When I was growing up, my father used to take us to Purdue football games on the weekend. Being that he is an alumni, he figured we could all partake in a love of his while spending some quality family time as well. I wasn't much a fan of this idea; the last thing I wanted to do on the few days my lazy adolescent self could sleep in was drive to Indiana at 8 in the morning. Fights were had. Temper tantrums were thrown. Anyway, the times that I would go, I remember enjoying. It was towards the end of the 90's and Purdue had found this crazy good quarterback. He was quick and had an arm like a Greek myth and everyone knew who he was. Drew Brees became a household name for Purdue fans. We had confidence in him. We had faith in him. And even though he didnt bring us any titles, we got to watch him rise to the athlete he is today.
Across the line of scrimmage stood the rest of his team. The rest of the people who helped him get to where he is. And at the very end, towards out of bounds, stood a guy named Vinny Sutherland. He was Purdue's leading wide receiver and Drew Brees' go to guy. Like clock work, Brees could shit whip that ball 30 yards down the field and covered heavily or not, Vinny would catch it. Talk about hands and speed, that guy had it. We saw it every weekend. We knew it. We supported it. However, come draft time, he didnt make it first or second round like Drew. Shoot, he didnt even make early rounds at all. Vinny Sutherland got drafted near last as some scrap pick by some sub par team.
Two days ago, I found myself asking about what happened to him. I asked my dad if Sutherland was still playing and he replied,
"Oh no, he only did a year or two in. He got let go pretty fast."
I wasn't surprised as much as I was curious how Sutherland felt about this. Do you think he looks back at his time playing ball and says "that was the time of my life"? Or do you think he's bitter at his short comings?
This guy has family. He has friends and old coaches and people who supported and believed in him throughout his entire career. And every weekend, he went to that locker room, put on his cleats and his pads and went out on that field with hope that one day, it would pay off in a career. These people told him it would. They told him antic dotes from his childhood and how they always knew he'd grow up to be a great wide receiver. His coaches told him they always saw it. His friends bought his jersey. And three years later, he's a foot note to someone else's success story. Old news. Expired.
Now a days, I'd be surprised to find someone else who even knows his name.
This year has been full of really difficult lessons. Some I've taken quite well and others I've fumbled through like bad gloves. It hasn't been easy and it hasn't felt good. However, I've encountered one reoccurring problem and I'm not sure what I should be learning from it.
Multiple times throughout 2012, I've had people give up on me. Not just go our separate ways, but actually confront me on a real note, tell me things they're not okay with about me and then blatantly leave me behind. First, it was my brother. He told me I wasn't welcome in his house anymore. 3 years of close friendship and after one long winded confrontation, he was done with me. Next was someone I fell in love with. She brought me into her life and her family only to stop returning my calls months later. That one really fucked me up. Then my best friend stopped returning my calls. Then I met a girl who wants to just use me for my car. And now I'm here wondering if I'm really that easy to throw away or if I'm just constantly finding people who don't like me. I can't help but think the latter true.
The other day I texted an old friend. After the usual small talk, I just came out and said,
"Will you tell me that I'm not easy to forget ?"
She comforted me but it didn't work. I still feel really unimportant . I still feel like a useless foot note. I feel like I've been misguided with hope and rhetoric about my qualities and my potential and all I have to show for it most days is a broken version of who I want to be. Lonely. Forgettable. I feel ashamed for not being the person these people thought I was. For not being the friend that's worth keeping around. The boyfriend that's worth staying close to and loving. The son who's worth staying alive for...
I feel cornered by myself. I feel abandoned. But mostly, I'm sick of feeling this. All this. This blog is a testament to my bad choices and wrong moves and I'm over it. I need to make some drastic changes in my life and one needs to be the tone that I write in. My voice is even starting to annoy me. That said, this will be my last addition to this blog.
I've been placing my thoughts here for 2 years now. This has been my home. My confessional. My tissue. And now it's time to turn a new page. I appreciate anyone who has come by to keep me company and entertain my pitiful nonsense. Someday, whenever it is I can turn around and start producing stuff I'm proud of again, you'll find me. Unless you forget about me which in that case, fuck you.
Im Tim Minor and I'm stitched up and still running with scissors.
Saturday, December 1, 2012
Friday, October 12, 2012
Home
He rolled over on his side to look at her. Moving his arm up her rib cage like water, he guided the hair over her ear and listened. Not a word was said. It was simple. Comfortable. She nested her head into his grasp and smiled gently like sun light.
Air went in and out. Legs root twisted like vines. Locked. One.
"We're going to heal each other," he said.
There was silence. A beautiful quietness that said everything it needed to. And there they were, infinite in that moment.
"We're going to heal each other," he said.
There was silence. A beautiful quietness that said everything it needed to. And there they were, infinite in that moment.
Monday, October 1, 2012
Mantra
Some day, you'll find someone worth fighting for. Then shortly after, you will lose that fight. It happens. A lot. I can't tell you how many fights I've lost. Honestly I can't. But I can tell you that I've learned. I've learned to take it on the chin. Learned to wipe the dirt off and get up. I've learned to try again, even if when she left me she said she couldn't love me any more, I wasn't right for her or I just couldn't give her what she wants. Learn to feel bad. Real bad. Learn that it's okay to feel bad. Learn forgiveness. One of the most powerful actions is to stare advirsity in the face and say I forgive you. I don't hate you. I don't harbor negativity towards you. Even though I can't forget you, I can say you were one of the most difficult lessons I never wanted to learn and I appreciate your impact. Learn to cry . Openly. On shoulders or in cupped hands by the dumpsters at work. Just let go. Even if its just for a minute, it's necessary. Don't ever be ashamed of your emotions. They are you and you are entitled to them. You're entitled to happiness. You are entitled to love. Learn to keep loving. Learn to keep breathing. Learn to be. Just be.
This is my mantra for the week. Today is day one of my vow of silence. Time to think.
This is my mantra for the week. Today is day one of my vow of silence. Time to think.
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
Pit
Most of the time, when I come to the page , I have some direction. Some sort of non fiction to twist into a meaning or build relevancy to where I'm at and what I'm dealing with . Today is different. I have nothing . Absolutely nothing . No metaphors or pretty language or anything.
Today I feel like giving up. That's about it. I feel like I need to express this somehow and being that I've surrounded myself with people who don't see that I'm drowning or are drowning themselves, maybe the page can be my band aid.
I have nothing going right. Still. Not one thing. I am ashamed that this has become my theme song. Which would then be followed by a womp womp and a down scale on a trombone and me with a single tear drop on my cheek. Funny or not, Im starting to think this is true. And I just dont get it. I try so fucking hard to just be and go and do and work and process and at the end of it all , Im still broken. How can shit pile up so fast? Just last week I was feeling good about things. Maybe I was coming down from all the praises from my birthday. Maybe I was just bein more optimistic. Whatever the case , I hate now. This very moment, I hate it. I hate feeling unheard. I hate feeling lonely. I hate feeling unaccomplished and stuck. I hate being looked past. Or over. Sometimes I just hate being looked at at all. The fuck you looking at anyway? I hate being full of hate. I hate not being good enough. I hate my fucking job. I hate my love life or what I would call one. I hate empty beds. I hate jealousy. I hate excuses. I hate gossip. I hate country music. I hate pt cruisers. I hate math.
But mostly I hate myself. And I hate saying that.
Lately, I've been having this feeling that's almost indescribable. The closest comparison would be to that feeling you get when you stand up too fast mixed in with the feeling of hitting someone's dog with your car . I feel like I've done something really horrible. And I don't know what but its scary. I've woke up sweating and in tears the last few days and every time, I come up with some radical conclusion. Yesterday, I decided I was going to buy a one way ticket. Today was a vow of silence . Both ways scream that I'm desprite. I'm grabbing at air. And it's then, right then that I feel the worst part of it all. It feels like something snaps. Like I don't know what to do but this isn't it and I can't be here any more but I am. For lack of a better way to say it, I feel like I'm going to jump out of my skin and I can't and I'm trapped and my heads spinning and my breathing gets tighter. It's troubling. It's tormenting. I feel like admitting myself ...
I haven't figured out if I'm staying or leaving. Time will tell. All I know right now is I need a hug. No words. No nothing . Just an embrace so I can break a little and then I don't want to speak of it ever again. Just let me lay in your lap and feel loved for one second. That's all. That's all I want.
I know that's a lot to ask for. I wish love was free.
Today I feel like giving up. That's about it. I feel like I need to express this somehow and being that I've surrounded myself with people who don't see that I'm drowning or are drowning themselves, maybe the page can be my band aid.
I have nothing going right. Still. Not one thing. I am ashamed that this has become my theme song. Which would then be followed by a womp womp and a down scale on a trombone and me with a single tear drop on my cheek. Funny or not, Im starting to think this is true. And I just dont get it. I try so fucking hard to just be and go and do and work and process and at the end of it all , Im still broken. How can shit pile up so fast? Just last week I was feeling good about things. Maybe I was coming down from all the praises from my birthday. Maybe I was just bein more optimistic. Whatever the case , I hate now. This very moment, I hate it. I hate feeling unheard. I hate feeling lonely. I hate feeling unaccomplished and stuck. I hate being looked past. Or over. Sometimes I just hate being looked at at all. The fuck you looking at anyway? I hate being full of hate. I hate not being good enough. I hate my fucking job. I hate my love life or what I would call one. I hate empty beds. I hate jealousy. I hate excuses. I hate gossip. I hate country music. I hate pt cruisers. I hate math.
But mostly I hate myself. And I hate saying that.
Lately, I've been having this feeling that's almost indescribable. The closest comparison would be to that feeling you get when you stand up too fast mixed in with the feeling of hitting someone's dog with your car . I feel like I've done something really horrible. And I don't know what but its scary. I've woke up sweating and in tears the last few days and every time, I come up with some radical conclusion. Yesterday, I decided I was going to buy a one way ticket. Today was a vow of silence . Both ways scream that I'm desprite. I'm grabbing at air. And it's then, right then that I feel the worst part of it all. It feels like something snaps. Like I don't know what to do but this isn't it and I can't be here any more but I am. For lack of a better way to say it, I feel like I'm going to jump out of my skin and I can't and I'm trapped and my heads spinning and my breathing gets tighter. It's troubling. It's tormenting. I feel like admitting myself ...
I haven't figured out if I'm staying or leaving. Time will tell. All I know right now is I need a hug. No words. No nothing . Just an embrace so I can break a little and then I don't want to speak of it ever again. Just let me lay in your lap and feel loved for one second. That's all. That's all I want.
I know that's a lot to ask for. I wish love was free.
Sunday, September 2, 2012
Vinager
Sometimes I wonder if I'm crazy. If there's more than the normal few screws loose and if I'm seriously missing something here. I have a feeling that I'm not too out of the ordinary for feeling this way, but after being institutionalized, botching bad suicide attempts and drug addiction, I stumble upon this thought quite frequently. Go figure I guess.
A few weeks back, I decided I would organize the dinning room. Unfortunately, since my mothers passing, this room has just become a clutter haven. It's sad. All the 18th century china is masked behind boxes of Kellogg products and dust and home canning utensils and bottles of vinager and just useless shit that leaves a good third of this house unusable. After getting under 100 some scattered family pictures and a few empty Rice Crispy boxes, my dad came downstairs and asked if I wanted to go golfing with him. He said it was to raise money for a local high school and being that I was already sick of that dirty fucking room, I said yes and went along.
On the ride home, my father remembered that he needed to grab some things for canning and figured wed stop at the store. For some reason or another, over the past couple years, my dad has decided to start up a garden in the back yard. Romaine tomatoes, basil, cucumbers, cherry tomatoes. Just a lot of shit. Including a bush of raspberries. He does all of this, every year, simply to crop it and turn it into salsa or make pickles or jam and store it all. It's a cool hobby; I won't knock it really. It's just really fucking random. Anyway, he had told me that he needed to stop and grab some stuff for the cucumbers and so we did. As we walked up and down the isles, he began to run over the list with me. I figured I'd go get stuff while he was to cut down time.
" Okay, I need garlic, basil ... I need horse radish, vinager, and probably a few green peppers. I'll grab the garlic."
When we got back to the car, I began to fester on this thought of insanity. I took a deep breath and decided to start a conversation with someone who needed it as much as I did.
" So dad, do you ever question your memory at all? Like do you ever have days or moments, like recent, that you just have nothing on? No memory, no nothing?"
" Hm... No. I don't have those problems. Why?"
" I don't know I mean I don't feel like my memory is that bad but sometimes, people will tell me things I did or said or whatever and i'll literally have no clue what their talking about. I'm kind of afraid that Xanax broke my brain."
" Well that's not good. You never know with that stuff. It could probably do that."
It got silent for a second. I was beginning to realize that I wasnt going to get much reassurance out of this conversation and so I paused and thought if I should even bother saying more.
" ... Well , what about grandma? Doesn't that scare you at all?"
" What happened to grandma was a a crazy chance. Same to mom. And me really. Neither one of her or my side of the family had history of cancer and nothing on grandmas side said anything about dementia. As far as biology goes, who knows if anyone of any of us will get that or if you'll get cancer or anything because it wasn't there before."
We got home and brought the groceries in. I went over to the pantry and turned the light on. As I put away some jar lids, I looked over into the dinning room. There, underneath the table lay 5 half used gallons of vinager. I turned the light off and went upstairs.
