not to waste my time sitting in the classroom while everyone else typed away. so i gathered my things, gathered as much courage as i could, and walked up to the professor standing in front of the room. very quietly, i said, "sorry, but I haven't read the books"--holding out the handout to him. he took the paper and said, "that's going to make things difficult, isn't?" I kind of laughed, said yeah, and then added, "so, i'm just going to go," nodding towards the door and pointing my finger at it like a hitchhiker. he nodded understandably, his arms crossed, and said, "alright, see ya." then, before I left, I asked him for the handout back, which he gave back to me, and as quick as I could i left. normally i don't care what people say when i'm not around, but i'm sure the other students in the class said something about me after i left. i was literally in (late) and out of class in less than five minutes. the professor probably made a joke after i left as well. who knows if they did or not. one thing is certain though: if i were another student sitting and typing in that class, and I saw someone do what I did, I would think they were a huge dickhead.
I had class today, but I didn't go. I had an essay due. I was supposed to go to two classes, and turn in one essay. I haven't been to school in a week and a half. I only go Mondays and Wednesdays, the same two classes each day--with the same professor, no less. I'm not kidding. I had four classes, but I dropped two. I was so behind I couldn't make it up. One of them was a once-a-week night class. I got sick about a month in and missed two class sessions. When I came back we had an in-class essay about two books I hadn't read; the reading schedule was literally a book a week. I even walked into class late, more late than I would have been because the class met in the computer lab, which I had a hard time finding. It was embarassing walking in, setting my things down in front of a computer, and walking to the front to pick up the hand-out. I started reading the handout and realized it was about those two books I mentioned earlier. I was like, shit. One was the play "A Raisin In The Sun;" I forget what the other one is--As I Lay Dying by Faulkner, probably. Anyway, I thought that if I had "Raisin In the Sun" with me I maybe--maybe--could have winged it by reading the entire thing. The class was three hours, minus twenty minutes because I walked in late. I thought that if I had it with me, I possibly could have read it and wrote an essay on it. It was a prompt for each book, one essay we had to write. I didn't have the book, unfortunately. I bought it two weeks before because I knew we were going to read it, I thought about reading it while I was sick but decided against it because I didn't know which week we'd be reading it, and I even thought about bringing it to class that night on the chance we would talk about it the week I returned. But everything collapsed at once when I came back and we had a fucking essay. So I dropped the class a week later. Yeah, that summarizes my work ethic as a student pretty well. I wish I cared about dropping that class.
What's it like to be drunk? Do you lose yourself, or are you more outgoing? I don't know because I've never been drunk. never even been buzzed. I probably will be once my friend from San Francisco comes back next month. We're having a welcome home party for him. I told my friends that I want to get pretty drunk. Usually I don't drink too much at get-togethers because I'm always driving home. I do not want to ever drive drunk. ever. i told everyone that i'm not going to be driving the night of the welcome home party; i'm probably going to be spending the night at my other friends house, or may even just get a ride home, although i'll be in no condition to wake up early the next morning. anyway. . . the reason this is floating around in my head is because i have this fantasy in my head of making-out with my other friends older sister at the welcome home party. we're both drunk, and flirty really hard with each other all night. one thing leads to another and then i'm in her room making-out with her. i don't really want to get into too much detail, but it's pretty simple male-fantasy type stuff. i guess. the thing is, is that she has shown zero signs of attraction to me, and to be honest, I'm not particularly attracted to her. it's lust that drives me and keeps these fantasies in my head. they're implanted there and keep growing. they bother me a lot, actually. they're always in the back of my mind, pushing expecations into my mind, and i get slightly disappointed when one of these expectations doesn't come true. i've said before that i think I'm too sex-crazed for my own good, and i think it's getting worse. the honest, open, and slightly disgusting truth (warning: gross): I just want to fuck. i want that contact and pleasure. it's about pleasure, really. i'm all about pleasure lately. i avoid working hard in school because i'd rather do something fun. i have no willpower to confront my fears. I seek pleasure and live inside my room where nothing hurts me.
