I can feel the world closing in. The pressure mounting and building. The world wants in.
I want out.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Friday, February 27, 2009
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Idiocy
I hit a dog on the way to work. I don't know if it's alive or dead. It limped off afterwards. My car's a little bit messed up. Front bumper's a little loose, udercover is broken, my left fog light is bent out of shape and my rear bumper is a little loose on the left side. Oh, and my tires are much balder now.
Could've been worse, though.
Also, I find it hilarious that the only singer who I can accurately mimic is Jimmy Urine. WTF?
I also do a halfway decent Die from D.E.G. How come the two hardest singers to emulate are the ones I can come really close to, but I can't sing Three Day's Grace on-pitch?
Though I sound damned good doing some Three Doors Down...just much heavier. .>>
Could've been worse, though.
Also, I find it hilarious that the only singer who I can accurately mimic is Jimmy Urine. WTF?
I also do a halfway decent Die from D.E.G. How come the two hardest singers to emulate are the ones I can come really close to, but I can't sing Three Day's Grace on-pitch?
Though I sound damned good doing some Three Doors Down...just much heavier. .>>
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Seasonal Affective Bi-Polar Disorder
Yeah, this part of the year sucks for me. I'm sorry if I worried anybody with that last post. I'm better now.
Amazing what difference 5 hours of sleep can make. I have no idea how I'll be feeling in about 20 minutes. My moods catch me as off guard as they catch you.
Amazing what difference 5 hours of sleep can make. I have no idea how I'll be feeling in about 20 minutes. My moods catch me as off guard as they catch you.
Isn't the sky so big?
Work went by quickly enough. They had me sweating in the back, cleaning out from behind the storage racks in Grocery Receiving. It was hard work, but in being so it made the hours go by quicker, as opposed to droning on as they usually do. However, there was still enough drag in time to give me lots of time to think. I was alone time, with only my thoughts and my cleaning supplies as company. I began to ponder about my managers. If I left right now and just walked out of the store...how long before anyone would notice?
Would they care? Would anyone there?
Then comes stage two of the same question: if I were gone tomorrow...who would notice or care? Aside from my father, just who, if anybody, would be touched by my death? Just how insignificant am I? I feel like I just blend in and while that's usually exactly what I want, sometimes there are situations where I would like to be noticed in a positive way; my existence noted and appreciated.
I generally hate people. I loathe them. I look at the massive majority of the social dregs that trundle into the store during the night and I usually feel either disgust or pity. But sometimes I envy them. They have friends. They have lovers. They have lives that encompass more than just their solitary existence. Mine? How far spread is my circle of influence? Is there any influence at all? Or am I just a whisper in a wind and when I'm gone will I only be 'that boy'? Even then, how long will that memory last? A decade? Half a decade? A year? A week?
Would there even be a funeral?
I've had these thoughts before, of course. Who hasn't at some point during their years of teenage pretension? But as opposed to being fueled by angst and depression, this time my questions are fueled by pure curiosity.
What impact has my life had on the world? What impact will my death have?
I guess I'm really questioning the futility of living in this modern age. Now, I understand that life in this age is more convenient than any other time before us, thansk to technology. But is it really worthwhile? Why in the world should I be excited to go to work in some homogenous office at some monotonous job for 9 hours a day, spend an hour commuting to and from home only to have 4 or 5 hours to myself, if I'm lucky, before I have to wake up and do it all over again? Oh, but the weekends are all mine, aye? So out of a 168-hour week I'm supposed to hate life for 63 of those ours stuck in a box, spend 7-10 hours stuck in a car, spend another 60 hours unconconscious and enjoy the remaining couple of dozen hours living in such a way to justify the abolute misery of the rest of the week? I'm going to spend 30% of my life asleep and 75% of my life working or driving to work and this is supposed to make me happy and excited?
What's the point? 'Oh, well, it's for your kids.' Right. So they can go through it too? And their kids? And their kids? And their tentacled, one-eyed flying-saucer-racing kids? I'm sorry, but I don't really see the payoff. 80% of life spent half-dead and half-awake? That's not fucking fair. Nor is it worth it. And as for family...yah, I need not apply. I hold no more hope of ever having a family. These past 5 years have made it plainly obvious that I am not one to be loved unconditionally. It's to difficult to love me. I'm too broken and convoluted. I respect those who've tried, but I also feel sorry for the effort they put into something that is ultimately futile. I will live the rest of my life companionless and alone. I will die a bachelor with no progeny and no love.
Oh, and don't forget: I'm probably die wearing a leas-I mean necktie. Boss (Douche-smoothy puppy-fucker).
I really don't mind being alone. Being an only child and growing up in the middle of nowhere, I'm use to isolation, both physical and social. I'm even adapting well to being single after 5 years of jumping form one relationship to the other. I'm tired of love. I'm tired of walking that fine line between love and a waste of my time. Every time I think love might be possible between myself and this her or that her, something about my essential self interrupts the possibility. My existence is counter-intuitive to love.
So fuck it. What ever made me think I should be anything but alone? What makes any of us yearn for another wreck alongside our own? I know that I'll just confuse and hurt anybody who tries to invest themselves in me so it's more of a public service than a tragedy that I remain alone and insignificant. Because that's exactly what I am. Alone and insignificant. I am another ant in a field full of anthills. When I am gone, there will be a note in the newspaper obituary and another lump of dirt in another overstuffed graveyard. My only hope is that my father isn't around to see the absolute lack of ripples my eventual death will bring.
It's not so bad, I guess, being alone and insignificant. I can see the stars. But they can't see me.
Would they care? Would anyone there?
Then comes stage two of the same question: if I were gone tomorrow...who would notice or care? Aside from my father, just who, if anybody, would be touched by my death? Just how insignificant am I? I feel like I just blend in and while that's usually exactly what I want, sometimes there are situations where I would like to be noticed in a positive way; my existence noted and appreciated.
I generally hate people. I loathe them. I look at the massive majority of the social dregs that trundle into the store during the night and I usually feel either disgust or pity. But sometimes I envy them. They have friends. They have lovers. They have lives that encompass more than just their solitary existence. Mine? How far spread is my circle of influence? Is there any influence at all? Or am I just a whisper in a wind and when I'm gone will I only be 'that boy'? Even then, how long will that memory last? A decade? Half a decade? A year? A week?
Would there even be a funeral?
I've had these thoughts before, of course. Who hasn't at some point during their years of teenage pretension? But as opposed to being fueled by angst and depression, this time my questions are fueled by pure curiosity.
What impact has my life had on the world? What impact will my death have?
I guess I'm really questioning the futility of living in this modern age. Now, I understand that life in this age is more convenient than any other time before us, thansk to technology. But is it really worthwhile? Why in the world should I be excited to go to work in some homogenous office at some monotonous job for 9 hours a day, spend an hour commuting to and from home only to have 4 or 5 hours to myself, if I'm lucky, before I have to wake up and do it all over again? Oh, but the weekends are all mine, aye? So out of a 168-hour week I'm supposed to hate life for 63 of those ours stuck in a box, spend 7-10 hours stuck in a car, spend another 60 hours unconconscious and enjoy the remaining couple of dozen hours living in such a way to justify the abolute misery of the rest of the week? I'm going to spend 30% of my life asleep and 75% of my life working or driving to work and this is supposed to make me happy and excited?
What's the point? 'Oh, well, it's for your kids.' Right. So they can go through it too? And their kids? And their kids? And their tentacled, one-eyed flying-saucer-racing kids? I'm sorry, but I don't really see the payoff. 80% of life spent half-dead and half-awake? That's not fucking fair. Nor is it worth it. And as for family...yah, I need not apply. I hold no more hope of ever having a family. These past 5 years have made it plainly obvious that I am not one to be loved unconditionally. It's to difficult to love me. I'm too broken and convoluted. I respect those who've tried, but I also feel sorry for the effort they put into something that is ultimately futile. I will live the rest of my life companionless and alone. I will die a bachelor with no progeny and no love.
Oh, and don't forget: I'm probably die wearing a leas-I mean necktie. Boss (Douche-smoothy puppy-fucker).
I really don't mind being alone. Being an only child and growing up in the middle of nowhere, I'm use to isolation, both physical and social. I'm even adapting well to being single after 5 years of jumping form one relationship to the other. I'm tired of love. I'm tired of walking that fine line between love and a waste of my time. Every time I think love might be possible between myself and this her or that her, something about my essential self interrupts the possibility. My existence is counter-intuitive to love.