They say the second you start questioning your own sanity, others will too . Maybe that's why my dad chooses to ignore it. But I can't really. Already in my short 24 years here, I've ran into crazy situations with cops and spitting and jail cels wearing bam bam gowns and suicide wards with What About Bob playing on 24 hour loops next to someone in sleeves covering up the stitches from what the steak knife did and more spitting and acid. Lots of acid. It's been really confusing and every once and a while I land on this notion that maybe, I've lost it. Long ago. That maybe I'm watering down my reality with trying to accept where I'm at and my vices and what I'm working on when, on the outside, I seem way out of control. Like I'm in denial or spiralling down the same path I always have and I just don't see it because I'm proud and arrogant and stubborn or whatever. I can't help but consider that sometimes.
We all walk around in life with some sense of control. Some sense of knowing. And lately, I've felt like I have none. Almost every other day I feel like I'm crashing into something I have no control over and I'm losing hope. I can't control my habits. I can't control my needs. I can't control my bank account or my dogs aging or my god damn heart. I have no say over how many people decide to give up on me or think of me as an issue. I just feel like I've been on auto pilot, watching all this dumb bull shit happen and by the time I catch up with where I'm at, I'm really pissed and lost and wonder why I didn't say this or do that ... And then I'm back to auto pilot. Wash, rinse, repeat. Over and over. It's stupid. And it doesn't make sense and it feels like I'm stopping at the grocery store to pick up vinager when I already have 5 gallons at home.
I hope I'm wrong. Really. With the little hope left in me, I'm using it on my sanity. Maybe someday I'll find strength in this space but right now, my guard is down. Ive been getting hit for too long. I'm defeated. I'm tired. I always feel in the midst of want but can't figure out what. I'm done. With this too, fuck a good ending.
A few weeks back, I decided I would organize the dinning room. Unfortunately, since my mothers passing, this room has just become a clutter haven. It's sad. All the 18th century china is masked behind boxes of Kellogg products and dust and home canning utensils and bottles of vinager and just useless shit that leaves a good third of this house unusable. After getting under 100 some scattered family pictures and a few empty Rice Crispy boxes, my dad came downstairs and asked if I wanted to go golfing with him. He said it was to raise money for a local high school and being that I was already sick of that dirty fucking room, I said yes and went along.
On the ride home, my father remembered that he needed to grab some things for canning and figured wed stop at the store. For some reason or another, over the past couple years, my dad has decided to start up a garden in the back yard. Romaine tomatoes, basil, cucumbers, cherry tomatoes. Just a lot of shit. Including a bush of raspberries. He does all of this, every year, simply to crop it and turn it into salsa or make pickles or jam and store it all. It's a cool hobby; I won't knock it really. It's just really fucking random. Anyway, he had told me that he needed to stop and grab some stuff for the cucumbers and so we did. As we walked up and down the isles, he began to run over the list with me. I figured I'd go get stuff while he was to cut down time.
" Okay, I need garlic, basil ... I need horse radish, vinager, and probably a few green peppers. I'll grab the garlic."
When we got back to the car, I began to fester on this thought of insanity. I took a deep breath and decided to start a conversation with someone who needed it as much as I did.
" So dad, do you ever question your memory at all? Like do you ever have days or moments, like recent, that you just have nothing on? No memory, no nothing?"
" Hm... No. I don't have those problems. Why?"
" I don't know I mean I don't feel like my memory is that bad but sometimes, people will tell me things I did or said or whatever and i'll literally have no clue what their talking about. I'm kind of afraid that Xanax broke my brain."
" Well that's not good. You never know with that stuff. It could probably do that."
It got silent for a second. I was beginning to realize that I wasnt going to get much reassurance out of this conversation and so I paused and thought if I should even bother saying more.
" ... Well , what about grandma? Doesn't that scare you at all?"
" What happened to grandma was a a crazy chance. Same to mom. And me really. Neither one of her or my side of the family had history of cancer and nothing on grandmas side said anything about dementia. As far as biology goes, who knows if anyone of any of us will get that or if you'll get cancer or anything because it wasn't there before."
We got home and brought the groceries in. I went over to the pantry and turned the light on. As I put away some jar lids, I looked over into the dinning room. There, underneath the table lay 5 half used gallons of vinager. I turned the light off and went upstairs.
They say the second you start questioning your own sanity, others will too . Maybe that's why my dad chooses to ignore it. But I can't really. Already in my short 24 years here, I've ran into crazy situations with cops and spitting and jail cels wearing bam bam gowns and suicide wards with What About Bob playing on 24 hour loops next to someone in sleeves covering up the stitches from what the steak knife did and more spitting and acid. Lots of acid. It's been really confusing and every once and a while I land on this notion that maybe, I've lost it. Long ago. That maybe I'm watering down my reality with trying to accept where I'm at and my vices and what I'm working on when, on the outside, I seem way out of control. Like I'm in denial or spiralling down the same path I always have and I just don't see it because I'm proud and arrogant and stubborn or whatever. I can't help but consider that sometimes.
We all walk around in life with some sense of control. Some sense of knowing. And lately, I've felt like I have none. Almost every other day I feel like I'm crashing into something I have no control over and I'm losing hope. I can't control my habits. I can't control my needs. I can't control my bank account or my dogs aging or my god damn heart. I have no say over how many people decide to give up on me or think of me as an issue. I just feel like I've been on auto pilot, watching all this dumb bull shit happen and by the time I catch up with where I'm at, I'm really pissed and lost and wonder why I didn't say this or do that ... And then I'm back to auto pilot. Wash, rinse, repeat. Over and over. It's stupid. And it doesn't make sense and it feels like I'm stopping at the grocery store to pick up vinager when I already have 5 gallons at home.
I hope I'm wrong. Really. With the little hope left in me, I'm using it on my sanity. Maybe someday I'll find strength in this space but right now, my guard is down. Ive been getting hit for too long. I'm defeated. I'm tired. I always feel in the midst of want but can't figure out what. I'm done. With this too, fuck a good ending.
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
Past the little thicket
A friend and I were walking our dogs on an Indian reservation. We would visit this place about twice a week and walk the trails, letting our dogs free to romp through chest high grass and wrestle. Its sort of rare to find places where we could do that; letting a pit off their leash anywhere usually invokes a crazy response from folks. And I get it. I do. But breed or not, dogs need to be dogs so as an owner, I cherished those moments where they could both run without restrictions. Without pulling on me or giving me thirsty looks for freedom and just exhaust all the doggy energy they want.
The day seemed like any other day. Just another excursion. Just another late afternoon walk two or three miles deep in the woods. We were far enough in so we agreed to let the dogs go, trusting that they would stay within calling distance as they always had and continued on the path with our conversation. The specifics aren't important.
Weaving our way through nature, we passed a downed tree split over our trail. As we ducked underneath it, my friends dog ran back to his side. I looked around and thought that maybe my dog had just gone down to the creek for water, as she tended to like to do. Or maybe she was sniffing around or taking a shit or something else dog-like. However, it was odd to have one and not the other. I began to call out for her.
"Yee Yee! Yee! Merc! "
Nothing. No brush moving. No pattering of paws coming from behind us. No yells from other hikers or anything. Just nothing and at that moment, miles deep in the woods with an hour or so left of sun light, my heart dropped out of my chest. I felt it. My hands began to sweat and tears built up in my eyes. I felt myself nearly paralyze in an uncomfortable abandonment of security. Intoxicating helplessness. Fear. Of what the fuck, what do I do? Do I retrace my steps hoping she just stayed in one spot? Do we split up and try to cover more ground or do we stay together? Do I prepare for a spur of the moment night of camping?
What exactly is the smartest approach to losing something so important?
I had nothing but in the heat of that moment, I decided that I couldn't just lose my dog. That wasn't an acceptable option. Frantically, I began running back where we came from and yelling for her. I figured she would hear that at least. She had to. She had bat ears; she'll hear anything, and especially if its my voice. This had to work. She couldn't have gotten too far.
Sure enough, she had. After about an hour of back tracking and asking bikers and families if they had seen a pit bull with a spiked collar on, we had nothing but a few disgruntled fathers looking down at us and some pissy bikers. All of them said the same thing,
"Yeah, she came up to us about 200 yards back. We didn't touch her and I kind of hurried past her but she was up there."
" Go back up that hill and take a right, she was there last I saw."
Or simply
"Nope, I haven't seen anything."
I was beginning to feel like I knew something that I didn't want to. I was defeated and dreading having to even get near accepting that I had just lost my best friend somewhere between US 131 and Texas Drive. I didn't want to think about all the morbid possibilities of that. As the sun began to set, I dragged my feet back to the parking area. This sucked. I didn't know how I'd allow myself to get in a car and drive away from that area. I couldn't do it.
I asked everyone I came in contact with if they had seen her and no one could help me more than the last. All dead ends. We made it back to the car and my friend looked at me and said,
" Well man, Mercedes is a strong dog. She'll be fine for the night probably and you can come back in the morning and look. Or maybe she'll get turned in. You never know."
I knew he was just trying to be positive and realistic but as I looked at the busy road next to me, I couldn't help but freak the fuck out.
"Merc! Mercedes!Come here girl ... Mer-ce-des!"
I paced back and fourth screaming like those were my last words. I had nothing left. This was it. Then a man came out of the woods to my left from next to the boy scout cabin.
" Did you lose a dog?"
" Oh my lord, yes! Yes I did why!?"
I began to follow him through a little thicket of trees and peered around a fence. There, leashed up to a post in a front yard, sitting like a present on Christmas was my dog. Unharmed, panting, with a bowl of water in front of her. The man explained to me that he was doing yard work out front when he saw a little black dog trotting through the parking lot. After seeing a few families cower away from her, he noticed her breed, realizing she was a pit. Thankfully, his son had two american pits in the garage so he knew pits. He knew their stigma. He knew she was scared but knew she was inherently amazing and decided step up to help her out. Finally, he was able to coax her back to his yard with a treat and get her taken care of. We did quite a lot of small talk but really, all I kept saying to him was,
" Thank god for you sir. You're my hero for the day."
Smiling with tears in my eyes, I shook his hand and thanked him for all of his help. We put my leash back on her, walked back to the car and happily went the fuck home.
That night I thought about how much I admire a dogs mentality. How much I envy their ability to just know. See, when she got separated from our pack, she had one of two choices. She could have A. Tried to track us down or B. Found her way back to where we started. Both are risky and would involve a lot of nose action but ultimately, she had to choose. And unlike a human who could take hours to choose what to eat or what to wear or what to smell like, she went from lost to found in a matter of seconds. She put her nose down, put her feet to work and knew that she had to get back to where we began and find help. She didn't question it or look back. She just knew it was smart. It would work. Someone would be there.
I feel like this is something I need to get better at doing. There is definitely something to be said about that type of intuition and complete trust in help. So often when I get lost or derailed or separated from everything I believe at the moment, I freeze up. I get stuck in fear and a need for comfort and try to retrace all my steps to get back to what I think I need. At the same time, rejecting any and all help. I rarely just go for what feels right. And then I find myself more lost. I end up sleeping in forests made of insecure nightmares and wake up not knowing if I even like myself any more. It's something I need to work on...
I know where I'm at right now is where I am meant to be. I know this. But being here sucks. Some days I want to run as far away from you as I can. Others I find myself wanting to retrace my steps back into your heart. I know neither can work. And so I'm trying to get back on my path. I'm trying to pick my head up and get over and back to feeling okay about me. I promise, I am.
But if you ever end up looking back where we started, or thinking about going back there some day, I'll be there. Leashed up next to the memory of your touch. Waiting. Hoping that one day, you'll wander back and notice that I still exist.
I miss you.
The day seemed like any other day. Just another excursion. Just another late afternoon walk two or three miles deep in the woods. We were far enough in so we agreed to let the dogs go, trusting that they would stay within calling distance as they always had and continued on the path with our conversation. The specifics aren't important.
Weaving our way through nature, we passed a downed tree split over our trail. As we ducked underneath it, my friends dog ran back to his side. I looked around and thought that maybe my dog had just gone down to the creek for water, as she tended to like to do. Or maybe she was sniffing around or taking a shit or something else dog-like. However, it was odd to have one and not the other. I began to call out for her.
"Yee Yee! Yee! Merc! "
Nothing. No brush moving. No pattering of paws coming from behind us. No yells from other hikers or anything. Just nothing and at that moment, miles deep in the woods with an hour or so left of sun light, my heart dropped out of my chest. I felt it. My hands began to sweat and tears built up in my eyes. I felt myself nearly paralyze in an uncomfortable abandonment of security. Intoxicating helplessness. Fear. Of what the fuck, what do I do? Do I retrace my steps hoping she just stayed in one spot? Do we split up and try to cover more ground or do we stay together? Do I prepare for a spur of the moment night of camping?
What exactly is the smartest approach to losing something so important?
I had nothing but in the heat of that moment, I decided that I couldn't just lose my dog. That wasn't an acceptable option. Frantically, I began running back where we came from and yelling for her. I figured she would hear that at least. She had to. She had bat ears; she'll hear anything, and especially if its my voice. This had to work. She couldn't have gotten too far.
Sure enough, she had. After about an hour of back tracking and asking bikers and families if they had seen a pit bull with a spiked collar on, we had nothing but a few disgruntled fathers looking down at us and some pissy bikers. All of them said the same thing,
"Yeah, she came up to us about 200 yards back. We didn't touch her and I kind of hurried past her but she was up there."