i'd like a loving girlfriend. i'd like a girl whom i think is pretty. i'd like a fun girl to hang out with.
was this post reflective? i think so. nothing is solved though. that's the problem.
oh, i forgot about the worst part after i realized i was not able to write that essay in that once-a-week class. after i realized i couldn't possibly write an essay on two books i neither read nor had with me, i decided not to waste my time sitting in the classroom while everyone else typed away. so i gathered my things, gathered as much courage as i could, and walked up to the professor standing in front of the room. very quietly, i said, "sorry, but I haven't read the books"--holding out the handout to him. he took the paper and said, "that's going to make things difficult, isn't?" I kind of laughed, said yeah, and then added, "so, i'm just going to go," nodding towards the door and pointing my finger at it like a hitchhiker. he nodded understandably, his arms crossed, and said, "alright, see ya." then, before I left, I asked him for the handout back, which he gave back to me, and as quick as I could i left. normally i don't care what people say when i'm not around, but i'm sure the other students in the class said something about me after i left. i was literally in (late) and out of class in less than five minutes. the professor probably made a joke after i left as well. who knows if they did or not. one thing is certain though: if i were another student sitting and typing in that class, and I saw someone do what I did, I would think they were a huge dickhead.
Tuesday, May 14, 2013
Thursday, May 9, 2013
May 9 2013
I don't like it when people call me "boss." "Hey, boss, what do you need?" "Hey, boss, what can I do for you?" It always feels condescending.
My friend moved to San Francisco two years ago. Now he's coming back. He was a really close friend of mine. But while he was up there, I hardly ever spoke to him. A few texts every now and then, and maybe two phone calls that I can remember.
No one is really close to me. I mean that I don't put myself out there too much. I play everything close to the chest. I'm not a very good friend. I'm trying to change, but something inside me resists the idea. I've always thought the one person I'd be closest to would be my wife, and even though I still want that to be true, I'm starting to realize that my friendships suffer because of this view. No person is an island unto themselves, said someone famous once. (I forgot who; I won't bother to look it up.) I've always felt like I'm waiting for something good to happen. I'm waiting for my 'real' life to happen, know what I mean? I'm waiting for my adult life; I'm waiting for my happier life. For example, during high school I would always think about college. i would say, yeah, my life sucks right now, but when I get to college everything's going to be better and I'll be happier. And now that I'm college, I'm always thinking, yeah, when i graduate and get a real job I'll have all this money and a place to myself and I'll start to live the life I want to live; that's when i'll be happy. Right now, I'm waiting for my real friends, my real problems, and my real future. But that's kind of wrong, isn't it? It's kind of stupid. The life I live now is my real life. The friends I have now are my real friends. And if I don't nurture my relationships, they're going to tear away from me. But I still want to be closest to my wife--if I ever even get a date.
I don't smoke weed. But i've been thinking about it a lot. I've always seen it as something bad, something wrong. But why is that? Because my parents told me it was wrong. But they tell me things are wrong all the time that I don't agree are wrong. Like gay marriage. My dad doesn't agree with it; I do. (That's a really simplified version of what my dad believes, to be fair. I think he doesn't mind gay people, but in his traditional mind, he believes the term marriage should only mean between a man and a woman. In a way I agree, insofar that the term marriage be used by churches however the fuck they want to use it, but that the state and federal government have an obligation to offer the same rights and status to a same-sex couple that they offer to a heterosexual couple. The churches can decide not to marry people because it's their belief system, and you have a choice to opt-in or opt-out. But the government should not discriminate between same-sex or different-sex or even (somehow) no-sex unions. Rant over.) So it's not really because of my parents. Maybe because it's against the law. But now some states, like Colorado, and to a small extent Washington, have made it legal, i.e., something you won't get arrested for doing. And I think if I ever did go to Colorado (I'm not actually planning on going), I wouldn't mind trying it. Know what I mean? It seems pretty harmless, and even fun. At the same time, however, it feels really personal. It feels like an intimate decision. That's why if I ever do it, I want to do it with my girlfriend/wife--even though she probably won't want to do it. Haha.