So fuck it. What ever made me think I should be anything but alone? What makes any of us yearn for another wreck alongside our own? I know that I'll just confuse and hurt anybody who tries to invest themselves in me so it's more of a public service than a tragedy that I remain alone and insignificant. Because that's exactly what I am. Alone and insignificant. I am another ant in a field full of anthills. When I am gone, there will be a note in the newspaper obituary and another lump of dirt in another overstuffed graveyard. My only hope is that my father isn't around to see the absolute lack of ripples my eventual death will bring.
It's not so bad, I guess, being alone and insignificant. I can see the stars. But they can't see me.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
To sleep or to be somewhat happy?
I think these Unisom sleeping pills have been making me moody and depressed. I guess my choice is to either take hours to fall asleep or to be in a crappy mood all the time.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Old habits die hard
Something about late winter/early spring really brings out the masochist in me. Maybe this year I can stay out of the hospital.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
My wallet has the Olsen Twins beat
So I'm already too broke to afford groceries (my fridge is already empty, too) and I'll barely be able to have enough gas to get to work between now and payday. This is the 2nd month in a row funds have been this tight and I've still got car insurance and car repairs coming up.
Plus I'm in danger of getting laid off. I've got a meeting tomorrow night to determine if they're going to let me go or not. So yeah, Wal-Mart can suck my Grade-A Oregon Redwood and so can the economy in general.
You know what really sucks?
The yuppies across the street just bought a $5,000 television and paid for it in cash. Half that amount of money could end all of our financial issues at my house. So they can suck it too.
I hate money. Maybe it's because I so rarely have any or maybe it's because no matter how much I do have, it's never quite enough to make life easier. Money just gets me by and money keeps me drawing shorter and shorter breaths. I'm tired of it. I wish we'd just go to the barter system and let the economy finish dying. I have skills and trade knowledge that could make me a wealthy man in the barter system, but nope. In America you have to have this piece of paper and that piece of plastic and this many dozens of signatures all over the place and this company's logo branded into your left ass cheek in order to get a motherfucking sandwich.
I know the world economy as a whole sucks, but it just seems like America is too stubborn to try an alternative. We're ruled by the banks to the point where they over-power our goddamn congress. So what the hell is congress there for? Why not just have the Wachovia Triumvirate and change the nation's name to 'The Dependent Holdings of the Bank of American Tyranny'?
I'll probably get arrested once they track the IP address on this post. Our Goverment isn't a big fan of criticism....or truth. I wonder if Guantanamo Bay has XBox Live?
Plus I'm in danger of getting laid off. I've got a meeting tomorrow night to determine if they're going to let me go or not. So yeah, Wal-Mart can suck my Grade-A Oregon Redwood and so can the economy in general.
You know what really sucks?
The yuppies across the street just bought a $5,000 television and paid for it in cash. Half that amount of money could end all of our financial issues at my house. So they can suck it too.
I hate money. Maybe it's because I so rarely have any or maybe it's because no matter how much I do have, it's never quite enough to make life easier. Money just gets me by and money keeps me drawing shorter and shorter breaths. I'm tired of it. I wish we'd just go to the barter system and let the economy finish dying. I have skills and trade knowledge that could make me a wealthy man in the barter system, but nope. In America you have to have this piece of paper and that piece of plastic and this many dozens of signatures all over the place and this company's logo branded into your left ass cheek in order to get a motherfucking sandwich.
I know the world economy as a whole sucks, but it just seems like America is too stubborn to try an alternative. We're ruled by the banks to the point where they over-power our goddamn congress. So what the hell is congress there for? Why not just have the Wachovia Triumvirate and change the nation's name to 'The Dependent Holdings of the Bank of American Tyranny'?
I'll probably get arrested once they track the IP address on this post. Our Goverment isn't a big fan of criticism....or truth. I wonder if Guantanamo Bay has XBox Live?
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Because bloodletting can get you fired...
I’d almost forgotten how quickly my mood can plummet. Pitfalls of being bi-polar, I suppose. Two days ago I was hyper and happy and overall very pleasant. And today…
It’s almost been an entire year since I last cut, but I can feel the urge creeping towards me like an oil spill; at my toes, sliding up my leg and rustling my clothes, until I taste the metallic tint staining its fingers as it slides into my mouth. It reached down my throat, choking me and coercing tears out through an emotional gag reflex. It’s so similar to the reverse action of bleeding through dozens of criss-crossing slivers dancing across my skin, welling up and painting the snow with red.
Whenever I used to cut…it allowed me to focus. I was able to focus on that exact moment, on that specific action and I was able to finally slow my thoughts down enough to where I could rebuild whatever walls had been torn down. It was never about the pain. It was about the moment: the moment hanging slow and weightless as I drew the edge down my arm and felt the slight sting of separation. I’m a slow bleeder and I think I began cutting initially due to my fascination with the delay between severing skin and the first red line to greet open air. 5-8 seconds, usually. Just watching something that was inside of my slowly creep out of my body, into the world was enough to make the rest of the world stand still. Every time I drew the razor blade across my skin, I was giving birth to another frozen moment in time. Another wall. Another degree of separation between myself and the thoughts that bombard me at Mach Infinity.
I haven’t cut in 11 months and 22 days. But right now…I’m struggling. There’s just so many thoughts and they’re going so fast. Instead of walking to my dresser where I keep my art supplies and ripping open a pack of X-acto blades, instead I opened up a new Word document and started typing. It’s not nearly as effective, but it’s probably a million times healthier. Writing is one of my only remaining methods of focusing my thoughts down to a single path.
Like herding worker bees down a drinking straw.
My mind is a hive and every bee is a thought. And right now, a group of kids is beating the hive with some very large, very significant sticks. Each stick is labeled.
Missouri.
Job.
Money.
College.
Friends.
Loneliness.
Restlessness.
Prospects of a way out...bashing my skull in. I promised her I wouldn’t cut. The bitch. I promised so many of my Winthrop friends that I’d no longer cut, but it’s her to whom I actually swore to. And now? She won’t even talk to me. Apparently I’ve got too many issues and too many problems and my very existence is too stressful for her. Stressful!? For her!? Honestly!? I wonder how long she’d last AS me.
The day I realized that not only did I no longer love her but WHY I no longer loved her, I felt the most immense surge of freedom I’d ever known. But there’s still one chain, one string, one goddamn shackle.
My promise.
I don’t break my promises. But for fuck’s sake, right now I wish I did.
On the other hand…this is temporary. I am bi-polar after all. Some time tonight or tomorrow or so, something, some random, unrelated thing will trigger a shift and I’ll be back to myself. But as always, smack dab in the middle of the months, I go through one of these 2 or 3 day spells of morose depression. This actually started yesterday…but somehow I was able to hold it at bay until about 30 minutes ago when I suddenly realized I don’t have a shoulder to lean on or an embrace to cry into.
Where have all the shoulders gone? I’m not talking that metaphorical bullshit that people refer to when they’re really only talking on the phone. I mean a real physical shoulder to lean on. I’m a very physically intimate, emotive person. I want somebody to hug me, to hold me. I want someone to not say single word but instead just lay with me and put their arms around me and just let the quiet embrace heal what a thousand razor blade designs can’t. A razor blade cannot cure the lonely. And right now, neither can I.
I won’t cut. I’ll keep my promise. But right now, I really wish I could. Maybe my loneliness will go away when I move to Missouri, but something tells me I need to go farther north. I have no idea where, but it’s snowing in my dreams and there are mountains. That leaves plenty of choices: all of Canada and a good third of America. I’m not bullshitting myself; I know that Missouri is just a waypoint, a place to stay for a few years to finish college before I finally go Home. HOME. Where the fuck I BELONG. Wherever the hell that is. I know it’s not here and I know it’s not Missouri. But at least in Missouri I have a least one real friend and a method of finishing school. Beth also knows people who know people and she can’t let me meet those people and maybe make a new set of friends. As much as I love and adore and cherish my online friends…right now, it’s just not enough. I’m lonely. Lonelier than I remember being in nearly a decade.
Right now, someone holding my hand would probably be enough.
Why the fuck am I such a girl? For all my physical strength and masculine skills and hobbies, I can’t relate to guys. I can’t think like them. I don’t even view sex like a guy. Apparently I think like a woman. I can understand women; they make sense to me. Maybe it’d be simpler if I were gay. But I’m not. I don’t think I’m allowed that kind of simplicity. I was born as a living, breathing testament to the universal Catch-22. I am the 22 year old Catch-22. Here’s a fucking autograph.