" Go back up that hill and take a right, she was there last I saw."
Or simply
"Nope, I haven't seen anything."
I was beginning to feel like I knew something that I didn't want to. I was defeated and dreading having to even get near accepting that I had just lost my best friend somewhere between US 131 and Texas Drive. I didn't want to think about all the morbid possibilities of that. As the sun began to set, I dragged my feet back to the parking area. This sucked. I didn't know how I'd allow myself to get in a car and drive away from that area. I couldn't do it.
I asked everyone I came in contact with if they had seen her and no one could help me more than the last. All dead ends. We made it back to the car and my friend looked at me and said,
" Well man, Mercedes is a strong dog. She'll be fine for the night probably and you can come back in the morning and look. Or maybe she'll get turned in. You never know."
I knew he was just trying to be positive and realistic but as I looked at the busy road next to me, I couldn't help but freak the fuck out.
"Merc! Mercedes!Come here girl ... Mer-ce-des!"
I paced back and fourth screaming like those were my last words. I had nothing left. This was it. Then a man came out of the woods to my left from next to the boy scout cabin.
" Did you lose a dog?"
" Oh my lord, yes! Yes I did why!?"
I began to follow him through a little thicket of trees and peered around a fence. There, leashed up to a post in a front yard, sitting like a present on Christmas was my dog. Unharmed, panting, with a bowl of water in front of her. The man explained to me that he was doing yard work out front when he saw a little black dog trotting through the parking lot. After seeing a few families cower away from her, he noticed her breed, realizing she was a pit. Thankfully, his son had two american pits in the garage so he knew pits. He knew their stigma. He knew she was scared but knew she was inherently amazing and decided step up to help her out. Finally, he was able to coax her back to his yard with a treat and get her taken care of. We did quite a lot of small talk but really, all I kept saying to him was,
" Thank god for you sir. You're my hero for the day."
Smiling with tears in my eyes, I shook his hand and thanked him for all of his help. We put my leash back on her, walked back to the car and happily went the fuck home.
That night I thought about how much I admire a dogs mentality. How much I envy their ability to just know. See, when she got separated from our pack, she had one of two choices. She could have A. Tried to track us down or B. Found her way back to where we started. Both are risky and would involve a lot of nose action but ultimately, she had to choose. And unlike a human who could take hours to choose what to eat or what to wear or what to smell like, she went from lost to found in a matter of seconds. She put her nose down, put her feet to work and knew that she had to get back to where we began and find help. She didn't question it or look back. She just knew it was smart. It would work. Someone would be there.
I feel like this is something I need to get better at doing. There is definitely something to be said about that type of intuition and complete trust in help. So often when I get lost or derailed or separated from everything I believe at the moment, I freeze up. I get stuck in fear and a need for comfort and try to retrace all my steps to get back to what I think I need. At the same time, rejecting any and all help. I rarely just go for what feels right. And then I find myself more lost. I end up sleeping in forests made of insecure nightmares and wake up not knowing if I even like myself any more. It's something I need to work on...
I know where I'm at right now is where I am meant to be. I know this. But being here sucks. Some days I want to run as far away from you as I can. Others I find myself wanting to retrace my steps back into your heart. I know neither can work. And so I'm trying to get back on my path. I'm trying to pick my head up and get over and back to feeling okay about me. I promise, I am.
But if you ever end up looking back where we started, or thinking about going back there some day, I'll be there. Leashed up next to the memory of your touch. Waiting. Hoping that one day, you'll wander back and notice that I still exist.
I miss you.
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
Complex Simplicity
I saw two birds chase each other into a tree today. As my eyes focused in, I realized that this tree was very complex. This tree had always been a tree. It had always stood, in one shape or another. Maybe as a shred of grass at one point. Maybe as an awkward stand alone bush. Maybe a manicured project. In the literal sense, everything we would think of a tree being, it was. And as I looked at this tree, and saw everything it was made of, I couldn't help but notice it's leaves. The beauty in its ability to stretch limb into leave as a perfect dome hovering a sturdy trunk. Its complexity.
Its simplicity.
See this tree has been passed by. Looked at from a distance. Watered by nature and people and basically blended in with every other tree around it. Unnoticeable. Normal. Nothing about its form or its look would make it stand out or look different. But for the first time, I stood by this tree and saw it in its simplicity and its complexity and honored it. Its journey and its creation. Its trunk. Its leaves. Its bark that grew over older bark to build a foundation for it to branch beauty into our lives.
Its a beautiful process how it became what it is. How it turned a seed no bigger than the tip of my thumb nail into a majestic tree I can't even wrap my arms around. That simple over looked change is considered to be normal. Considered to be natural and understood. But what we look past is the obstacles it over came to get where it is. Someone didn't mow that shred of grass. Someone decided to water that bush or let the rain flourish this seedling into an unmovable mass that will continue to grow on long after we have walked past it.
I felt privileged. I felt humbled.
And then I thought of my body. Of the complex simplicity of it all. How I began as something no bigger than the size of a conversation and grew into a mass that I dont let many people close enough to put their arms around. How I've been walked on and walked past and given up on but yet, my body still breathes. My heart still pumps blood into my veins and produces new skin cells to grow over the old ones. On a molecular level, my body is a powerhouse of building. And renewing. And changing and so is yours. But this process, this growing and shedding is often looked past because we have understood it. Or at least tried to. We wake up and see the same face and think nothing of it. Thats my face. We walk on the same feet and feel normal and complacent with that. It's just walking. It doesn't feel like new or beautiful sometimes. It doesn't feel magical or microscopic sometimes because most of the time, we're too focused on changing everything in our environment to actually sit back and revel in the beauty of whats changing effortlessly inside us. Around us. Our feet wouldn't be feet if our bodies weren't producing foot cells. And those cells wouldn't be cells if our bodies didn't pump blood and oxygen to them. And our hearts wouldn't pump blood if our heart didn't have heart cells. And those cells wouldn't be cells...
It goes on. Forever. And its beautiful. Not just because its broken down and acknowledged as phenomenon but because when we don't think about it, when we don't even put thought to any bit of anything,
we change. And we change without pain. Without being asked and without having to initiate it; it just happpens.
And then I ask myself if that tree ever thought it would have to seek out water. If it ever thought it needed to dodge lawn mowers and loggers just to survive. Or if it simply did and became what it is because the obstacles thrown at it were meant for it. It was meant to grow. It was meant to have birds fly into it, nest in it, flutter around and knock some of its leaves loose and leave without saying good bye. And tomorrow, it will still stand,
same as it did today.
I guess this is why trying to change is so hard. Our nature is to change without trying. Without thinking about the processes and the outcomes; it just happens. But we have a conscious. And with that conscious comes an inherently dissatisfied reality. We are always looking for better cars. Better jobs. Better living conditions. Better people. Better relationships. Different everything. We are always looking for ways to change things unnaturally and against the grain and thrust things into a state of control that we weren't meant to have when really, change will happen. Whether you want it or not.
So if you leave me today, if you give up on me and wish me the best because my project is too much for you... well, you're right. My project is too much for me sometimes. But I am constantly changing. I am constantly experiencing and digesting and working on myself so that tomorrow, I can stand bigger and stronger and blend in with the other trees around me. And if you decide to fly into my life, ruffle up a few leaves and disappear without giving me a fair chance than I will thank you.
Thank you for being a part of who I am. For leaving your nest inside my branches so that tomorrow, I can look at it and smile because once upon a time, you laid your head here. You rested everything that you are on me and left me with the memory of your laugh. Of your green ringed iris in the sun light. Of the way you move to your own rhythm. Of the way you kissed me. Gently enough to put me to sleep but with enough passion to keep me twitterpated. You taught me what that word really means... You taught me a lot actually.
Even though I just Google'd ' what to do when someone can't love you', I wont cry because I lost you. Okay, maybe a little bit. For a couple days or so. Or a week. But after this shitty phase, I'll smile because I met you. You'll always be the ball of energy I'd want next to me.
I'm sorry I'm like this.
Its simplicity.
See this tree has been passed by. Looked at from a distance. Watered by nature and people and basically blended in with every other tree around it. Unnoticeable. Normal. Nothing about its form or its look would make it stand out or look different. But for the first time, I stood by this tree and saw it in its simplicity and its complexity and honored it. Its journey and its creation. Its trunk. Its leaves. Its bark that grew over older bark to build a foundation for it to branch beauty into our lives.
Its a beautiful process how it became what it is. How it turned a seed no bigger than the tip of my thumb nail into a majestic tree I can't even wrap my arms around. That simple over looked change is considered to be normal. Considered to be natural and understood. But what we look past is the obstacles it over came to get where it is. Someone didn't mow that shred of grass. Someone decided to water that bush or let the rain flourish this seedling into an unmovable mass that will continue to grow on long after we have walked past it.
I felt privileged. I felt humbled.
And then I thought of my body. Of the complex simplicity of it all. How I began as something no bigger than the size of a conversation and grew into a mass that I dont let many people close enough to put their arms around. How I've been walked on and walked past and given up on but yet, my body still breathes. My heart still pumps blood into my veins and produces new skin cells to grow over the old ones. On a molecular level, my body is a powerhouse of building. And renewing. And changing and so is yours. But this process, this growing and shedding is often looked past because we have understood it. Or at least tried to. We wake up and see the same face and think nothing of it. Thats my face. We walk on the same feet and feel normal and complacent with that. It's just walking. It doesn't feel like new or beautiful sometimes. It doesn't feel magical or microscopic sometimes because most of the time, we're too focused on changing everything in our environment to actually sit back and revel in the beauty of whats changing effortlessly inside us. Around us. Our feet wouldn't be feet if our bodies weren't producing foot cells. And those cells wouldn't be cells if our bodies didn't pump blood and oxygen to them. And our hearts wouldn't pump blood if our heart didn't have heart cells. And those cells wouldn't be cells...
It goes on. Forever. And its beautiful. Not just because its broken down and acknowledged as phenomenon but because when we don't think about it, when we don't even put thought to any bit of anything,
we change. And we change without pain. Without being asked and without having to initiate it; it just happpens.
And then I ask myself if that tree ever thought it would have to seek out water. If it ever thought it needed to dodge lawn mowers and loggers just to survive. Or if it simply did and became what it is because the obstacles thrown at it were meant for it. It was meant to grow. It was meant to have birds fly into it, nest in it, flutter around and knock some of its leaves loose and leave without saying good bye. And tomorrow, it will still stand,
same as it did today.
I guess this is why trying to change is so hard. Our nature is to change without trying. Without thinking about the processes and the outcomes; it just happens. But we have a conscious. And with that conscious comes an inherently dissatisfied reality. We are always looking for better cars. Better jobs. Better living conditions. Better people. Better relationships. Different everything. We are always looking for ways to change things unnaturally and against the grain and thrust things into a state of control that we weren't meant to have when really, change will happen. Whether you want it or not.
So if you leave me today, if you give up on me and wish me the best because my project is too much for you... well, you're right. My project is too much for me sometimes. But I am constantly changing. I am constantly experiencing and digesting and working on myself so that tomorrow, I can stand bigger and stronger and blend in with the other trees around me. And if you decide to fly into my life, ruffle up a few leaves and disappear without giving me a fair chance than I will thank you.
Thank you for being a part of who I am. For leaving your nest inside my branches so that tomorrow, I can look at it and smile because once upon a time, you laid your head here. You rested everything that you are on me and left me with the memory of your laugh. Of your green ringed iris in the sun light. Of the way you move to your own rhythm. Of the way you kissed me. Gently enough to put me to sleep but with enough passion to keep me twitterpated. You taught me what that word really means... You taught me a lot actually.
Even though I just Google'd ' what to do when someone can't love you', I wont cry because I lost you. Okay, maybe a little bit. For a couple days or so. Or a week. But after this shitty phase, I'll smile because I met you. You'll always be the ball of energy I'd want next to me.
I'm sorry I'm like this.
Monday, July 30, 2012
Conversations with a Star
" ... Just imagine for a second that we don't have our physical self. Like take away our bodies and our everything and leave whats left."
"Okay."
"K, so essentially all we are from there is just energy right? We have electrical current running through us at all times. We have a mass that leaves our bodies when we die that we can't explain. 8 ounces. Basically, we have a soul okay. So take away the physical and look at just the basic nature of what life really is. Its you, and you're just one ball of energy. And you're here, right? And you're with me, another ball of energy, and we're just sitting together being little balls of energy. And then we move like pong, just back and forth. From point a to point b and back and then we rest and then move to point c and then point a and back."
"Right, and then we meet up with other little balls of energy and hang out and be around them. And then there's concerts and festivals where 300 thousand balls of energy all move up and down to the same beat. Synchronized. And its understood."
"Its beautiful. And its all just gravity. Simple gravity. If planets and stars have gravity because of mass, then even the smallest atom has some gravity right? A proton attracts a neutron and some electrons. You attract me. Our planet keeps the moon within reach. Its all gravity..."
" Right, there's a flow to it all. And we all attract and repel on basic levels...
I like you. I'm glad I found your ball of energy."
"Me too."
"Okay."
"K, so essentially all we are from there is just energy right? We have electrical current running through us at all times. We have a mass that leaves our bodies when we die that we can't explain. 8 ounces. Basically, we have a soul okay. So take away the physical and look at just the basic nature of what life really is. Its you, and you're just one ball of energy. And you're here, right? And you're with me, another ball of energy, and we're just sitting together being little balls of energy. And then we move like pong, just back and forth. From point a to point b and back and then we rest and then move to point c and then point a and back."