I'm so fucking thoughtless sometimes. I'm just a regular person trying to get by. I'm not good or bad. I'm just me. Not very many people are good or bad people. Most of us are kind of good, kind of bad, and everyday we teeter between one or the other. But we keep trying to do good, don't we? And that's what makes it all right. That's what keeps us from killing one another. Most of the time.
P.S. I want to change the name of my blog, but to what? Suggestions are welcome and appreciated. Please apply to your right.
(just kidding.)
My friend moved to San Francisco two years ago. Now he's coming back. He was a really close friend of mine. But while he was up there, I hardly ever spoke to him. A few texts every now and then, and maybe two phone calls that I can remember.
No one is really close to me. I mean that I don't put myself out there too much. I play everything close to the chest. I'm not a very good friend. I'm trying to change, but something inside me resists the idea. I've always thought the one person I'd be closest to would be my wife, and even though I still want that to be true, I'm starting to realize that my friendships suffer because of this view. No person is an island unto themselves, said someone famous once. (I forgot who; I won't bother to look it up.) I've always felt like I'm waiting for something good to happen. I'm waiting for my 'real' life to happen, know what I mean? I'm waiting for my adult life; I'm waiting for my happier life. For example, during high school I would always think about college. i would say, yeah, my life sucks right now, but when I get to college everything's going to be better and I'll be happier. And now that I'm college, I'm always thinking, yeah, when i graduate and get a real job I'll have all this money and a place to myself and I'll start to live the life I want to live; that's when i'll be happy. Right now, I'm waiting for my real friends, my real problems, and my real future. But that's kind of wrong, isn't it? It's kind of stupid. The life I live now is my real life. The friends I have now are my real friends. And if I don't nurture my relationships, they're going to tear away from me. But I still want to be closest to my wife--if I ever even get a date.
I don't smoke weed. But i've been thinking about it a lot. I've always seen it as something bad, something wrong. But why is that? Because my parents told me it was wrong. But they tell me things are wrong all the time that I don't agree are wrong. Like gay marriage. My dad doesn't agree with it; I do. (That's a really simplified version of what my dad believes, to be fair. I think he doesn't mind gay people, but in his traditional mind, he believes the term marriage should only mean between a man and a woman. In a way I agree, insofar that the term marriage be used by churches however the fuck they want to use it, but that the state and federal government have an obligation to offer the same rights and status to a same-sex couple that they offer to a heterosexual couple. The churches can decide not to marry people because it's their belief system, and you have a choice to opt-in or opt-out. But the government should not discriminate between same-sex or different-sex or even (somehow) no-sex unions. Rant over.) So it's not really because of my parents. Maybe because it's against the law. But now some states, like Colorado, and to a small extent Washington, have made it legal, i.e., something you won't get arrested for doing. And I think if I ever did go to Colorado (I'm not actually planning on going), I wouldn't mind trying it. Know what I mean? It seems pretty harmless, and even fun. At the same time, however, it feels really personal. It feels like an intimate decision. That's why if I ever do it, I want to do it with my girlfriend/wife--even though she probably won't want to do it. Haha.
I'm so fucking thoughtless sometimes. I'm just a regular person trying to get by. I'm not good or bad. I'm just me. Not very many people are good or bad people. Most of us are kind of good, kind of bad, and everyday we teeter between one or the other. But we keep trying to do good, don't we? And that's what makes it all right. That's what keeps us from killing one another. Most of the time.
P.S. I want to change the name of my blog, but to what? Suggestions are welcome and appreciated. Please apply to your right.
(just kidding.)