It all comes back to the fact that I want a hug. And I don’t know a single person within 50 miles who I feel comfortable hugging anymore. Maybe I’m being picky, but I can’t just let anybody across this drawbridge. And what kind of cosmic joke would it be if when I get to Missouri, I don’t feel comfortable hugging Beth? Then it’s 1,100 miles instead of 50. But I have to take that risk. I can’t live in the Deep South much longer. I’m stagnating here and I’m deathly afraid of it. Anywhere but here, yeah?
Fuck. I hate promises.
It’s almost been an entire year since I last cut, but I can feel the urge creeping towards me like an oil spill; at my toes, sliding up my leg and rustling my clothes, until I taste the metallic tint staining its fingers as it slides into my mouth. It reached down my throat, choking me and coercing tears out through an emotional gag reflex. It’s so similar to the reverse action of bleeding through dozens of criss-crossing slivers dancing across my skin, welling up and painting the snow with red.
Whenever I used to cut…it allowed me to focus. I was able to focus on that exact moment, on that specific action and I was able to finally slow my thoughts down enough to where I could rebuild whatever walls had been torn down. It was never about the pain. It was about the moment: the moment hanging slow and weightless as I drew the edge down my arm and felt the slight sting of separation. I’m a slow bleeder and I think I began cutting initially due to my fascination with the delay between severing skin and the first red line to greet open air. 5-8 seconds, usually. Just watching something that was inside of my slowly creep out of my body, into the world was enough to make the rest of the world stand still. Every time I drew the razor blade across my skin, I was giving birth to another frozen moment in time. Another wall. Another degree of separation between myself and the thoughts that bombard me at Mach Infinity.
I haven’t cut in 11 months and 22 days. But right now…I’m struggling. There’s just so many thoughts and they’re going so fast. Instead of walking to my dresser where I keep my art supplies and ripping open a pack of X-acto blades, instead I opened up a new Word document and started typing. It’s not nearly as effective, but it’s probably a million times healthier. Writing is one of my only remaining methods of focusing my thoughts down to a single path.
Like herding worker bees down a drinking straw.
My mind is a hive and every bee is a thought. And right now, a group of kids is beating the hive with some very large, very significant sticks. Each stick is labeled.
Missouri.
Job.
Money.
College.
Friends.
Loneliness.
Restlessness.
Prospects of a way out...bashing my skull in. I promised her I wouldn’t cut. The bitch. I promised so many of my Winthrop friends that I’d no longer cut, but it’s her to whom I actually swore to. And now? She won’t even talk to me. Apparently I’ve got too many issues and too many problems and my very existence is too stressful for her. Stressful!? For her!? Honestly!? I wonder how long she’d last AS me.
The day I realized that not only did I no longer love her but WHY I no longer loved her, I felt the most immense surge of freedom I’d ever known. But there’s still one chain, one string, one goddamn shackle.
My promise.
I don’t break my promises. But for fuck’s sake, right now I wish I did.
On the other hand…this is temporary. I am bi-polar after all. Some time tonight or tomorrow or so, something, some random, unrelated thing will trigger a shift and I’ll be back to myself. But as always, smack dab in the middle of the months, I go through one of these 2 or 3 day spells of morose depression. This actually started yesterday…but somehow I was able to hold it at bay until about 30 minutes ago when I suddenly realized I don’t have a shoulder to lean on or an embrace to cry into.
Where have all the shoulders gone? I’m not talking that metaphorical bullshit that people refer to when they’re really only talking on the phone. I mean a real physical shoulder to lean on. I’m a very physically intimate, emotive person. I want somebody to hug me, to hold me. I want someone to not say single word but instead just lay with me and put their arms around me and just let the quiet embrace heal what a thousand razor blade designs can’t. A razor blade cannot cure the lonely. And right now, neither can I.
I won’t cut. I’ll keep my promise. But right now, I really wish I could. Maybe my loneliness will go away when I move to Missouri, but something tells me I need to go farther north. I have no idea where, but it’s snowing in my dreams and there are mountains. That leaves plenty of choices: all of Canada and a good third of America. I’m not bullshitting myself; I know that Missouri is just a waypoint, a place to stay for a few years to finish college before I finally go Home. HOME. Where the fuck I BELONG. Wherever the hell that is. I know it’s not here and I know it’s not Missouri. But at least in Missouri I have a least one real friend and a method of finishing school. Beth also knows people who know people and she can’t let me meet those people and maybe make a new set of friends. As much as I love and adore and cherish my online friends…right now, it’s just not enough. I’m lonely. Lonelier than I remember being in nearly a decade.
Right now, someone holding my hand would probably be enough.
Why the fuck am I such a girl? For all my physical strength and masculine skills and hobbies, I can’t relate to guys. I can’t think like them. I don’t even view sex like a guy. Apparently I think like a woman. I can understand women; they make sense to me. Maybe it’d be simpler if I were gay. But I’m not. I don’t think I’m allowed that kind of simplicity. I was born as a living, breathing testament to the universal Catch-22. I am the 22 year old Catch-22. Here’s a fucking autograph.
It all comes back to the fact that I want a hug. And I don’t know a single person within 50 miles who I feel comfortable hugging anymore. Maybe I’m being picky, but I can’t just let anybody across this drawbridge. And what kind of cosmic joke would it be if when I get to Missouri, I don’t feel comfortable hugging Beth? Then it’s 1,100 miles instead of 50. But I have to take that risk. I can’t live in the Deep South much longer. I’m stagnating here and I’m deathly afraid of it. Anywhere but here, yeah?
Fuck. I hate promises.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Because, chances are, I'll never actually meet her...
I like girls who are clumsy but can laugh it off. I like girls with unusual names. I like a girl who is free spirited and impulsive, sometimes to a fault. I like a girl who is faithful, but is just as afraid of commitment as I am. She likes bright color combinations, but doesn't like to wear them. A crooked, shy smile is beautiful. Does she wear funny socks? I hope so; I love them. Maybe those striped toe socks, with one of the toes missing. Maybe the pinky? That'd be really cute. She changes her hair way more often than normal. She's anything but normal. She laughs with her hands. When she smiles, her eyes get really squinty. She has beautiful eyes. When she cries, she reaches for me instead of turning away. When I cry, she feels awkward and calls me names because she doesn't know what else to say. She talks. A lot. So I don't always feel like I have to. But she knows when not to talk. Silence makes me nervous, but sometimes it's...slow...and soft. Just right. Like cocoa. With those tiny little marshmallows. Those are the little pecks on our cheeks to stir the silence. She can't ever decide between gloves and mittens. She lectures me about always cutting my clothes up, but she also finds it sexy. She plays videogames, but we have different tastes. She can hold her own in Halo, though I can't beat her at her games. I like girls who don't wear much makeup, but when they do, it's not to hide. I like girls who are celebrations of creativity and the unpredictable possibly of no guaranteed tomorrows. I like girls who cite random quotes from famous people. I can never remember quotes. Not even my own.
I have strange taste in movies. Hers is even stranger. Eclectic bonding at work. Paired eccentrics. I can't understand why she out-wrestles me, even when I try to win. I'm so much bigger, but somehow she's stronger when she's laughing. Sometimes on very, very rare occasions...she snorts when she laughs. She'll blush and cover her face and someone passing by might think she's crying. She's beautiful how awkward she is. She makes me feel capable. I'm not as embarrassed to be embarrassed around her. She speeds. She can drive a stick shift. She loves her music loud. Her driving scares me. Whenever I do ride with her, I want to kiss her at the stop light. Seeing her shift gears is so attractive to me. She can't mess with the radio and drive at the same time, but she tries anyway. Maybe this will be our last stoplight. Maybe that's why I keep kissing her.
She's not imaginary. She's out there. Somewhere. It's cold where she is. She loves snow. I hate it when my toes are cold. Her toes get cold too, but she wears toe socks, so it's ok. It gives her a reason, even though she doesn't need one. She hates Croc sandals as much as I do. We take turns making fun of people who wear them. Her fingernails aren't painted. Sometimes they are, but the paint never stays long. You can't cover her up. I can blend in with a crowd, unless she's there. She's her own crowd, but she only likes small groups. Sex with her is quiet and sweet and creative. She can't stop decorating her lamps and lampshades. She wears really long knit scarves. Most of the time, kissing her is a little awkward and quick, because she always smiles a little bit when we kiss. But when she doesn't, it's always long and slow and very engulfed in its own moment. She calls me on my shit, but she never makes me feel bad about it. She knows more about classic rock than I do, but she doesn't doubt my love for it. Her snow men and snow angels always wind up being obscene and vulgar. Don't trust her with pointy things. She'll poke you. Seriously; tell her to put the carrot down. You don't want to wind up like that snowman, do you?