"Right, and then we meet up with other little balls of energy and hang out and be around them. And then there's concerts and festivals where 300 thousand balls of energy all move up and down to the same beat. Synchronized. And its understood."
"Its beautiful. And its all just gravity. Simple gravity. If planets and stars have gravity because of mass, then even the smallest atom has some gravity right? A proton attracts a neutron and some electrons. You attract me. Our planet keeps the moon within reach. Its all gravity..."
" Right, there's a flow to it all. And we all attract and repel on basic levels...
I like you. I'm glad I found your ball of energy."
"Me too."
Saturday, July 21, 2012
Ninjas plagiarize and fuck you
You are all accused; the defendants will rise.
The speaker can only talk to you if you are standing.
So listen as you would to a moth
to a stop light
to a sunset
to a tragedy in a theater.
Listen.
I stand her accusing you of miss fired life and iron sighted goals. This isn't the time for that.
Are you seated now? Good, that way you'll listen more carefully.
WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE, like canned fruit and testy cats
you are serious aren't you?
We are serious.
Death is a serious thing huh?
You can die as a hero, or as an idiot
which leaves little to really know.
or matter.
Death, death, death.
I have seen bank statements determine deep end happiness,
and keep breathing.
It lives in you.
In me.
It drives my car and floats.
Keeps us divided behind student loans and
status quo
status symbols and
death.
It is God.
It is what is respected, the serious individual- money respects families.
So praise the dollar with open hands like
thirsty dogs
you whores with ambitions
you ass holes.
Don't give up you're almost horrible.
Keep thriving for dirt and hoping for
empty cups because like french fries
you serious people
you will smell worse than horse shit.
And this smells like shit.
Its like your perception: shit
like your happiness: shit
like your politicians: shit
like your heroes: shit
like your artists
your religions
shit
So fuck with me. Kick my teeth into my judgement
12 piece
and then,
and then?
I will tell you again that you are all suckers. In three months my friends and I will be selling you our paintings for hundreds.
The speaker can only talk to you if you are standing.
So listen as you would to a moth
to a stop light
to a sunset
to a tragedy in a theater.
Listen.
I stand her accusing you of miss fired life and iron sighted goals. This isn't the time for that.
Are you seated now? Good, that way you'll listen more carefully.
WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE, like canned fruit and testy cats
you are serious aren't you?
We are serious.
Death is a serious thing huh?
You can die as a hero, or as an idiot
which leaves little to really know.
or matter.
Death, death, death.
I have seen bank statements determine deep end happiness,
and keep breathing.
It lives in you.
In me.
It drives my car and floats.
Keeps us divided behind student loans and
status quo
status symbols and
death.
It is God.
It is what is respected, the serious individual- money respects families.
So praise the dollar with open hands like
thirsty dogs
you whores with ambitions
you ass holes.
Don't give up you're almost horrible.
Keep thriving for dirt and hoping for
empty cups because like french fries
you serious people
you will smell worse than horse shit.
And this smells like shit.
Its like your perception: shit
like your happiness: shit
like your politicians: shit
like your heroes: shit
like your artists
your religions
shit
So fuck with me. Kick my teeth into my judgement
12 piece
and then,
and then?
I will tell you again that you are all suckers. In three months my friends and I will be selling you our paintings for hundreds.
Monday, June 25, 2012
on a couch with a cat and some whiskey
Sometimes we stumble upon those people who somehow make us believe again. Who inject our hearts with beat again and bring our chins up from the floor. Sometimes we're too blind to see it. Sometimes its right in front of us. But if you're fortunate enough to bring one of these beacons of hope into your life, to open your eyes and your heart and actually believe that you can believe again in whatever it is, you'll understand how beautifully scary believing can be.
Last night I met a girl. It wasn't planned. It wasn't expected. However, when I showed up over at my friends house and saw she was there, I felt something amazing happen inside that I haven't felt in years: a connection. An honest to god, legitimate connection that wasn't forced and wasn't settled and was everything that I remember it being. It was organic. It was smiles. It was walks under the moon light with sloppy mixed drinks on playgrounds at 3 am. It was beautiful.
Somewhere along the walk back though, I felt a familiar feeling arise. It was guarded and comfortable and everything that I'm used to. See, she was telling me about her sign and how Pisces sometimes have ESP. So I asked what any other romantic looking for a way to kiss someone would,
"So how's your ESP then?"
"Great," she said promptly with a smile.
This was my chance so I smirked at her skeptically and said,
"Yeah? Well now I have to test that obviously."
"Okay, try me" she said.
"What have I been thinking all night then?" Her pace got a little quicker and she broke eye contact and said,
"That you want to fuck me."
I laughed and denied it. For once in guy history, I was actually thinking way more innocently then what was expected I guess and thats when I felt it. That familiar guarded feeling. The feeling that maybe we aren't on the same page. That we just couldn't be on the same page. That no one in their right mind would be on the page I'm on anyway.
Our strides separated and everything went silent till we got back to the house. I sat outside smoking a cigarette hoping that this wasn't how I was coming off. I was hoping I didn't seem that way so much that I contemplated just leaving. I went inside and decided it was time to call it a night and go home. It's probably for the best.
"Well, I think I'm gonna head home."
"Aw, you dont have to. You can stay here."
"I could yeah, but I got air conditioning at home and I'm getting tired anyway so..." I was just finding every excuse to leave.
" You sure? We dont have to sit out here if you don't want to, we can go talk in my room."
So of course, I followed her back to the room she was staying in and sat down with some whiskey and a cat and picked up our conversation where it left off on the swing sets. Then the feeling came back. It was telling me to run. Fast. Just go. I got up off the couch and started collecting my gear. My cell phone, my wallet, my sun glasses, my shoes. I just about had everything in my pockets and ready to go and then she looked up at me and said in the cutest voice ever,
"We can cuddle if you want?"
I think at that moment a choir of angels started singing hallelujahs and giving me high fives in my head. Sort of in shock, I dropped all of my stuff and jumped back on the couch. This is all I wanted. Usually, this is all I ever want in general. I just want someone to hold close, to run my fingers through their hair, to tell them all the things I love about them softly in their ear... and to not feel like I'm all alone in this life. Thats it.
She turned towards me and wrapped her arms underneath mine. We started talking about how good this felt. How much we missed this.
"Guys usually don't approach me. Usually their too scared or something."
I looked at her with a smile and said,
"Well, you know, had you not asked me to cuddle I probably would have just gone home. To be quite honest, I've been intimidated by you all night." She responded and started talking about something but I can't remember what. I was just staring at her lips the whole time. It got quiet and I started laughing a little.
"Have you ever been talking to someone and you're trying your hardest to listen but all you can do is just see their lips?"
"Yeah, I used to do that with my Grandma."
"Thats what I've doing all night." She smiled and got closer. Our noses touched and finally, I went in for one of the most amazing kisses in the history of kisses. It was like kissing a cloud filled with jelly beans. Or something delicious like that. Basically it was awesome and for the first time in years, I could feel my heart beat. For the first time in years, I felt like maybe
I'm wanted.
As I caressed her ear and ran my fingers through her hair, I began to open up a little to her. I told her how much I missed all of this. How right this felt. And then I told her how long its been since I've kissed someone.
"Really? Whys that? I'd picture you pulling a lot of girls."
" I dont know. It's not that I'm not confident, its just that I don't... really feel I'm special. Or that anybody could be attracted to me I guess."
She kissed me and told me she understood. For the rest of the night, we laid in each others arms as I caressed her side and the scar on her neck. It was amazing.
On the way home, I began to feel like I missed out on something. I was smiling from ear to ear so I didn't understand why but somewhere deep down, I felt like I was never going to find something like that again. Then I caught myself in mid thought thinking that tonight only happened because she was drunk. That if she was sober, she would have never been into me at all. I thought back to when we were hanging out and remembered myself refilling her drinks a lot. Yeah, because we were all drinking but I was handing her drinks because I didn't feel like I would have a chance to get close to her if she wasn't drunk. That's not okay for a lot of reasons. See some guys do that to get laid but I... I was doing it to feel like someone could actually like me for a few hours.
As far as I've come this year, I'm still having issues with my self worth. Apparently, I dont feel worthy of most good things in life and most of the time, I want to just run away from them. I want to pack up all of my gear as quickly as possible, make up stupid excuses about air conditioning and run. But thats not right. See, I might never see this girl again. Today she left back to Ann Arbor where she has her life. Where she has her nursing program and her kid and her job and her family. But last night she was with me. In my arms. And I deserved that. I'm a good guy with a genuine heart and if she can find something likable in me,
I should be able to too.
To the ones out there who help people believe that they can believe again, in whatever it is, thank you. I am extremely grateful for the universe tossing someone so beautiful into my life, even if it was just on some random June night at 3 am on a couch with a cat and some whiskey. Just that was enough for me to believe that I
can love again.
Last night I met a girl. It wasn't planned. It wasn't expected. However, when I showed up over at my friends house and saw she was there, I felt something amazing happen inside that I haven't felt in years: a connection. An honest to god, legitimate connection that wasn't forced and wasn't settled and was everything that I remember it being. It was organic. It was smiles. It was walks under the moon light with sloppy mixed drinks on playgrounds at 3 am. It was beautiful.
Somewhere along the walk back though, I felt a familiar feeling arise. It was guarded and comfortable and everything that I'm used to. See, she was telling me about her sign and how Pisces sometimes have ESP. So I asked what any other romantic looking for a way to kiss someone would,
"So how's your ESP then?"
"Great," she said promptly with a smile.
This was my chance so I smirked at her skeptically and said,
"Yeah? Well now I have to test that obviously."
"Okay, try me" she said.
"What have I been thinking all night then?" Her pace got a little quicker and she broke eye contact and said,
"That you want to fuck me."
I laughed and denied it. For once in guy history, I was actually thinking way more innocently then what was expected I guess and thats when I felt it. That familiar guarded feeling. The feeling that maybe we aren't on the same page. That we just couldn't be on the same page. That no one in their right mind would be on the page I'm on anyway.
Our strides separated and everything went silent till we got back to the house. I sat outside smoking a cigarette hoping that this wasn't how I was coming off. I was hoping I didn't seem that way so much that I contemplated just leaving. I went inside and decided it was time to call it a night and go home. It's probably for the best.
"Well, I think I'm gonna head home."
"Aw, you dont have to. You can stay here."
"I could yeah, but I got air conditioning at home and I'm getting tired anyway so..." I was just finding every excuse to leave.
" You sure? We dont have to sit out here if you don't want to, we can go talk in my room."
So of course, I followed her back to the room she was staying in and sat down with some whiskey and a cat and picked up our conversation where it left off on the swing sets. Then the feeling came back. It was telling me to run. Fast. Just go. I got up off the couch and started collecting my gear. My cell phone, my wallet, my sun glasses, my shoes. I just about had everything in my pockets and ready to go and then she looked up at me and said in the cutest voice ever,
"We can cuddle if you want?"
I think at that moment a choir of angels started singing hallelujahs and giving me high fives in my head. Sort of in shock, I dropped all of my stuff and jumped back on the couch. This is all I wanted. Usually, this is all I ever want in general. I just want someone to hold close, to run my fingers through their hair, to tell them all the things I love about them softly in their ear... and to not feel like I'm all alone in this life. Thats it.
She turned towards me and wrapped her arms underneath mine. We started talking about how good this felt. How much we missed this.
"Guys usually don't approach me. Usually their too scared or something."
I looked at her with a smile and said,
"Well, you know, had you not asked me to cuddle I probably would have just gone home. To be quite honest, I've been intimidated by you all night." She responded and started talking about something but I can't remember what. I was just staring at her lips the whole time. It got quiet and I started laughing a little.
"Have you ever been talking to someone and you're trying your hardest to listen but all you can do is just see their lips?"
"Yeah, I used to do that with my Grandma."
"Thats what I've doing all night." She smiled and got closer. Our noses touched and finally, I went in for one of the most amazing kisses in the history of kisses. It was like kissing a cloud filled with jelly beans. Or something delicious like that. Basically it was awesome and for the first time in years, I could feel my heart beat. For the first time in years, I felt like maybe
I'm wanted.
As I caressed her ear and ran my fingers through her hair, I began to open up a little to her. I told her how much I missed all of this. How right this felt. And then I told her how long its been since I've kissed someone.
"Really? Whys that? I'd picture you pulling a lot of girls."
" I dont know. It's not that I'm not confident, its just that I don't... really feel I'm special. Or that anybody could be attracted to me I guess."
She kissed me and told me she understood. For the rest of the night, we laid in each others arms as I caressed her side and the scar on her neck. It was amazing.
On the way home, I began to feel like I missed out on something. I was smiling from ear to ear so I didn't understand why but somewhere deep down, I felt like I was never going to find something like that again. Then I caught myself in mid thought thinking that tonight only happened because she was drunk. That if she was sober, she would have never been into me at all. I thought back to when we were hanging out and remembered myself refilling her drinks a lot. Yeah, because we were all drinking but I was handing her drinks because I didn't feel like I would have a chance to get close to her if she wasn't drunk. That's not okay for a lot of reasons. See some guys do that to get laid but I... I was doing it to feel like someone could actually like me for a few hours.