Sunday, May 5, 2013
may 5 2013
i am guileless. today i went to Pep boys to deposit used motor oil from my car. i walk inside holding a plastic bottle and a plastic bag full of quarts of used oil. i go up to this guy working there wearing a bright, spotless white shirt and slacks, and say, "hi. i have some used motor oil i want to deposit." he says, "just go around to the side of the building"--where the garage is--"and empty it there." i say okay, and thank him and go back outside and around the building. i walk up to the open garage and spot a mechanic guy. i say, "excuse me." he turns around and i say, "yeah, i have some used motor oil." he says, "did you sign up inside?" I go, "oh, do i have to sign something inside?" actually, before i left my house my dad did tell me there was like a sign-in sheet inside, and i actually did see it, but since i asked the guy first and he told me to go ahead, i didn't bother. the mechanic guy then says, "yeah, there's a sheet on a clipboard you have to sign first." i was thinking okay, fine, whatever. so i thank him and then walk back around and go inside again. i go up to the same white shirt guy as before. "is there something i have to sign?" i ask him. he looks at me and goes, "nah, it's fine. just go." then he says after a few moments, "why, did they ask you?" i say yeah. and then he goes, smiling, "yeah, you should have just told them you signed-in already." and i thought, oh yeah, why didn't i think of that? then he leads me through a connecting door back to the garage, and i dump the oil and leave.
Wednesday, May 1, 2013
may 1 2013
i'm working on a poem at the moment. i think it's pretty good. i hope it'll win me some unknown prize or something, but that's unlikely. really unlikely, i guess.
i've been reading some poetry lately. i've read "mending wall," "the oven bird," "the gift outright," "nothing gold can stay," etc, etc. by robert frost. i have a book of his most well-known poetry. a few years ago i hated his poems. now i like them. maybe it was the way i read them.
i eat a lot. i have to eat at least every three hours or i get light-headed. i eat a lot of bananas and apples. why do you care? i don't know. . .
today is the birthday of the girl i thought i loved in high school. i haven't seen or spoken to her in about four years. don't know why, but i still remember her birthday. i wonder if she would remember me. . . ? if i ever see her again, i must apologize for the shitty things i did to her--like ignore her, pretend to be angry at her, blame her for my misery. oh yeah, she was a quasi-friend, mostly acquaintance of mine. that's how she was aware of the things i did.
i used to be a really shitty person. now i'm just a shit person. i'm trying hard to stop being so shitty.
shitty: the word of the day. noun--excrement. see: poo, feces, fecal matter, myself.
i think it would be fun to drunkenly make-out with my friends older sister for a night. it's not going to happen though. probably not. can't rule anything out, you know what i mean?
i'm too sex-crazed for my own good.
god, i'd make a shitty boyfriend.
i've been reading some poetry lately. i've read "mending wall," "the oven bird," "the gift outright," "nothing gold can stay," etc, etc. by robert frost. i have a book of his most well-known poetry. a few years ago i hated his poems. now i like them. maybe it was the way i read them.
i eat a lot. i have to eat at least every three hours or i get light-headed. i eat a lot of bananas and apples. why do you care? i don't know. . .
today is the birthday of the girl i thought i loved in high school. i haven't seen or spoken to her in about four years. don't know why, but i still remember her birthday. i wonder if she would remember me. . . ? if i ever see her again, i must apologize for the shitty things i did to her--like ignore her, pretend to be angry at her, blame her for my misery. oh yeah, she was a quasi-friend, mostly acquaintance of mine. that's how she was aware of the things i did.
i used to be a really shitty person. now i'm just a shit person. i'm trying hard to stop being so shitty.
shitty: the word of the day. noun--excrement. see: poo, feces, fecal matter, myself.
i think it would be fun to drunkenly make-out with my friends older sister for a night. it's not going to happen though. probably not. can't rule anything out, you know what i mean?
i'm too sex-crazed for my own good.
god, i'd make a shitty boyfriend.
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