She inspires me to keep a journal, even if only to write about her. But I don't. She somehow enables me to write about all the things I can never seem to get out of my head. Even the thought of her, the potential of her, allows me to express. Just like now. Her name is so different, but it suits her. But it's a real name. It's not an adjective or some nature-related noun or cosmic ideal like Faith or Serenity. Hers is a real name; it just isn't one you hear on girls very often. She's not found very often. She doesn't need to be. God created two universes; terra firma duality: hers and the rest of us. When I'm around her, hers is a universe of two. She draws me in. I'm wearing leather gloves. She's got one mitten, blue and pink squigglies, on her right hand, and a glove, wool too and covered with bright stripes green and blue, on her left. I guess they kind of match. Her scarf, socks, and gloves-slash-mittens, maybe her hat, too, are the only things she wears with bright color combinations. Maybe she does like to wear them after all. She just doesn't want to admit it. If you mention it, she gets pouty and says "Nuh uh" and furrows her brow. It's so adorable you can't help but laugh and hug her. She gives you a light punch on the shoulder and acts mad for a second more. Then she slips on the ice and drags you down with her. You just sit there, laughing, while the snow makes your pants all soggy.
She won't quit writing on her shoes. Of course, sometimes neither can I. I think that's one of the few oddities we have in common. I'm so weird, and she's so out there. Our conversations are games of cat and mouse, but the animals are blindfolded and cheese is everywhere. Who can keep up? I'm sorry if you even try. I don't. I just spit out whatever comes to mind because I'm confident she'll do the same, and somehow we'll understand. Everyone else will just raise an eyebrow, maybe two, and be baffled. It's ok. Her socks don't match. She's wearing two gloves today though. That's good. It's hard to hold hands the way I like when you're wearing mittens. I wish I could pull off earmuffs like she can. It wouldn't help, though. Even if they looked good on me, they'd get in the way of my big headphones. If my headphones are so big, why would I need earmuffs anyway? She brings this up more often than she knows, but it's ok. I think it's cute. She wears those little iPod ear-buds under her earmuffs. She swears by her iPod, but she respects the fact that I boycott Apple products. We both use PC's anyway. Her laptop's kind of old, at least by my standards. I think I might try and get her a new one for Christmas. Maybe it's not a good idea to buy Christmas gifts for a girl you've never met.
She thinks it's sweet how geeky I am. She doesn't know a whole lot about computers, but she never interrupts me when I start rambling about them. Her smile is subdued. I love it. I never want to change it. Her laugh, though, is amazing: clear and loud and disruptive in public places. I never want to change it either. Her hands can be kind of dangerous if she finds something really funny. She's going to bruise her thigh one of these days when I say something particularly stupid. I have that talent of saying things that are inappropriate, but extremely funny if your sense of humor is equally inappropriate. Hers is exactly that. Sometimes I can't believe the things she laughs at. She’s really smart. She loves to read. She reads a lot of books I never have, but we share a lot of favorites. We both agree Joel Olsteen is freakin’ creepy. Date-rape face is right.
Her temper is legendary. I love it when she gets pissed at other people. It’s an awesome sight. I could sell tickets. I make sure to keep on her good side. She's so small, but she eats more than me. It's really quite a sight to see. Her Taco Bell fix is going to bankrupt me. She has no piercings, but she thinks she wants a tattoo. Her ears are amazing. Sometimes I just have to kiss her earlobe. I can't help but laugh whenever I do. It's a small laugh, quiet and private. She looks at me like I'm crazy, but she always smiles while doing it. Her hair is originally brown, kind of a light brown. Her eyes aren't brown. I don't know what color they are, maybe green, but they're not brown. She is my editor. She likes proofreading the things I write, which is good because I am pathetic when it comes to proofreading my own writings. She's not a concept. She has problems, but she lets me in on them. That's more important to me than her gloves-slash-mittens, or the way she laughs at kids dropping their ice cream. She's just as open with me as I am with her. We take our time getting to know each other. There's no rush.
If we ever don't work out, we couldn't be friends. It just wouldn't work. I don't want kids, but she'd convince me to have them. She'd make such a wonderful mother. Maybe she'll make up for how awkward I feel around kids. She loves kids. They love her back. I sometimes feel a little jealous of how much attention she pays to kids, but I know it's really childish of me. It's ironic. I don't mention it to her. She knows how insecure I am about her guy friends. It's not that I don't trust her. I just don't trust my ability to keep her. She understands this. She can somehow always just wash those doubts and worries away with just a smile. I don't even see her mouth when she smiles up close like this. It's just her eyes. Her eyes tell me I have nothing to worry about. I'm worth keeping. She makes sure I know I'm worth keeping. She assures me that she won't abandon me. I get teary eyed and try to macho it away as she blushes and calls me a baby before hugging me and kissing the top of my head. She's really warm in that puffy jacket of hers. Her hair's a different color today. She's got a bruise on her knee where she slipped and bumped the toilet seat. When I look at that bruise, and remember how she pouted about it to me at dinner, I just close my eyes and feel happy. Happy.
Marshmallows.
I like girls who are clumsy and can laugh about it. I like girls who are different just because they don't fight their impulsive nature. I like girls that make me feel boring in comparison but never make me feel bored. She has a beauty mark on her cheek. It's small, but I love it.
I have strange taste in movies. Hers is even stranger. Eclectic bonding at work. Paired eccentrics. I can't understand why she out-wrestles me, even when I try to win. I'm so much bigger, but somehow she's stronger when she's laughing. Sometimes on very, very rare occasions...she snorts when she laughs. She'll blush and cover her face and someone passing by might think she's crying. She's beautiful how awkward she is. She makes me feel capable. I'm not as embarrassed to be embarrassed around her. She speeds. She can drive a stick shift. She loves her music loud. Her driving scares me. Whenever I do ride with her, I want to kiss her at the stop light. Seeing her shift gears is so attractive to me. She can't mess with the radio and drive at the same time, but she tries anyway. Maybe this will be our last stoplight. Maybe that's why I keep kissing her.
She's not imaginary. She's out there. Somewhere. It's cold where she is. She loves snow. I hate it when my toes are cold. Her toes get cold too, but she wears toe socks, so it's ok. It gives her a reason, even though she doesn't need one. She hates Croc sandals as much as I do. We take turns making fun of people who wear them. Her fingernails aren't painted. Sometimes they are, but the paint never stays long. You can't cover her up. I can blend in with a crowd, unless she's there. She's her own crowd, but she only likes small groups. Sex with her is quiet and sweet and creative. She can't stop decorating her lamps and lampshades. She wears really long knit scarves. Most of the time, kissing her is a little awkward and quick, because she always smiles a little bit when we kiss. But when she doesn't, it's always long and slow and very engulfed in its own moment. She calls me on my shit, but she never makes me feel bad about it. She knows more about classic rock than I do, but she doesn't doubt my love for it. Her snow men and snow angels always wind up being obscene and vulgar. Don't trust her with pointy things. She'll poke you. Seriously; tell her to put the carrot down. You don't want to wind up like that snowman, do you?
She inspires me to keep a journal, even if only to write about her. But I don't. She somehow enables me to write about all the things I can never seem to get out of my head. Even the thought of her, the potential of her, allows me to express. Just like now. Her name is so different, but it suits her. But it's a real name. It's not an adjective or some nature-related noun or cosmic ideal like Faith or Serenity. Hers is a real name; it just isn't one you hear on girls very often. She's not found very often. She doesn't need to be. God created two universes; terra firma duality: hers and the rest of us. When I'm around her, hers is a universe of two. She draws me in. I'm wearing leather gloves. She's got one mitten, blue and pink squigglies, on her right hand, and a glove, wool too and covered with bright stripes green and blue, on her left. I guess they kind of match. Her scarf, socks, and gloves-slash-mittens, maybe her hat, too, are the only things she wears with bright color combinations. Maybe she does like to wear them after all. She just doesn't want to admit it. If you mention it, she gets pouty and says "Nuh uh" and furrows her brow. It's so adorable you can't help but laugh and hug her. She gives you a light punch on the shoulder and acts mad for a second more. Then she slips on the ice and drags you down with her. You just sit there, laughing, while the snow makes your pants all soggy.