As far as I've come this year, I'm still having issues with my self worth. Apparently, I dont feel worthy of most good things in life and most of the time, I want to just run away from them. I want to pack up all of my gear as quickly as possible, make up stupid excuses about air conditioning and run. But thats not right. See, I might never see this girl again. Today she left back to Ann Arbor where she has her life. Where she has her nursing program and her kid and her job and her family. But last night she was with me. In my arms. And I deserved that. I'm a good guy with a genuine heart and if she can find something likable in me,
I should be able to too.
To the ones out there who help people believe that they can believe again, in whatever it is, thank you. I am extremely grateful for the universe tossing someone so beautiful into my life, even if it was just on some random June night at 3 am on a couch with a cat and some whiskey. Just that was enough for me to believe that I
can love again.
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
how to tan positively
This year has been a god send so far. So far. I say this because the past few years of my life have been horribly difficult and finally, I have decided to give myself a break. I finally decided to step up and out of that dark introspective, self critical stage of my life and accept the things I can not change. Mainly my past. See, for most of my life I've sat behind screens and pages of writing worrying about my past like it was still malleable. Like maybe if I just apologize and obsess about the things I've done, that maybe everything would right itself. I'm not sure where I got that notion from or where all the guilt originated from but let me tell you, I couldn't have been more wrong.
Things that have happened, have happened. I'm sure this isn't news to most people but for me, this was world changing to digest and understand. For me, my life has been a constant cyclical motion, a drying machine of guilt from one thing or another. Then I would repress it, ignore it and move on until someday, some where along the road, I'd stumble across a reminder of all the shitty things I've done in my life. Maybe in the form of a forgotten friendship. Maybe in the midst of an argument. Maybe in a number of other ways but whatever form that reminder came in, usually and for the most part, would consume my conscious with overwhelming guilt ...and then self hatred... and then a need for pity... and then a need to repress everything again and from there, I would totally lose myself. However, this year I made a conscious decision to just accept shit. Literally, accept all the nasty, horrible, terrifying shit I've produced in my life and get over it. There's no real use in perpetuating that cycle or attempting to perfect the cycle. All that was left was to break it and that's what I did. Unfortunately though, every high comes with a new low. Always. There's never always blue skies. There's never always 76 degree weather, no humidity and open pools. Fuck, some days, we can't even see the sun. But those are the times when you are meant to just relax and be mindful of all the blessings you have in your life. Because there's no real use in worrying about the clouds or the rain or the storms because eventually, the sun will come out and everything will be how its supposed to be. Even on cloudy days, you can still get a tan right? See, there's always a positive to find... so find it. It might be hiding. It might be behind a bunch of personal issues and deadlines and stresses but if you forget about all that nonsense for one second and focus on something positive, like how your family hasn't given up on you. Like how your dog is still as awesome as she ever was. Like how your car still works fine and you have food in your pantry and you have friends who love you. If you can just take a step back and find the silver lining in the clouds for one second, I promise that you will find a high in every low. I Promise.
I can't really tell you how many times I've had someone notice a change in my energy these past few months, but its happened quite a lot. Some people haven't even recognized me. And its not that I've physically changed much or done anything different with my style or anything, it's simply the way that I've been carrying myself. With a smile instead of a frown. With a laugh instead of a snide remark. With using the word 'like' more than I use the word 'hate' and really, just a bunch of other completely simple things. Nothing I would say is drastically different, just more positive. However, when you make this change, when you finally decide to look at all the good instead of the bad, some people in your life wont connect to you the same. Sometimes, its the ones who have been your embrace at the bottom of whatever rock bottom you've reached. Sometimes its your life line. Your rock. Your brother.
A few weeks back, I got a phone call from someone who I've considered a brother over the past few years. Truly, someone who I've looked to for help and looked up to at the same time. And he to me. But this phone call was everything but brotherly. It was basically a huge fuck you. To save details and context, the just of the conversation was to tell me that I haven't changed at all. That I'm still a lying ass hole who has malicious intent in almost all of my actions and that I am no longer welcome anywhere near his home. It was hurtful to say the least. Could some of the things he said be true? Of course. I would never sit back and wipe my hands clean without taking on some responsibility for the things he accused me of. However, this conversation was extremely derailing. After all of the acknowledgment of the progress I've made, after graduating and moving on with my life and being genuinely happy for the first time in a while, having someone as close as a brother take multiple stabs at my character while slaying random bursts of disdain and judgment hurt really fucking bad. And the fucked up thing was that I actually let this derail me. That self critical part of myself came out again and I actually thought that maybe, everything he said was a hundred percent accurate. That maybe I'm still an untrustworthy piece of shit. That maybe I still steal and lie and hurt people for no good reason at all. Then, about 15 minutes later, I got a text. It was from one of my best friends and she said,
"I just wanted to let you know that you are an amazing friend and I love you."
I'm not quite sure how that happened. How the universe produced exactly what I needed from someone who I needed it from, but it did. And I was thankful. See, I could have easily lost myself in that storm of judgment and jumped right back into my drying machine and sat alone and angry at life for the next few weeks. But I didn't. I couldn't. My change wouldn't let me. So what, a friend of mine decided to take out a lot of things on me to benefit himself and his state of mind. Thats good for him. Thats a positive in his eyes so let it be just that. Its a good thing. And I, on the other hand, I still have great friends who love me. Who see me for who I am and not who I was. Who don't judge me or stay critical of me based on any action that I've done. I have a great father who is always here for me when I need him. Who takes me out golfing every Sunday just to spend time with me. I have a dog who is going to be an endless supply of joy until the day she leaves me and I'm determined to love every minute of it. And then smile because she was apart of my life. I have a car. I have a degree. I have life experience that some might never ask for but I see it as beauty. I have feet. I have lungs. I have every capability to do every little thing that I have ever wanted to do and nothing is going to get in my god damn way anymore.
So if you ever want to know where to find me, I'll be the one outside on a rainy day in swim trunks and sunglasses catching one
gnarly
tan.
Things that have happened, have happened. I'm sure this isn't news to most people but for me, this was world changing to digest and understand. For me, my life has been a constant cyclical motion, a drying machine of guilt from one thing or another. Then I would repress it, ignore it and move on until someday, some where along the road, I'd stumble across a reminder of all the shitty things I've done in my life. Maybe in the form of a forgotten friendship. Maybe in the midst of an argument. Maybe in a number of other ways but whatever form that reminder came in, usually and for the most part, would consume my conscious with overwhelming guilt ...and then self hatred... and then a need for pity... and then a need to repress everything again and from there, I would totally lose myself. However, this year I made a conscious decision to just accept shit. Literally, accept all the nasty, horrible, terrifying shit I've produced in my life and get over it. There's no real use in perpetuating that cycle or attempting to perfect the cycle. All that was left was to break it and that's what I did. Unfortunately though, every high comes with a new low. Always. There's never always blue skies. There's never always 76 degree weather, no humidity and open pools. Fuck, some days, we can't even see the sun. But those are the times when you are meant to just relax and be mindful of all the blessings you have in your life. Because there's no real use in worrying about the clouds or the rain or the storms because eventually, the sun will come out and everything will be how its supposed to be. Even on cloudy days, you can still get a tan right? See, there's always a positive to find... so find it. It might be hiding. It might be behind a bunch of personal issues and deadlines and stresses but if you forget about all that nonsense for one second and focus on something positive, like how your family hasn't given up on you. Like how your dog is still as awesome as she ever was. Like how your car still works fine and you have food in your pantry and you have friends who love you. If you can just take a step back and find the silver lining in the clouds for one second, I promise that you will find a high in every low. I Promise.
I can't really tell you how many times I've had someone notice a change in my energy these past few months, but its happened quite a lot. Some people haven't even recognized me. And its not that I've physically changed much or done anything different with my style or anything, it's simply the way that I've been carrying myself. With a smile instead of a frown. With a laugh instead of a snide remark. With using the word 'like' more than I use the word 'hate' and really, just a bunch of other completely simple things. Nothing I would say is drastically different, just more positive. However, when you make this change, when you finally decide to look at all the good instead of the bad, some people in your life wont connect to you the same. Sometimes, its the ones who have been your embrace at the bottom of whatever rock bottom you've reached. Sometimes its your life line. Your rock. Your brother.
A few weeks back, I got a phone call from someone who I've considered a brother over the past few years. Truly, someone who I've looked to for help and looked up to at the same time. And he to me. But this phone call was everything but brotherly. It was basically a huge fuck you. To save details and context, the just of the conversation was to tell me that I haven't changed at all. That I'm still a lying ass hole who has malicious intent in almost all of my actions and that I am no longer welcome anywhere near his home. It was hurtful to say the least. Could some of the things he said be true? Of course. I would never sit back and wipe my hands clean without taking on some responsibility for the things he accused me of. However, this conversation was extremely derailing. After all of the acknowledgment of the progress I've made, after graduating and moving on with my life and being genuinely happy for the first time in a while, having someone as close as a brother take multiple stabs at my character while slaying random bursts of disdain and judgment hurt really fucking bad. And the fucked up thing was that I actually let this derail me. That self critical part of myself came out again and I actually thought that maybe, everything he said was a hundred percent accurate. That maybe I'm still an untrustworthy piece of shit. That maybe I still steal and lie and hurt people for no good reason at all. Then, about 15 minutes later, I got a text. It was from one of my best friends and she said,
"I just wanted to let you know that you are an amazing friend and I love you."
I'm not quite sure how that happened. How the universe produced exactly what I needed from someone who I needed it from, but it did. And I was thankful. See, I could have easily lost myself in that storm of judgment and jumped right back into my drying machine and sat alone and angry at life for the next few weeks. But I didn't. I couldn't. My change wouldn't let me. So what, a friend of mine decided to take out a lot of things on me to benefit himself and his state of mind. Thats good for him. Thats a positive in his eyes so let it be just that. Its a good thing. And I, on the other hand, I still have great friends who love me. Who see me for who I am and not who I was. Who don't judge me or stay critical of me based on any action that I've done. I have a great father who is always here for me when I need him. Who takes me out golfing every Sunday just to spend time with me. I have a dog who is going to be an endless supply of joy until the day she leaves me and I'm determined to love every minute of it. And then smile because she was apart of my life. I have a car. I have a degree. I have life experience that some might never ask for but I see it as beauty. I have feet. I have lungs. I have every capability to do every little thing that I have ever wanted to do and nothing is going to get in my god damn way anymore.
So if you ever want to know where to find me, I'll be the one outside on a rainy day in swim trunks and sunglasses catching one
gnarly
tan.
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
Not the proudest moment of my life
I've been picking up broken pieces of myself for as long as I can remember. I've been shoveling them into compartments that I seal away in the back of my mind hoping that one day, they will erase themselves.
Recently I've noticed that this doesn't happen. Those pieces are me. They aren't just garbage. They aren't just waste. And as much as I'd love to throw them away with the rest of painful bullshit in my life, they are still appendages of my being. They are prosthetic emotions. Gorilla in their tactics. Savage.
As much as I want to sit here and say I'm healed and I'm good and I've moved onto bigger and better things, I haven't.
I was sitting in a strip club the other day. Unfortunately, this has become normal. See, for some reason, I've convinced myself that it's a great idea to try to engage a relationship with a dancer. It hasn't worked however, and at that moment, while I was by myself, watching her do her thing elsewhere, I felt jealous. I felt vulnerable. I felt like the old me. So I got out of my seat, went over to her in her little corner and approached a very real conversation.
"Whats going on? Will you please talk to me?"
She didn't say a word as she fiddled with her mini purse. Now, theres a little back story to this but it doesn't matter. What matters is that the best part of my instinct was telling me to walk away and give up. It was screaming at me to do this for my own good. Begging me actually. But I didn't listen. I sat there convinced that I could get her to open up to me.
"I just want you to talk to me. Whats going on?"
"Nothing."
It was one of those nothings that meant everything. It was in her eyes. It was in her tone. And once again, that little glimpse of healthy inside me was yelling at me to say fuck it. To walk away as quickly as possible and never look back. But I stayed in that discomfort. I stayed so long that the discomfort became tears. Yup... I actually felt a pain so familiar that from the bowels of my emotions came a huge uproar of tears that didn't fall with a whimper or a quiver in my lip. They fell freely. Like they've been waiting for this moment. This feeling. This hurt.
I sat back and tried my hardest to not let her see them. Wiping them away didn't work though and as they sat on my cheeks, she looked at me like a child and told me to stop. Like it was something I was doing for attention or pity. Like somehow, I was controlling this god damn gorilla emotion. But ultimately, I was as confused as she was. I didn't know why this was happening. I just knew it was and it wasn't right and it wasn't okay. I got up and walked to the bathroom to compose myself.
After a few days of thinking about this, I've understood why this happened. It sucks to have to admit this but somewhere deep down, theres still a part of me that wants to hurt. That needs to hurt. I'm attracted to people who will hurt me and who can validate some compartmentalized self loathing that has nothing to do with my current mind space or the positive path I've been traveling on. Its sneaky and quite but when it has the opportunity, it will show up and fuck everything in the face. And not gently or softly. It rapes without conscious and then leaves with bread crumb traces of all the broken pieces it took out of hiding... I hate that. I hate feeling that way. I hate knowing I'm not healed. At all.
I'd like to say theres some moral to this or that there's something I've learned but honestly, theres nothing here. I still feel drawn to her. I still feel like I can be the person who she liked in the first place and I can tuck all those emotional shards back into their hiding places and play it off like I was just having a bad day. Maybe if she can hide her real self from me for this long, maybe I can too.
I feel like I have the potential to be different than who I have been. I've been feeling it for months now. Maybe part of growing has to do with compartmentalizing the old in order to make room for the new. Maybe. Or maybe I'm completely wrong. And this uproar will continue to happen. And I will keep making the same mistakes and become more and more confused with why they're happening. Maybe. I don't have the answers. I never have. But hopefully, at the very least,
I'll continue to wake up knowing that today, I'm going to try to be the best version of myself I know possible. If that means I cry at strip clubs, oh well. At least I'm fucking honest about it.
Recently I've noticed that this doesn't happen. Those pieces are me. They aren't just garbage. They aren't just waste. And as much as I'd love to throw them away with the rest of painful bullshit in my life, they are still appendages of my being. They are prosthetic emotions. Gorilla in their tactics. Savage.
As much as I want to sit here and say I'm healed and I'm good and I've moved onto bigger and better things, I haven't.
I was sitting in a strip club the other day. Unfortunately, this has become normal. See, for some reason, I've convinced myself that it's a great idea to try to engage a relationship with a dancer. It hasn't worked however, and at that moment, while I was by myself, watching her do her thing elsewhere, I felt jealous. I felt vulnerable. I felt like the old me. So I got out of my seat, went over to her in her little corner and approached a very real conversation.
"Whats going on? Will you please talk to me?"
She didn't say a word as she fiddled with her mini purse. Now, theres a little back story to this but it doesn't matter. What matters is that the best part of my instinct was telling me to walk away and give up. It was screaming at me to do this for my own good. Begging me actually. But I didn't listen. I sat there convinced that I could get her to open up to me.
"I just want you to talk to me. Whats going on?"
"Nothing."
It was one of those nothings that meant everything. It was in her eyes. It was in her tone. And once again, that little glimpse of healthy inside me was yelling at me to say fuck it. To walk away as quickly as possible and never look back. But I stayed in that discomfort. I stayed so long that the discomfort became tears. Yup... I actually felt a pain so familiar that from the bowels of my emotions came a huge uproar of tears that didn't fall with a whimper or a quiver in my lip. They fell freely. Like they've been waiting for this moment. This feeling. This hurt.
I sat back and tried my hardest to not let her see them. Wiping them away didn't work though and as they sat on my cheeks, she looked at me like a child and told me to stop. Like it was something I was doing for attention or pity. Like somehow, I was controlling this god damn gorilla emotion. But ultimately, I was as confused as she was. I didn't know why this was happening. I just knew it was and it wasn't right and it wasn't okay. I got up and walked to the bathroom to compose myself.
After a few days of thinking about this, I've understood why this happened. It sucks to have to admit this but somewhere deep down, theres still a part of me that wants to hurt. That needs to hurt. I'm attracted to people who will hurt me and who can validate some compartmentalized self loathing that has nothing to do with my current mind space or the positive path I've been traveling on. Its sneaky and quite but when it has the opportunity, it will show up and fuck everything in the face. And not gently or softly. It rapes without conscious and then leaves with bread crumb traces of all the broken pieces it took out of hiding... I hate that. I hate feeling that way. I hate knowing I'm not healed. At all.
I'd like to say theres some moral to this or that there's something I've learned but honestly, theres nothing here. I still feel drawn to her. I still feel like I can be the person who she liked in the first place and I can tuck all those emotional shards back into their hiding places and play it off like I was just having a bad day. Maybe if she can hide her real self from me for this long, maybe I can too.
I feel like I have the potential to be different than who I have been. I've been feeling it for months now. Maybe part of growing has to do with compartmentalizing the old in order to make room for the new. Maybe. Or maybe I'm completely wrong. And this uproar will continue to happen. And I will keep making the same mistakes and become more and more confused with why they're happening. Maybe. I don't have the answers. I never have. But hopefully, at the very least,
I'll continue to wake up knowing that today, I'm going to try to be the best version of myself I know possible. If that means I cry at strip clubs, oh well. At least I'm fucking honest about it.
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
instead of studying for this test...
I should be studying but I dont fucking want to. I've kind of been slacking on my writing lately anyway and even though this isn't anything thought out, this is still worth sharing. I'll come back to the page eventually. I just feel like thinking will keep me from participating in life so for now, I'm just being (name this quote and you're my favorite person.) Anyway, this is just a typical facebook conversation...
Him: Whatup dude?
tryin to find a new series to get into on netflix
raising hope is pretty funny
Me: lol ya not much for those fox/cbs/nbc shows to be honest
thats one of them right?
nurse jackie is a good one, showtime- you'd like it. its about addiction.
Him: you ever seen torchwood
i saw the frst season i didnt even know they made more
Me: ya theres a few more.
never heard of torchwood
shameless is supposed to be good
i dream of jeany
munsters
those are rad
drag race
Him: ill check em out
Me: lol dont im just fuckin with you
all those shoes are either 30 years old or about trannys
shows*
Him: hold up did you say trannys
Me: i did actually
Him: omg
what show is that?
pre op or post op
or both
Me: drag race
pre
i think...
its confusing man.
they refer to each other as girl when they are so clearly not.
its weird
dont watch it...
actually
do.
watch all the seasons.
now
Him: im masturbating to it now
its so hot
im rock hard
Me: haha
me too
dual hardness
what you doin tomorrow?
Him: livin life
Me: so smoking cigarettes on your couch?
Him: yes
Me: lol
nice
livin life
Him: come by if you wanna do some cigarettes and chips
Me: dude thats way too intense for me, im still just on chips...
but i got class till 11 or so and then i gotta run to the court house and depending on how that goes, i might be trying to get fucked up...
but regardless ill stop over when im done with that
Him: sounds good
ill be here
actually lemme check my planner
u said class till 11?
Me: ya
Him: i gotta 15 minute nap at 11 so when ur out we should be good
1115 im smokin a square though
Me: ah... damn
what time you got netflix tomorrow?
Him: thats at 1116
Me: oh ok, so lets make it like 11:42 then.
Him: ok that works i should have a couple minutes to chill
Me: ok good, i got to sit in my car from 12 to 3 so that works
Him: yeah i was gonna ask you, when you sit in your car for hours, do you keep it started?
Me: i try not to cuz my slipnot and 36 mafia drains the batterry
Him: i dunno man i just heard of people that keep there car running
Me: only when im listening to dave mathews band i keep it on, full blast
Him: yeah i use my discman if i have to, i try to make copies on tapes to use my walkman though.
i mostly rock out to ace of base though
Me: i saw the sign?
dude
that opend up my eyes
Him: yeah i had an epiphany last time i listen to it
and realized what i was going to do with my life
Me: haha...
i got class in like 4 hours i gotta try to sleep
Him: aright brother ill see u tomorrow
Me: ill stop over when im done with a boombox blaring ace a base
Him: just come over
Me: will do
Him: my phone sucks dicks
Me: ya you do
Him: yeah i know
Me: lol
alright man
ill bring my crippled dog
Him: dude
i swear to god
i will stab him
fin.
Him: Whatup dude?
tryin to find a new series to get into on netflix
raising hope is pretty funny
Me: lol ya not much for those fox/cbs/nbc shows to be honest
thats one of them right?
nurse jackie is a good one, showtime- you'd like it. its about addiction.
Him: you ever seen torchwood
i saw the frst season i didnt even know they made more
Me: ya theres a few more.
never heard of torchwood
shameless is supposed to be good
i dream of jeany
munsters
those are rad
drag race
Him: ill check em out
Me: lol dont im just fuckin with you
all those shoes are either 30 years old or about trannys
shows*
Him: hold up did you say trannys
Me: i did actually
Him: omg
what show is that?
pre op or post op
or both
Me: drag race
pre
i think...
its confusing man.
they refer to each other as girl when they are so clearly not.
its weird
dont watch it...
actually
do.
watch all the seasons.
now
Him: im masturbating to it now
its so hot
im rock hard
Me: haha
me too
dual hardness
what you doin tomorrow?
Him: livin life
Me: so smoking cigarettes on your couch?
Him: yes
Me: lol
nice
livin life
Him: come by if you wanna do some cigarettes and chips
Me: dude thats way too intense for me, im still just on chips...
but i got class till 11 or so and then i gotta run to the court house and depending on how that goes, i might be trying to get fucked up...
but regardless ill stop over when im done with that
Him: sounds good
ill be here
actually lemme check my planner
u said class till 11?
Me: ya
Him: i gotta 15 minute nap at 11 so when ur out we should be good
1115 im smokin a square though
Me: ah... damn
what time you got netflix tomorrow?
Him: thats at 1116
Me: oh ok, so lets make it like 11:42 then.
Him: ok that works i should have a couple minutes to chill
Me: ok good, i got to sit in my car from 12 to 3 so that works
Him: yeah i was gonna ask you, when you sit in your car for hours, do you keep it started?
Me: i try not to cuz my slipnot and 36 mafia drains the batterry
Him: i dunno man i just heard of people that keep there car running
Me: only when im listening to dave mathews band i keep it on, full blast
Him: yeah i use my discman if i have to, i try to make copies on tapes to use my walkman though.
i mostly rock out to ace of base though
Me: i saw the sign?
dude
that opend up my eyes
Him: yeah i had an epiphany last time i listen to it
and realized what i was going to do with my life
Me: haha...
i got class in like 4 hours i gotta try to sleep
Him: aright brother ill see u tomorrow
Me: ill stop over when im done with a boombox blaring ace a base
Him: just come over
Me: will do
Him: my phone sucks dicks
Me: ya you do
Him: yeah i know
Me: lol
alright man
ill bring my crippled dog
Him: dude
i swear to god
i will stab him
fin.
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
Spring break and such
First off, I am fed up with politics. Seriously. I dont think anything is more revolting. Other than maybe Swiss cheese. Maybe. But even that I can tolerate. Politics though, politics is like playing basketball blind. And upside down. It's all backwards and pointless and if you have half a brain, you wouldn't even try to participate. I remember back in 2008 I was so involved with that bullshit that one day, after work, I almost fought a guy on Westnedge for flamboyantly ranting about McCain. No joke. It got really serious. I remember I was so livid about a change in our government that I got in some randoms face and honestly, I dont really blame myself. George Bush sucked. Straight up. He laid a foundation of garbage for who ever was to take control and the last thing I felt was necessary was for another douche bag rightest to step up and make that pile bigger. That was my stand point. Thats how I voted. And I'm not going to sit here and say that Obama hasn't done anything, but I am going to say that my faith in government, specifically our own, has completely failed. I just dont believe we know what to do. And likewise, I dont know what to do. So all in all, politics is just horse shit. I'm sick of faces. I'm sick of diluted issues. I'm just sick of it all.
Anyway, I'm in L.A. right now. Spring break, ya dig. It's a crazy area, I have to say. Definitely something I'm not used to but something I totally could. Easily. There's a lot of shit to do. And see. And the energy is radiantly lax. People just talk to you. And smile and shit. Its cool. I've even got real cool with the security guard here at my hotel. Just sitting outside at 2 am smoking cigarettes, telling me his life story and laughing. But even in all of this exploration and this new little segment of my year, I'm finding that I obsess over not having like minded company. See, I'm here with my Dad. And even though I am far past that stage of "ew, parents", I catch myself casually using the word fuck and shit and ass hole around him and buying pieces at head shops and trying to walk into dispensaries while he stands idol outside in his wind breaker and New Balances and I'm starting to wish I just didn't come. That sounds really shitty of me to say, because truly I'm thankful to have a family member who is generous enough to let me tag along with him to visit my brother. And I am truly grateful that I really dont have to pay for shit or do anything beside wake up and enjoy the weather and drink and drive around. But at the same time, I feel uncomfortably removed. Like I'm forcing conversations about things that I dont care about. I mean, today when I went to see my brothers architecture firm, he was showing us around and telling us how things got built and so on, with jargon that was way above my head and what not. And as he's showing us around, I noticed a snazzy little basketball hoop they had literally designed specifically for the firms parking lot and I said,
"So, do any of those geeks in there come out and play with you or is this just here for show?"
"No, we play. We used to have some Mexican guys who were doing construction on the rail way come down and play us. But my boss fired them. So now its just me and a few other guys." he said.
"Mexican , huh?"
Then my Dad chimes in and says
"Well Mexicans can be good at things if you give them direction."
I began laughing hysterically. I looked at my brother and then back at him and said,
"Ha, what the fuck kind of racist shit is that? 'THEY can be good at things if you give them direction?' The fuck? And Mexicans right? Not, like, Spanish?"
My brother laughed with me but my Dad obviously missed the entire point of my comment and simply replied,
"Yeah."
So alright, my Dads not a racist. I swear. He's just old. However, that was a horribly racist fucking thing to say. But my point to all of this is that I can't joke with him how I naturally joke. Its uncomfortable and draining to try even.
Thats starting to suck I suppose. But to be honest, I'm just happy to be out of Michigan. Because that place is shit. Not the people, love the people. Just the place. Theres no life there. Its a wasteland of talent and good people and job hungry no bodies. It's a shitty place, truly. Stupid snow. Stupid humidity. Lame night life. Just shit. So when I came here, I had a few goals in mind.
A.) Explore
B.) Drink and meet people
and C.) Try to hang out with some people I've been meaning to.