She won't quit writing on her shoes. Of course, sometimes neither can I. I think that's one of the few oddities we have in common. I'm so weird, and she's so out there. Our conversations are games of cat and mouse, but the animals are blindfolded and cheese is everywhere. Who can keep up? I'm sorry if you even try. I don't. I just spit out whatever comes to mind because I'm confident she'll do the same, and somehow we'll understand. Everyone else will just raise an eyebrow, maybe two, and be baffled. It's ok. Her socks don't match. She's wearing two gloves today though. That's good. It's hard to hold hands the way I like when you're wearing mittens. I wish I could pull off earmuffs like she can. It wouldn't help, though. Even if they looked good on me, they'd get in the way of my big headphones. If my headphones are so big, why would I need earmuffs anyway? She brings this up more often than she knows, but it's ok. I think it's cute. She wears those little iPod ear-buds under her earmuffs. She swears by her iPod, but she respects the fact that I boycott Apple products. We both use PC's anyway. Her laptop's kind of old, at least by my standards. I think I might try and get her a new one for Christmas. Maybe it's not a good idea to buy Christmas gifts for a girl you've never met.
She thinks it's sweet how geeky I am. She doesn't know a whole lot about computers, but she never interrupts me when I start rambling about them. Her smile is subdued. I love it. I never want to change it. Her laugh, though, is amazing: clear and loud and disruptive in public places. I never want to change it either. Her hands can be kind of dangerous if she finds something really funny. She's going to bruise her thigh one of these days when I say something particularly stupid. I have that talent of saying things that are inappropriate, but extremely funny if your sense of humor is equally inappropriate. Hers is exactly that. Sometimes I can't believe the things she laughs at. She’s really smart. She loves to read. She reads a lot of books I never have, but we share a lot of favorites. We both agree Joel Olsteen is freakin’ creepy. Date-rape face is right.
Her temper is legendary. I love it when she gets pissed at other people. It’s an awesome sight. I could sell tickets. I make sure to keep on her good side. She's so small, but she eats more than me. It's really quite a sight to see. Her Taco Bell fix is going to bankrupt me. She has no piercings, but she thinks she wants a tattoo. Her ears are amazing. Sometimes I just have to kiss her earlobe. I can't help but laugh whenever I do. It's a small laugh, quiet and private. She looks at me like I'm crazy, but she always smiles while doing it. Her hair is originally brown, kind of a light brown. Her eyes aren't brown. I don't know what color they are, maybe green, but they're not brown. She is my editor. She likes proofreading the things I write, which is good because I am pathetic when it comes to proofreading my own writings. She's not a concept. She has problems, but she lets me in on them. That's more important to me than her gloves-slash-mittens, or the way she laughs at kids dropping their ice cream. She's just as open with me as I am with her. We take our time getting to know each other. There's no rush.
If we ever don't work out, we couldn't be friends. It just wouldn't work. I don't want kids, but she'd convince me to have them. She'd make such a wonderful mother. Maybe she'll make up for how awkward I feel around kids. She loves kids. They love her back. I sometimes feel a little jealous of how much attention she pays to kids, but I know it's really childish of me. It's ironic. I don't mention it to her. She knows how insecure I am about her guy friends. It's not that I don't trust her. I just don't trust my ability to keep her. She understands this. She can somehow always just wash those doubts and worries away with just a smile. I don't even see her mouth when she smiles up close like this. It's just her eyes. Her eyes tell me I have nothing to worry about. I'm worth keeping. She makes sure I know I'm worth keeping. She assures me that she won't abandon me. I get teary eyed and try to macho it away as she blushes and calls me a baby before hugging me and kissing the top of my head. She's really warm in that puffy jacket of hers. Her hair's a different color today. She's got a bruise on her knee where she slipped and bumped the toilet seat. When I look at that bruise, and remember how she pouted about it to me at dinner, I just close my eyes and feel happy. Happy.
Marshmallows.
I like girls who are clumsy and can laugh about it. I like girls who are different just because they don't fight their impulsive nature. I like girls that make me feel boring in comparison but never make me feel bored. She has a beauty mark on her cheek. It's small, but I love it.
Nibbling...
They sat; both on a bench in the park, each fully understanding just how quaint the sight really was. For one hundred and twelve minutes, neither said a word. They opted instead to communicate through coffee sips and biscuit nibbles. She wore very pink high heels next to his brown leather loafers, sans pennies. Crumbs were everywhere.
The next morning, in the taxi and on the subway, separately, both decided they might like biscuits and coffee for lunch. He wore pennies today. Maybe she’ll find them funny in between sips and nibbles.
The next morning, in the taxi and on the subway, separately, both decided they might like biscuits and coffee for lunch. He wore pennies today. Maybe she’ll find them funny in between sips and nibbles.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
OMGWTFBBQ!?!?!
I just had a dream where I was part of a 3-girl-1-guy Hentai orgy involving Sakake from 'Azumanga Daioh', Mikuru from 'The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya, and Nurse Joy from 'Pokemon'...
Oh yeah, and Sakake and Nurse Joy were hermaphrodites. And the entire dream took place on a submarine which was also an underwater Co-Ed college. And I was not only a student but the guy who makes sure all the electrical systems are in running order.
Sakake wanted to stick it in my butt. Nurse Joy wanted seconds. My butt was not thrilled at the idea. I convinced them to turn on Mikuru and I filmed it with my cell phone and sold it to the Emperor of Japan, who gave me my own island full of supercomputers, HDTV's, gaming consoles, fellow otakus and anime booth babes.
...I think I've reached a new level of geekocity.
P.S. - I was also drawn in anime mode. Roflpocalypse.
Oh yeah, and Sakake and Nurse Joy were hermaphrodites. And the entire dream took place on a submarine which was also an underwater Co-Ed college. And I was not only a student but the guy who makes sure all the electrical systems are in running order.
Sakake wanted to stick it in my butt. Nurse Joy wanted seconds. My butt was not thrilled at the idea. I convinced them to turn on Mikuru and I filmed it with my cell phone and sold it to the Emperor of Japan, who gave me my own island full of supercomputers, HDTV's, gaming consoles, fellow otakus and anime booth babes.
...I think I've reached a new level of geekocity.
P.S. - I was also drawn in anime mode. Roflpocalypse.
Friday, February 6, 2009
Update and 25 reasons to elope to Rock Hill with your new phone
So it’s been a short minute since I last updated. Ironically enough, most people delay updates because nothing interesting ever happens and they just post surveys or random crap. Me? I didn’t post because too much interesting stuff was happening in my life.
One of the biggest things sucking up my time is my new phone. A friend gave me his Sony Ericsson W580i media phone because he was getting a new phone with a new carrier. He only had this phone for about 3 months, so it’s almost in completely brand-new condition. I’d been looking at it for a long time, but I didn’t want to upgrade my contract in order to get it and buying the phone without the 2yr renewal would’ve cost around $250. So I think I really lucked out.
Now, this phone is leagues better than my old phone, for many reasons:
-It’s a slider, so the keypad won’t break on me like the old one did.
-It’s got a metal chassis, so it’s not nearly as fragile. My old Nokia would fall, break into 5 pieces and was easily put back together, but eventually things began breaking and snapping. This one drops and goes “clang!” and the ground goes “ow, muthafucka!”
-The screen is a lot larger than my old phone and it’s got a protective layer to keep dust out, so it won’t get all filmy and hard to read.
-It’s a music-centric phone, so it doubles as an MP3 player and has dedicated music buttons when in Walkman mode.
-I finally have a phone that has a camera! It’s only 2 megapixels, but the photos actually look very nice if the lighting is good. The video quality for the recordings leave a bit to be desired, but what can you expect out of a phone that fits in my change pocket? Plus, the videos look great on the screen, since the resolution is very high for the size of the screen.
-You can upload videos and music from your PC to the phone or record sounds to it. I’ve got around 500 songs and 5 or 6 videos and close to 700 pictures on it, with the help of a 2GB memory card. I still have 800mb free, so I’m pretty happy with that.