The first two are a given. I'm just going to do that, naturally. But the last one I knew was going to be difficult. Most people have jobs and shit. Obligations that they can't just forget about because someone from somewhere is in their town. Even my brother can't take off work till Friday. So its understandable. But there was one person specifically that I wanted to come out here and see and out of everyone I got a hold of, she was the only one to completely ignore my email. Completely. Everyone else got back at me and some said they'd be available later in the week or invited me up to Hollywood but she... well, I guess she just doesn't give a shit. Not that she should, but it was kind of important to me. Its been seriously fucking with my morale. I mean, its not like I come out this way much. Actually, I've never been west of the Rockies and right now, I can't really predict the next time I'll be back out here. I felt that maybe, just maybe I could wedge myself into her schedule just for coffee or something simple. But I guess that just didn't work out for her... so much that she couldn't even just say no.
I've been seeming to get this a lot lately and I can't help but take it personally. Like I have some huge character flaw that revolts people like politics or Swiss cheese. A lot of friends I consider close to my heart have been straight up ignoring my branches to reach out and reconnect and its starting to fuck with my head. I just dont get it. I've come to the point in my life where I'm about two steps away from accepting who I am and the few qualities I have and being okay with them but I feel like every day I make these baby steps, I'm being shoved back by the reality of peoples feelings towards me. Sometimes we can perceive the way people react to us through an entirely projected view point of how we see our selves. But what about when we start to see ourselves in a positive light and the negative still keeps coming? Why does that happen?
I hate to say this, but thats just not fucking fair...
Anyway, its late. I got more adventures to dive into tomorrow. I should probably go to bed.
Anyway, I'm in L.A. right now. Spring break, ya dig. It's a crazy area, I have to say. Definitely something I'm not used to but something I totally could. Easily. There's a lot of shit to do. And see. And the energy is radiantly lax. People just talk to you. And smile and shit. Its cool. I've even got real cool with the security guard here at my hotel. Just sitting outside at 2 am smoking cigarettes, telling me his life story and laughing. But even in all of this exploration and this new little segment of my year, I'm finding that I obsess over not having like minded company. See, I'm here with my Dad. And even though I am far past that stage of "ew, parents", I catch myself casually using the word fuck and shit and ass hole around him and buying pieces at head shops and trying to walk into dispensaries while he stands idol outside in his wind breaker and New Balances and I'm starting to wish I just didn't come. That sounds really shitty of me to say, because truly I'm thankful to have a family member who is generous enough to let me tag along with him to visit my brother. And I am truly grateful that I really dont have to pay for shit or do anything beside wake up and enjoy the weather and drink and drive around. But at the same time, I feel uncomfortably removed. Like I'm forcing conversations about things that I dont care about. I mean, today when I went to see my brothers architecture firm, he was showing us around and telling us how things got built and so on, with jargon that was way above my head and what not. And as he's showing us around, I noticed a snazzy little basketball hoop they had literally designed specifically for the firms parking lot and I said,
"So, do any of those geeks in there come out and play with you or is this just here for show?"
"No, we play. We used to have some Mexican guys who were doing construction on the rail way come down and play us. But my boss fired them. So now its just me and a few other guys." he said.
"Mexican , huh?"
Then my Dad chimes in and says
"Well Mexicans can be good at things if you give them direction."
I began laughing hysterically. I looked at my brother and then back at him and said,
"Ha, what the fuck kind of racist shit is that? 'THEY can be good at things if you give them direction?' The fuck? And Mexicans right? Not, like, Spanish?"
My brother laughed with me but my Dad obviously missed the entire point of my comment and simply replied,
"Yeah."
So alright, my Dads not a racist. I swear. He's just old. However, that was a horribly racist fucking thing to say. But my point to all of this is that I can't joke with him how I naturally joke. Its uncomfortable and draining to try even.
Thats starting to suck I suppose. But to be honest, I'm just happy to be out of Michigan. Because that place is shit. Not the people, love the people. Just the place. Theres no life there. Its a wasteland of talent and good people and job hungry no bodies. It's a shitty place, truly. Stupid snow. Stupid humidity. Lame night life. Just shit. So when I came here, I had a few goals in mind.
A.) Explore
B.) Drink and meet people
and C.) Try to hang out with some people I've been meaning to.
The first two are a given. I'm just going to do that, naturally. But the last one I knew was going to be difficult. Most people have jobs and shit. Obligations that they can't just forget about because someone from somewhere is in their town. Even my brother can't take off work till Friday. So its understandable. But there was one person specifically that I wanted to come out here and see and out of everyone I got a hold of, she was the only one to completely ignore my email. Completely. Everyone else got back at me and some said they'd be available later in the week or invited me up to Hollywood but she... well, I guess she just doesn't give a shit. Not that she should, but it was kind of important to me. Its been seriously fucking with my morale. I mean, its not like I come out this way much. Actually, I've never been west of the Rockies and right now, I can't really predict the next time I'll be back out here. I felt that maybe, just maybe I could wedge myself into her schedule just for coffee or something simple. But I guess that just didn't work out for her... so much that she couldn't even just say no.
I've been seeming to get this a lot lately and I can't help but take it personally. Like I have some huge character flaw that revolts people like politics or Swiss cheese. A lot of friends I consider close to my heart have been straight up ignoring my branches to reach out and reconnect and its starting to fuck with my head. I just dont get it. I've come to the point in my life where I'm about two steps away from accepting who I am and the few qualities I have and being okay with them but I feel like every day I make these baby steps, I'm being shoved back by the reality of peoples feelings towards me. Sometimes we can perceive the way people react to us through an entirely projected view point of how we see our selves. But what about when we start to see ourselves in a positive light and the negative still keeps coming? Why does that happen?
I hate to say this, but thats just not fucking fair...
Anyway, its late. I got more adventures to dive into tomorrow. I should probably go to bed.
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Once upon a time, I was in love.
Then Valentines Day rolled around. She came home with a rather large object wrapped in a suede sheath. I had no clue what it was. I gave her the present I had bought for her. She thanked me. Then she handed me her present.
It was a bottle of lotion.
Fuck Valentines Day.
Then Valentines Day rolled around. She came home with a rather large object wrapped in a suede sheath. I had no clue what it was. I gave her the present I had bought for her. She thanked me. Then she handed me her present.
It was a bottle of lotion.
Fuck Valentines Day.
Friday, February 10, 2012
Don't give up on me yet
Fridays are boring here in the mitten. At least in February. There's not much else to do besides get high and watch TV. Or game. Unless, of course, you feel like spending your time upping your swag only to get it fucked up by some lame ass snow. And if, by chance, you escape natures thrust of nasty wet cold shit, you are sure to find it all over those new suede Pumas you bought over Christmas break once you decide to leave that sticky sweat box of a bar(true story).
So tonight when I got home, I decided I would have a spa date with my dog. That's right, I said spa date mother fucker. It's serious. See, for Christmas I received a gift that was full of doggy spa stuff and I felt like tonight she was rather deserving of a pampering. She's been awesome lately. And mainly because she no longer has any other dogs to bicker with around the house. After 13 years Beau, the terrorist dog, finally made his exit last week. It was sort of difficult to watch him deteriorate. But eventually , it was going to happen.
He was the last original dog of the house and to be honest, my dog just didn't like either of them much. Not at all actually. They all got along for a few years, but after that, my little pitty got alpha on all of them and decided to ruin their lives. I wont lie, she did. She would attack them for getting in her space or coming near me or for simply growling at her. It got pretty bad for a little while. One thing that I have never been able to do with my dog is train the aggression out of her. For the most part, this is my fault. As an owner of rescued fighting dogs, I am responsible for retraining them. And I never have. I have figured out gimmicks for teaching dogs how to shake, lay down, roll over, speak, and all the other fancy useless things dog owners like to humanize their pets with. But the one thing I've never been able to do is control her rage. Sometimes she just shakes. The whites of her eyes will get beet red and she'll just shake. But even then, even in the midst of her anger fit, she would still sit by my side if I told her to. She would put her head on my lap and close her eyes as if she knew what she was thinking was wrong but she couldn't stop it. I couldn't stop it. But at least she was always willing to try to and I wasn't going to leave her to deal with that on her own. I would try not to put her in her cage or away from the other dogs because deep down, underneath her label and her scars and her intimidating stature is a sweetheart. A huge, cushiony, beautiful sweet heart and I've always known that. But not everyone else has.
" Dad, just wanted to call and let you know that Merc attacked Beau again. Its not that bad but his ear's a little ripped up. I dont really know how it started; I was upstairs and I just heard some growling and I guess she snapped..."
"WHAT?! AGAIN?! Ugh, Beau doesn't deserve that. And this sounds like it was totally unwarranted... I can't have this in my house anymore. Seriously, something has to be done. She can't just keep attacking them like that."
He was right. He always was. There usually is no good reason to attack anything or anyone but every time we had this sort of conversation, I would find myself getting extremely defensive.
" I know, I know. I mean, I can't do anything about it right now. There's just a switch that goes off in her head and training her in that moment would be extremely dangerous on my part. I can't just give her away. And the shelter would put her down for fighting. I dont know what you want me to do."
Really, there was nothing that I could do. I can't take away her past and no matter how many years of loving affection I give her, that hardened, chained to a wall, underfed dog is still going to be there. And the truth of the matter is this : I dont speak dog. No one "speaks" dog. Yeah, we might interpret their actions through our perspective but at the end of the day, we dont know shit. Maybe those dogs smelled wrong to her. Maybe they gave her some signal that was the equivalent of someone slapping us in the face. I dont know, you dont know. No one knows. But what I knew then and what I know now hasn't changed; this dog is mine and I love her. Nothing will change that. No amount of anything would convince me give up on her and I will always believe in her. Indefinitely.
I feel strongly about this. Its not just a random moral I attached myself to. It's not just a respectable ideal. It's something that I've lived. It's been instilled into who I am. See, for most of my life, I've had people give up on me. I've watched people lose their faith in me. Bosses, parents, teachers, friends. I'm used to it. I'm used to those looks past me and those questionable comments implying that I am as much of a piece of shit as they thought I was. And up to this day, it's still something difficult for me to process. It's never made much sense to me how people can instantaneously label me worthless or worth giving up on or worth a C- because, well, he just doesn't act like he cares. So what? No one ever told you that Western Civ was enthralling for a 16 year old. No one ever told you that delivering sub sandwiches is a passion. No one ever told you that cleaning dog shit from the back yard is high on their priorities. So when I come into your class room, throw everything off your desk and threaten to beat your ass because you know, as well as I do, that my essays on your exam deserved way better than a 5 out of 15, that my sandwich was delivered on time and with no complaints until they called you about my music as I drove off, or that the shit in the backyard will still be their tomorrow, dont be fucking surprised that I maintain that level of a 'piece of shit who doesn't care' at that point. If you give up on me, fuck you. Thats my motto.
The funny thing about that motto is that its not going to get me anywhere. It's not doing anything to meet the opposite party half way and it's doing everything to give everyone the finger who comes into my life. That judgment isn't completely false. That judgment isn't completely unfair. Because, just like dogs, sometimes there are things that go unspoken but they are just as palpable as getting slapped in the face. The aura of 'piece of shit' exudes from who I am on some level and I can't act victim to that. Because somewhere along the line, somewhere amongst all of the bullshit I've put myself through or been put through, I forgot to believe in myself. I forgot to believe in my passions. In my work. In my writing. I forgot who I was. I forgot my worth. I can't walk through life thinking people shouldn't give up on me if I can't even convince myself to do that very same thing.
After all of the classes I've been kicked out of or stormed out of, after all of the bridges I've burned with employers, friends and family, after all of that- I have noticed that I am the first person to not believe in who I am before anyone else will and thats not okay. I can have walls and I can keep people at bay and I can do everything to keep my defense up but if all I'm protecting is someone who isn't worth it, I need to change that. Because underneath this hardened, beat up, thrown around and misused cast iron exterior is a sweetheart. A huge, beautiful, cushiony sweet heart and I've always known that.
Now, I just need to believe it.
So tonight when I got home, I decided I would have a spa date with my dog. That's right, I said spa date mother fucker. It's serious. See, for Christmas I received a gift that was full of doggy spa stuff and I felt like tonight she was rather deserving of a pampering. She's been awesome lately. And mainly because she no longer has any other dogs to bicker with around the house. After 13 years Beau, the terrorist dog, finally made his exit last week. It was sort of difficult to watch him deteriorate. But eventually , it was going to happen.
He was the last original dog of the house and to be honest, my dog just didn't like either of them much. Not at all actually. They all got along for a few years, but after that, my little pitty got alpha on all of them and decided to ruin their lives. I wont lie, she did. She would attack them for getting in her space or coming near me or for simply growling at her. It got pretty bad for a little while. One thing that I have never been able to do with my dog is train the aggression out of her. For the most part, this is my fault. As an owner of rescued fighting dogs, I am responsible for retraining them. And I never have. I have figured out gimmicks for teaching dogs how to shake, lay down, roll over, speak, and all the other fancy useless things dog owners like to humanize their pets with. But the one thing I've never been able to do is control her rage. Sometimes she just shakes. The whites of her eyes will get beet red and she'll just shake. But even then, even in the midst of her anger fit, she would still sit by my side if I told her to. She would put her head on my lap and close her eyes as if she knew what she was thinking was wrong but she couldn't stop it. I couldn't stop it. But at least she was always willing to try to and I wasn't going to leave her to deal with that on her own. I would try not to put her in her cage or away from the other dogs because deep down, underneath her label and her scars and her intimidating stature is a sweetheart. A huge, cushiony, beautiful sweet heart and I've always known that. But not everyone else has.