-If you crop a song down to less than 40seconds and save it on your PC and then import it to the phone, you can use that as a ringtone for yourself or anybody. I’ve got a nice suite of sound editing programs, so I now have separate ringtones for about 20 of my contacts. The time limit also applies to videos, so my friend Kelli’s ringtone is the actual opening to the anime ‘Lucky Star’. I love it when she calls because I look down at my phone and see the video playing…and don’t wanna answer, lol.
Here’s a list of who has what ringtones so far:
General ringtone – “I’m Not Jesus” by Apocalyptica
Mike Shea – ‘Afterlife’ by Avenged Sevenfold
Matt Croshaw – ‘Bad Luck to Say God Luck on Opening Night’ from the music ‘The Producers’
Michelle Boyce – ‘Ten Speed (Of God’s Blood and Burial)’ by Coheed and Cambria
Beth Propst – ‘Bad Girl’ by Cowboy Mouth
Jestin Henry – ‘The Little Things’ by Danny Elfman (or however you spell his name)
Rachel Huskey – ‘The Mouse and the Model’ by the Dresden Dolls
Joe Birmingham – ‘Everyone Else Has Had More Sex Than Me’ from some internet video
Chad Lane – ‘Handlebars’ by Flobots
My Dad’s Cell # - ‘Touch of Grey’ by The Grateful Dead
My Dad’s Work # - ‘Truckin’ by The Grateful Dead
Lawson – ‘The Internet is for Porn’ from Avenue Q
Daniel Brown – ‘La Vie Boheme’ from RENT: The Movie Soundtrack
Kelli Hall – ‘Lucky Star’ intro video
Jeremy Morrow – ‘Ooh Wee’ from the Need for Speed: Most Wanted soundtrack
Morgan Jesse – ‘Smoke Two Joints’ by Sublime
Russell Felder – ‘Tonto (Jump On It)’ by the Sugar Hill Gang
Dave Collins – ‘American Pie’ by Don McClean
Brady Robles – ‘Sandstorm’ by Darude
Jugger – ‘I’m the Juggernaut, BITCH!’ sound clip
All other TKE’s currently have ‘They’re going to take me away’ by Dr. Demento as their ringtone.
*- I’m still working on more and taking requests.
-I finally have a phone worth buying ringbacks for. If you call me during the daytime, you’ll hear the guitar solo from ‘Stairway to Heaven’ by Led Zeppelin, since I figure that’s safe for potential employers to hear, and if you call me at night, you hear my ringtone: the chorus to “I’m Not Jesus”, by Apocalyptica.
-When I receive a text message, my phone plays Bruce Lee going ‘Wataa!” and when I get a voicemail, my phone says ‘Mail, Muthafucka!’
-I love the fact my phone has light effects. The phone literally does its own laser light show when I receive a call.
-I finally have a phone capable of instant messaging and internet browsing. Too bad I refuse to pay for internet, lol.
-I actually love the way the phone looks. It just oozes personality, unlike the super minimalistic conformist phones that are coming out now. iPhone, I’m looking at you.
-I can customize the GUI to insane lengths. I have a custom theme, custom wallpaper, custom screensaver, customer menus, the works.
-Reception is awesome.
-Sound quality from the speaker is really nice and surprisingly loud.
Things I Don’t Like:
-You can only use M2 memory cards
-No 3.5mm jack for headphones.
-All accessories are either proprietary through Sony or have to use the proprietary input.
-Battery life is meh.
-The actual earphone speaker is too quiet.
-Nothing else. This phone rocks!
Ok, enough about the phone. Now, as to the other reason I haven’t update in a while: I eloped to Rock Hill for 2 days without telling anyone, lol. I had only planned to go to Columbia to visit Mike and meet his girlfriend, which I did (She’s such a cutie, Mike! And so smart, too! Congrats!) but they couldn’t stay to hang out for very long, so I was left with a night off work and half a tank of gas and a huge restlessness within me. It was a 2-hour drive home and I wasn’t looking forward to it. It’s a 1-hour drive from Columbia to Rock Hill, where I hadn’t visited in nearly a year.
I got to Rock Hill in 35 minutes; spent 5 minutes having to go in the back way, though, since some ASSHOLE IN A HONDA ACCORD blocked me from getting onto the right exit ramp. Everyone was really surprised to see me, except for Meredith and Becca because Mike TOLD THEM I WAS COMING. Jerk. Just kidding, bro. I’m not mad. I told my dad I was crashing with Mike in Columbia, though. He still doesn’t know I went to Rock Hill.
But I had a lot of fun. I caught the flu from hanging out with Rachel while crashing at her place, lol. Luckily I’m already over. Sadly, she is not. *Hug for Rachel*. The first night and day were awesome. I got to hang out and meet a lot of people I’d missed a lot more than I knew, like Kelli, Meredith, Becca and Rachel. I missed my little sisters so much. Of course, Rachel’s hardly a little sister to me. I think she’d kicked me in the shin if I called her that, lol. I just think it’s a little odd to refer to your ex as your sister. I mean, I don’t live THAT far south. I just consider us super-amazing close friends, lol.
The only bad part was that I’d been nearly 30 hours without sleep by the time I crashed at Rachel’s place and for some reason, I had trouble sleeping. I just kind of dozed in and out and tossed around for the night. So upon the next day, I was hardly a bundle of energy. I spent most of the second day wandering around campus and hanging out with lots of my TKE brothers at the Wall. It was really good seeing them again. My last semester had left me pretty inactive and I’d forgotten just how much I’d missed being a TKE.
I got to hang out with Michelle and catch up on stuff. She’s engaged to Vick now. Not sure how I feel about that pairing, but whatever. If they’re happy, then I’m glad for them. I’m just glad that she and I were able to actually hang out and laugh a bit without it being too awkward. Don’t get me wrong, it was VERY awkward, and I still can’t stand how she just grunts along like a guy when you’re confiding in her, but once she told me about her and Vick, most of the tension was gone and we were able to just hang out and shoot the breeze. I think it was a very healthy thing for me to do. It gave me a sense of closure that I’d substituted with anger, mistrust and resentment.
I also got to hang out with Kelli for a good while. She’s probably my closest little sister from Winthrop. We even share the same last name, lol. But we’re always able to talk to each other about the most personal things no matter what, despite the fact we haven’t known each other for all that long. It really is strange how quickly that Big-Brother-Little-Sister bond formed. She confides in me and all I wanna do is protect her. As such, she was feeling down that day, so I decided to take her for a ride while I went to get Rachel some food form Sake Express since Rachel was too sick to drive. I’m really happy that I got to introduce Kelli to Maximum the Hormone. I can’t believe she didn’t know who they, but she did recognize the songs from the Death Note anime. She said she really likes them, which is awesome because I LOVE THEM!
Once we dropped off Rachel’s food and I decided to stay another night, I called my dad, told him, I was driving straight to work (I work nights) from ‘Columbia’ and not stopping by the house. I also called work and told them I had car trouble and was not going to make it in. So, yes, I skipped work and lied to my dad in order to spend the night in Rock Hill, hence the word ‘eloped’. I know, I’m going to hell and all that jazz.
Like I care.
After hanging out at Rachel’s for a bit, I took Kelli back to campus (in a much improved mood) and met up with the token TKE twins: Brett and Bryant. We hung out, had adventures drifting in the Wal-Mart parking lot and hunting down associates in Wal-Mart for phone accessories. I am sad to admit that the cashier played a trick on me. I swear to all that is odd and strange, though, that I would not have fallen for her trick if I was not low on sleep! Anyways, after Wal-Mart, we all got Taco Bell. Now, me, Meredith, Rachel and Becca had already gotten Taco Bell the night before and had WAY too much fun with the drive through girl and nearly exploding Rachel’s microwave, so I think I’m good on my Taco Bell quota for a couple months *pats stomach*.
Once the twins knew I was staying the night, they took me to the TKE Rock Band night. Suffice to say, it was very fun, but I regret the fact that, in my sleepless delirium, I actually got on the microphone instead of staying on the drums where I belong. Much shameful screaming ensued and I shall speak no more of it. Though I will say this: THAT TV SUCKED! Lol.
I stayed the night at Rachel’s again because I couldn’t get a hold of anyone else (Meredith why the hell don’t you EVER answer your goddamn phone!?) and when I awoke the next day, it was plain to me that I’d caught the flu, lol. As such, the drive home was not fun. But it WAS fast. I had to get home really fast because my dad thought I was down in Myrtle Beach fixing a friend’s PC and needed me to bring Joe and Mike some tools out of my car and they’d been trying to reach me all morning.
It’s a 3.5 hour drive if you take the interstate. I made it in 2.
I did 90mph all the way home. I literally smoked tires on the ramp that connects I-77 to I-20. By the time I got to the bottom, I was finishing the right hand turn by steering left…in a front-wheel drive car, lol. Thank God for stick-shifts!
I swear my car was sweating when I finally turned it off in the driveway. I mean, my car is pretty fast for a Saturn. I’ve taken it up to 125mph before, but it’s not made for doing 90mph on a trip from one end of the state to the other.
Once I made it home and skirted getting found out…I slept. Deeply.
I’m still kinda tired and I can feel the after-effects of my short bout with the flu, which is why this entry, as long as it is, doesn’t go as in-depth as my blogs usually do. But despite the flu, the lack of sleep, the lost wages from skipping work and narrowly escaping being found out, it was completely worth it. To all my friends in Rock Hill, I promise to make it up for a longer, more legitimate trip before I move to Missouri. And this time, I’ll be plenty rested and ready to party!
And, just because I was tagged close to 10 million times:
25 Random Facts About Me:
1 – I hate movies with happy endings. This pretty much excludes any inspirational sports movie from my list of movies to watch. Seeing a happy ending with no major consequences from the crisis just makes me ill.
2 – I listen to very little American music. Most of my favorite rock bands are either British or Japanese.
3 – I would gladly give up sex for a year if that meant free internet, Netflix, Gamefly and Xbox Live for that year.
4 – I am an extreme social liberal and a fiscal conservative.
5 – Boxer-briefs.
6 – My dream car is a Mini Cooper S, which only costs $30,000. Pathetic, I know.
7- I don’t want a peaceful death. That’s boring. I want an exciting, unusual death that will make headlines and be remembered for decades.
8 – I have a phobia of people touching my neck.
9 – I generally don’t like hanging out with guys. I get along with girls much better.
10 – I love cats. I can’t stand dogs.
11 – If I had any super power in the world, it would be Hiro Nakamura’s power from ‘Heroes’: the ability to manipulate time and space.
12 – I am 5’11”, which is extremely short for my family. I’m expected to hit one last growth spurt and finish up around 6’4”.
13 – It was snowing the night I was born has snowed every year of my life since I was born. No matter where I've lived, each winter it snows at least once. Even when I was living in Austin, Texas for 2 years, it snowed both winters: 6 inches the first winter and 8 the next.
14 – I get really nervous and anxious when I drive cars with automatic transmissions.
15 – My favorite books are the kind that make you sometimes put the book down and just sit there and think about what you just read.
16 – My life experiences have led me to have a really dark and twisted sense of humor that centers on the humor of irony.
17 – I had been 10 months and 14 days since I last cut myself.
18 – I get really serious about getting gifts for people. I make it a huge personal challenge to get each person a gift that is special to them. This makes me an awesome boyfriend around Valentine’s Day and a broke-as-fuck friend at Christmas time.
19 – I cut my own hair.
20 – I have been homeless and have lived on the street before.
21 – I believe in true love.
22 – I am extremely good at reading people. I can usually know exactly what kind of person someone is after only being around them for a couple of minutes. It’s getting to the point where I only have to see them in person, now, instead of having to see them and hear them talk.
23- I am an agnostic, but the closest approximation to what I believe is Wicca.
24 – I believe in magic, ghosts, auras, aliens, and other dimensions.
25- The one that that arouses me more than anything else in the word is a nice, long kiss.
One of the biggest things sucking up my time is my new phone. A friend gave me his Sony Ericsson W580i media phone because he was getting a new phone with a new carrier. He only had this phone for about 3 months, so it’s almost in completely brand-new condition. I’d been looking at it for a long time, but I didn’t want to upgrade my contract in order to get it and buying the phone without the 2yr renewal would’ve cost around $250. So I think I really lucked out.
Now, this phone is leagues better than my old phone, for many reasons:
-It’s a slider, so the keypad won’t break on me like the old one did.
-It’s got a metal chassis, so it’s not nearly as fragile. My old Nokia would fall, break into 5 pieces and was easily put back together, but eventually things began breaking and snapping. This one drops and goes “clang!” and the ground goes “ow, muthafucka!”
-The screen is a lot larger than my old phone and it’s got a protective layer to keep dust out, so it won’t get all filmy and hard to read.
-It’s a music-centric phone, so it doubles as an MP3 player and has dedicated music buttons when in Walkman mode.
-I finally have a phone that has a camera! It’s only 2 megapixels, but the photos actually look very nice if the lighting is good. The video quality for the recordings leave a bit to be desired, but what can you expect out of a phone that fits in my change pocket? Plus, the videos look great on the screen, since the resolution is very high for the size of the screen.
-You can upload videos and music from your PC to the phone or record sounds to it. I’ve got around 500 songs and 5 or 6 videos and close to 700 pictures on it, with the help of a 2GB memory card. I still have 800mb free, so I’m pretty happy with that.
-If you crop a song down to less than 40seconds and save it on your PC and then import it to the phone, you can use that as a ringtone for yourself or anybody. I’ve got a nice suite of sound editing programs, so I now have separate ringtones for about 20 of my contacts. The time limit also applies to videos, so my friend Kelli’s ringtone is the actual opening to the anime ‘Lucky Star’. I love it when she calls because I look down at my phone and see the video playing…and don’t wanna answer, lol.
Here’s a list of who has what ringtones so far:
General ringtone – “I’m Not Jesus” by Apocalyptica
Mike Shea – ‘Afterlife’ by Avenged Sevenfold
Matt Croshaw – ‘Bad Luck to Say God Luck on Opening Night’ from the music ‘The Producers’
Michelle Boyce – ‘Ten Speed (Of God’s Blood and Burial)’ by Coheed and Cambria
Beth Propst – ‘Bad Girl’ by Cowboy Mouth
Jestin Henry – ‘The Little Things’ by Danny Elfman (or however you spell his name)
Rachel Huskey – ‘The Mouse and the Model’ by the Dresden Dolls
Joe Birmingham – ‘Everyone Else Has Had More Sex Than Me’ from some internet video
Chad Lane – ‘Handlebars’ by Flobots
My Dad’s Cell # - ‘Touch of Grey’ by The Grateful Dead
My Dad’s Work # - ‘Truckin’ by The Grateful Dead
Lawson – ‘The Internet is for Porn’ from Avenue Q
Daniel Brown – ‘La Vie Boheme’ from RENT: The Movie Soundtrack
Kelli Hall – ‘Lucky Star’ intro video
Jeremy Morrow – ‘Ooh Wee’ from the Need for Speed: Most Wanted soundtrack
Morgan Jesse – ‘Smoke Two Joints’ by Sublime
Russell Felder – ‘Tonto (Jump On It)’ by the Sugar Hill Gang
Dave Collins – ‘American Pie’ by Don McClean
Brady Robles – ‘Sandstorm’ by Darude
Jugger – ‘I’m the Juggernaut, BITCH!’ sound clip
All other TKE’s currently have ‘They’re going to take me away’ by Dr. Demento as their ringtone.
*- I’m still working on more and taking requests.
-I finally have a phone worth buying ringbacks for. If you call me during the daytime, you’ll hear the guitar solo from ‘Stairway to Heaven’ by Led Zeppelin, since I figure that’s safe for potential employers to hear, and if you call me at night, you hear my ringtone: the chorus to “I’m Not Jesus”, by Apocalyptica.
-When I receive a text message, my phone plays Bruce Lee going ‘Wataa!” and when I get a voicemail, my phone says ‘Mail, Muthafucka!’
-I love the fact my phone has light effects. The phone literally does its own laser light show when I receive a call.
-I finally have a phone capable of instant messaging and internet browsing. Too bad I refuse to pay for internet, lol.
-I actually love the way the phone looks. It just oozes personality, unlike the super minimalistic conformist phones that are coming out now. iPhone, I’m looking at you.
-I can customize the GUI to insane lengths. I have a custom theme, custom wallpaper, custom screensaver, customer menus, the works.
-Reception is awesome.
-Sound quality from the speaker is really nice and surprisingly loud.
Things I Don’t Like:
-You can only use M2 memory cards
-No 3.5mm jack for headphones.
-All accessories are either proprietary through Sony or have to use the proprietary input.
-Battery life is meh.
-The actual earphone speaker is too quiet.
-Nothing else. This phone rocks!
Ok, enough about the phone. Now, as to the other reason I haven’t update in a while: I eloped to Rock Hill for 2 days without telling anyone, lol. I had only planned to go to Columbia to visit Mike and meet his girlfriend, which I did (She’s such a cutie, Mike! And so smart, too! Congrats!) but they couldn’t stay to hang out for very long, so I was left with a night off work and half a tank of gas and a huge restlessness within me. It was a 2-hour drive home and I wasn’t looking forward to it. It’s a 1-hour drive from Columbia to Rock Hill, where I hadn’t visited in nearly a year.
I got to Rock Hill in 35 minutes; spent 5 minutes having to go in the back way, though, since some ASSHOLE IN A HONDA ACCORD blocked me from getting onto the right exit ramp. Everyone was really surprised to see me, except for Meredith and Becca because Mike TOLD THEM I WAS COMING. Jerk. Just kidding, bro. I’m not mad. I told my dad I was crashing with Mike in Columbia, though. He still doesn’t know I went to Rock Hill.
But I had a lot of fun. I caught the flu from hanging out with Rachel while crashing at her place, lol. Luckily I’m already over. Sadly, she is not. *Hug for Rachel*. The first night and day were awesome. I got to hang out and meet a lot of people I’d missed a lot more than I knew, like Kelli, Meredith, Becca and Rachel. I missed my little sisters so much. Of course, Rachel’s hardly a little sister to me. I think she’d kicked me in the shin if I called her that, lol. I just think it’s a little odd to refer to your ex as your sister. I mean, I don’t live THAT far south. I just consider us super-amazing close friends, lol.
The only bad part was that I’d been nearly 30 hours without sleep by the time I crashed at Rachel’s place and for some reason, I had trouble sleeping. I just kind of dozed in and out and tossed around for the night. So upon the next day, I was hardly a bundle of energy. I spent most of the second day wandering around campus and hanging out with lots of my TKE brothers at the Wall. It was really good seeing them again. My last semester had left me pretty inactive and I’d forgotten just how much I’d missed being a TKE.
I got to hang out with Michelle and catch up on stuff. She’s engaged to Vick now. Not sure how I feel about that pairing, but whatever. If they’re happy, then I’m glad for them. I’m just glad that she and I were able to actually hang out and laugh a bit without it being too awkward. Don’t get me wrong, it was VERY awkward, and I still can’t stand how she just grunts along like a guy when you’re confiding in her, but once she told me about her and Vick, most of the tension was gone and we were able to just hang out and shoot the breeze. I think it was a very healthy thing for me to do. It gave me a sense of closure that I’d substituted with anger, mistrust and resentment.
I also got to hang out with Kelli for a good while. She’s probably my closest little sister from Winthrop. We even share the same last name, lol. But we’re always able to talk to each other about the most personal things no matter what, despite the fact we haven’t known each other for all that long. It really is strange how quickly that Big-Brother-Little-Sister bond formed. She confides in me and all I wanna do is protect her. As such, she was feeling down that day, so I decided to take her for a ride while I went to get Rachel some food form Sake Express since Rachel was too sick to drive. I’m really happy that I got to introduce Kelli to Maximum the Hormone. I can’t believe she didn’t know who they, but she did recognize the songs from the Death Note anime. She said she really likes them, which is awesome because I LOVE THEM!
Once we dropped off Rachel’s food and I decided to stay another night, I called my dad, told him, I was driving straight to work (I work nights) from ‘Columbia’ and not stopping by the house. I also called work and told them I had car trouble and was not going to make it in. So, yes, I skipped work and lied to my dad in order to spend the night in Rock Hill, hence the word ‘eloped’. I know, I’m going to hell and all that jazz.
Like I care.
After hanging out at Rachel’s for a bit, I took Kelli back to campus (in a much improved mood) and met up with the token TKE twins: Brett and Bryant. We hung out, had adventures drifting in the Wal-Mart parking lot and hunting down associates in Wal-Mart for phone accessories. I am sad to admit that the cashier played a trick on me. I swear to all that is odd and strange, though, that I would not have fallen for her trick if I was not low on sleep! Anyways, after Wal-Mart, we all got Taco Bell. Now, me, Meredith, Rachel and Becca had already gotten Taco Bell the night before and had WAY too much fun with the drive through girl and nearly exploding Rachel’s microwave, so I think I’m good on my Taco Bell quota for a couple months *pats stomach*.
Once the twins knew I was staying the night, they took me to the TKE Rock Band night. Suffice to say, it was very fun, but I regret the fact that, in my sleepless delirium, I actually got on the microphone instead of staying on the drums where I belong. Much shameful screaming ensued and I shall speak no more of it. Though I will say this: THAT TV SUCKED! Lol.
I stayed the night at Rachel’s again because I couldn’t get a hold of anyone else (Meredith why the hell don’t you EVER answer your goddamn phone!?) and when I awoke the next day, it was plain to me that I’d caught the flu, lol. As such, the drive home was not fun. But it WAS fast. I had to get home really fast because my dad thought I was down in Myrtle Beach fixing a friend’s PC and needed me to bring Joe and Mike some tools out of my car and they’d been trying to reach me all morning.
It’s a 3.5 hour drive if you take the interstate. I made it in 2.
I did 90mph all the way home. I literally smoked tires on the ramp that connects I-77 to I-20. By the time I got to the bottom, I was finishing the right hand turn by steering left…in a front-wheel drive car, lol. Thank God for stick-shifts!
I swear my car was sweating when I finally turned it off in the driveway. I mean, my car is pretty fast for a Saturn. I’ve taken it up to 125mph before, but it’s not made for doing 90mph on a trip from one end of the state to the other.
Once I made it home and skirted getting found out…I slept. Deeply.
I’m still kinda tired and I can feel the after-effects of my short bout with the flu, which is why this entry, as long as it is, doesn’t go as in-depth as my blogs usually do. But despite the flu, the lack of sleep, the lost wages from skipping work and narrowly escaping being found out, it was completely worth it. To all my friends in Rock Hill, I promise to make it up for a longer, more legitimate trip before I move to Missouri. And this time, I’ll be plenty rested and ready to party!
And, just because I was tagged close to 10 million times:
25 Random Facts About Me:
1 – I hate movies with happy endings. This pretty much excludes any inspirational sports movie from my list of movies to watch. Seeing a happy ending with no major consequences from the crisis just makes me ill.
2 – I listen to very little American music. Most of my favorite rock bands are either British or Japanese.
3 – I would gladly give up sex for a year if that meant free internet, Netflix, Gamefly and Xbox Live for that year.
4 – I am an extreme social liberal and a fiscal conservative.
5 – Boxer-briefs.
6 – My dream car is a Mini Cooper S, which only costs $30,000. Pathetic, I know.
7- I don’t want a peaceful death. That’s boring. I want an exciting, unusual death that will make headlines and be remembered for decades.
8 – I have a phobia of people touching my neck.
9 – I generally don’t like hanging out with guys. I get along with girls much better.
10 – I love cats. I can’t stand dogs.
11 – If I had any super power in the world, it would be Hiro Nakamura’s power from ‘Heroes’: the ability to manipulate time and space.
12 – I am 5’11”, which is extremely short for my family. I’m expected to hit one last growth spurt and finish up around 6’4”.
13 – It was snowing the night I was born has snowed every year of my life since I was born. No matter where I've lived, each winter it snows at least once. Even when I was living in Austin, Texas for 2 years, it snowed both winters: 6 inches the first winter and 8 the next.
14 – I get really nervous and anxious when I drive cars with automatic transmissions.
15 – My favorite books are the kind that make you sometimes put the book down and just sit there and think about what you just read.
16 – My life experiences have led me to have a really dark and twisted sense of humor that centers on the humor of irony.
17 – I had been 10 months and 14 days since I last cut myself.
18 – I get really serious about getting gifts for people. I make it a huge personal challenge to get each person a gift that is special to them. This makes me an awesome boyfriend around Valentine’s Day and a broke-as-fuck friend at Christmas time.
19 – I cut my own hair.
20 – I have been homeless and have lived on the street before.
21 – I believe in true love.
22 – I am extremely good at reading people. I can usually know exactly what kind of person someone is after only being around them for a couple of minutes. It’s getting to the point where I only have to see them in person, now, instead of having to see them and hear them talk.
23- I am an agnostic, but the closest approximation to what I believe is Wicca.
24 – I believe in magic, ghosts, auras, aliens, and other dimensions.
25- The one that that arouses me more than anything else in the word is a nice, long kiss.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