" Dad, just wanted to call and let you know that Merc attacked Beau again. Its not that bad but his ear's a little ripped up. I dont really know how it started; I was upstairs and I just heard some growling and I guess she snapped..."
"WHAT?! AGAIN?! Ugh, Beau doesn't deserve that. And this sounds like it was totally unwarranted... I can't have this in my house anymore. Seriously, something has to be done. She can't just keep attacking them like that."
He was right. He always was. There usually is no good reason to attack anything or anyone but every time we had this sort of conversation, I would find myself getting extremely defensive.
" I know, I know. I mean, I can't do anything about it right now. There's just a switch that goes off in her head and training her in that moment would be extremely dangerous on my part. I can't just give her away. And the shelter would put her down for fighting. I dont know what you want me to do."
Really, there was nothing that I could do. I can't take away her past and no matter how many years of loving affection I give her, that hardened, chained to a wall, underfed dog is still going to be there. And the truth of the matter is this : I dont speak dog. No one "speaks" dog. Yeah, we might interpret their actions through our perspective but at the end of the day, we dont know shit. Maybe those dogs smelled wrong to her. Maybe they gave her some signal that was the equivalent of someone slapping us in the face. I dont know, you dont know. No one knows. But what I knew then and what I know now hasn't changed; this dog is mine and I love her. Nothing will change that. No amount of anything would convince me give up on her and I will always believe in her. Indefinitely.
I feel strongly about this. Its not just a random moral I attached myself to. It's not just a respectable ideal. It's something that I've lived. It's been instilled into who I am. See, for most of my life, I've had people give up on me. I've watched people lose their faith in me. Bosses, parents, teachers, friends. I'm used to it. I'm used to those looks past me and those questionable comments implying that I am as much of a piece of shit as they thought I was. And up to this day, it's still something difficult for me to process. It's never made much sense to me how people can instantaneously label me worthless or worth giving up on or worth a C- because, well, he just doesn't act like he cares. So what? No one ever told you that Western Civ was enthralling for a 16 year old. No one ever told you that delivering sub sandwiches is a passion. No one ever told you that cleaning dog shit from the back yard is high on their priorities. So when I come into your class room, throw everything off your desk and threaten to beat your ass because you know, as well as I do, that my essays on your exam deserved way better than a 5 out of 15, that my sandwich was delivered on time and with no complaints until they called you about my music as I drove off, or that the shit in the backyard will still be their tomorrow, dont be fucking surprised that I maintain that level of a 'piece of shit who doesn't care' at that point. If you give up on me, fuck you. Thats my motto.
The funny thing about that motto is that its not going to get me anywhere. It's not doing anything to meet the opposite party half way and it's doing everything to give everyone the finger who comes into my life. That judgment isn't completely false. That judgment isn't completely unfair. Because, just like dogs, sometimes there are things that go unspoken but they are just as palpable as getting slapped in the face. The aura of 'piece of shit' exudes from who I am on some level and I can't act victim to that. Because somewhere along the line, somewhere amongst all of the bullshit I've put myself through or been put through, I forgot to believe in myself. I forgot to believe in my passions. In my work. In my writing. I forgot who I was. I forgot my worth. I can't walk through life thinking people shouldn't give up on me if I can't even convince myself to do that very same thing.
After all of the classes I've been kicked out of or stormed out of, after all of the bridges I've burned with employers, friends and family, after all of that- I have noticed that I am the first person to not believe in who I am before anyone else will and thats not okay. I can have walls and I can keep people at bay and I can do everything to keep my defense up but if all I'm protecting is someone who isn't worth it, I need to change that. Because underneath this hardened, beat up, thrown around and misused cast iron exterior is a sweetheart. A huge, beautiful, cushiony sweet heart and I've always known that.
Now, I just need to believe it.
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
I wrote this piece at my condo a few years back. At the time, I was dealing with some pretty serious stuff. Self inflicted mental issues, severe addiction problems. However, somehow- in the midst of it all- I birthed some of the most creative concepts in my writing career. I'm sure at the time I thought this was horrible, as I do about 99% of my words, but I was truly a page powerhouse. As glad as I am to not be in that space anymore, I do miss this creativity. I wish I still wrote like this. Anyway, this is called
Rural Living
The smell of coffee and anxiety wakes me up daily.
Steam engine wind is my alarm.
I sit in my light house
waiting like a widow for bad news.
Its been cold the past few nights,
shivering nerves, drinking during fighting and
I can't help but wonder what happens when the storm comes.
Because usually I would find shelter,
hidden underneath blankets of drugs or
in the security of lit words left as becons for me find happiness.
But this time, I am the tornado.
I will wreck everything in my path and if you get in my way,
get curious about my destruction,
question whether or not you can figure out my power and my creation
without house, fence and car dismantling-
good luck.
I was made to break shit.
Tare down walls, smash the last thing you believed in,
the last thing you owned,
its beautiful from a distance.
Watching global art on doplar convas like
graffiti without
ever thinking of the people who called this their home.
But I am not sending 3 story buildings of bulldozer waves
to your shore,
flooding millions of homes and leaving millions homeless,
I am
in open fields.
Found only if you look,
if you search,
and if you find me, make sure
to find my eyes.
Its the one way to understand my purpose without being hurt,
dig your feet into my soul like sand and stand only for a second,
only for a moment because if you dont work with me,
and you dont move with me,
and you stay where you are...
I will end up ruining you afterwards too.
It is my purpose.
I was made to break shit.
See, I am a tornado but on other days
Im just a guy.
Unnoticable on radars, invisible to pedestrians.
Waiting for his widowed heart to come back to him,
drinking coffee in his light house.
Hoping to one day be looked at from a distance,
just dont come any closer.
Rural Living
The smell of coffee and anxiety wakes me up daily.
Steam engine wind is my alarm.
I sit in my light house
waiting like a widow for bad news.
Its been cold the past few nights,
shivering nerves, drinking during fighting and
I can't help but wonder what happens when the storm comes.
Because usually I would find shelter,
hidden underneath blankets of drugs or
in the security of lit words left as becons for me find happiness.
But this time, I am the tornado.
I will wreck everything in my path and if you get in my way,
get curious about my destruction,
question whether or not you can figure out my power and my creation
without house, fence and car dismantling-
good luck.
I was made to break shit.
Tare down walls, smash the last thing you believed in,
the last thing you owned,
its beautiful from a distance.
Watching global art on doplar convas like
graffiti without
ever thinking of the people who called this their home.
But I am not sending 3 story buildings of bulldozer waves
to your shore,
flooding millions of homes and leaving millions homeless,
I am
in open fields.
Found only if you look,
if you search,
and if you find me, make sure
to find my eyes.
Its the one way to understand my purpose without being hurt,
dig your feet into my soul like sand and stand only for a second,
only for a moment because if you dont work with me,
and you dont move with me,
and you stay where you are...
I will end up ruining you afterwards too.
It is my purpose.
I was made to break shit.
See, I am a tornado but on other days
Im just a guy.
Unnoticable on radars, invisible to pedestrians.
Waiting for his widowed heart to come back to him,
drinking coffee in his light house.
Hoping to one day be looked at from a distance,
just dont come any closer.
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
babbling butt holes
Most days, I feel like I'm destined to be alone. Even though I'm not quite sure destiny is remotely real, a lot of the time I believe in that fate. I have a horrible track record. I have a horrendous amount of scarring. I'm scared. I'm walled. I'm a bitch. I'm an ass. Most of the time, I struggle to even find a faint glimpse of a good quality in myself. No wonder no one else has.
I find myself coming off like a hopeless romantic quite a lot. The fact of the matter is that I sort of am. Sort of. Yeah, I appreciate true relationships and lasting ones and I wouldn't mind to have a girlfriend who I'm committed to to come home to. Yeah. But to be honest, I almost want a failure. I almost want something that is completely wrong for me. I'm not looking every where for 'the one' or even 5th runner up. Right now, I'm just looking for someone to connect with. And if it ends up spiraling into a huge shit explosion and ruining my heart for x amount of months and dragging a new suit case behind me into the next relationship, so be it. I hate being looked at as someone who is too fucking serious. 'Oh, hes cute but he'll pull feelings and I'm not ready for that and he's too good of a guy and he's a gentleman and bla bla bla, I'll just go for his friend'. I'm sick of that. So what, I'm not the typical dude who's going to grab you or one of your drunk friends at a bar and take them home and smash them out and leave the next morning. So what, I'm not going to put you on bull shit and forget your name and treat you like a pair of boxers. Isn't that a good thing? I've been seriously questioning my character these past few months and its really starting to make me wonder if the definition of 'good' even exists any more. Does it? Or has it become so completely perverted that everything is flipped upside down and backwards and now people are just confused entirely so they run home and fuck like headless chicken. I sit back and I watch guys pull girls and usually I find myself asking why. Why the fuck is this twat muffin even close to a girl with that bull shit? Oh thats right, because it fucking works. HORSE SHIT ANTICS WORK WITH GIRLS. Sorry, I hate to generalize. Let me rephrase. Girls, you like ass holes. And guys know this. So they treat you this way. Wonder why you dont end up with a real man? Because you dont want that. You want ass holes. You want a dude who is going to string you along and make you feel unimportant. You want that because ultimately, you can't have that. If you see a dude talking to 13 other females and all of sudden hes on your nuts, yeah, you're going to talk shit while smiling to your girls about 'omg, that dude is such an asshole' but the second he gives you more attention, bam, lets get out of here. And then you give him your number the next morning, you leave and check your phone for hours hoping this dude from last night, who doesn't remember your name from the other 13 girls he talked to, is going to text you and confess his undying love for you and tell you to come over so he can cook dinner for you and watch fucking Dear John- when in reality, you know damn well he doesn't give a shit. Thats it. Thats the key. Devalue the girl until they realize the only value they have is in between texting you and laying in your bed and that my friends is maybe, at most, 45 minutes of sloppy dancing and gum covered cigarette breath. Awesome. And here I am, watching all of this, looking at these god damn babbling butt holes wondering, what ever happened to quality? What ever happened to the virtues, the trustworthy, the respectable, the good? Has it all disappeared? Or have we become so blinded by billboards and movies and unreal that everything we want is completely unattainable so we constantly settle for less than. Someone being less than anything isn't okay. Less than nice. Less than fun. Less then good. See, good is like a mediocre, fifty percent bar. Its not great. Its not horrible. Its just good. Its acceptable. If you ever find yourself saying, oh well he's not that good or oh he doesn't treat me that good, and then follow it up with a BUT, you better check your self. This is not okay. Compromising your definition of good is infectious and I see it everywhere. It lingers in the air around last call and about 90 percent of everyone's level of good lowers exponentially. And the next morning, they end up laying next to their most recent regret. This is not okay. This is an epidemic people and if you continue to perpetuate this decline as being acceptable, you suck. You just suck. Period.
However, something is going to come out of me questioning my character. I feel it. I've been feeling it since my last heart break and it doesn't feel right. It feels like I'm just going to begin to subscribe to this disease and not care. Yeah , I might feel phony. Yeah, I might end up feeling compromised and dirty and more lost. But I keep asking myself how much longer I can deal with being single and I'm pretty sure I was sick of it months ago. I'm lonely. I'm young. I'm a guy. Its either I conform or keep fighting the good fight and to be honest, I'm tired and defeated and I'm about ready to throw in the fuckin towel....
Agh, story of my life....
I find myself coming off like a hopeless romantic quite a lot. The fact of the matter is that I sort of am. Sort of. Yeah, I appreciate true relationships and lasting ones and I wouldn't mind to have a girlfriend who I'm committed to to come home to. Yeah. But to be honest, I almost want a failure. I almost want something that is completely wrong for me. I'm not looking every where for 'the one' or even 5th runner up. Right now, I'm just looking for someone to connect with. And if it ends up spiraling into a huge shit explosion and ruining my heart for x amount of months and dragging a new suit case behind me into the next relationship, so be it. I hate being looked at as someone who is too fucking serious. 'Oh, hes cute but he'll pull feelings and I'm not ready for that and he's too good of a guy and he's a gentleman and bla bla bla, I'll just go for his friend'. I'm sick of that. So what, I'm not the typical dude who's going to grab you or one of your drunk friends at a bar and take them home and smash them out and leave the next morning. So what, I'm not going to put you on bull shit and forget your name and treat you like a pair of boxers. Isn't that a good thing? I've been seriously questioning my character these past few months and its really starting to make me wonder if the definition of 'good' even exists any more. Does it? Or has it become so completely perverted that everything is flipped upside down and backwards and now people are just confused entirely so they run home and fuck like headless chicken. I sit back and I watch guys pull girls and usually I find myself asking why. Why the fuck is this twat muffin even close to a girl with that bull shit? Oh thats right, because it fucking works. HORSE SHIT ANTICS WORK WITH GIRLS. Sorry, I hate to generalize. Let me rephrase. Girls, you like ass holes. And guys know this. So they treat you this way. Wonder why you dont end up with a real man? Because you dont want that. You want ass holes. You want a dude who is going to string you along and make you feel unimportant. You want that because ultimately, you can't have that. If you see a dude talking to 13 other females and all of sudden hes on your nuts, yeah, you're going to talk shit while smiling to your girls about 'omg, that dude is such an asshole' but the second he gives you more attention, bam, lets get out of here. And then you give him your number the next morning, you leave and check your phone for hours hoping this dude from last night, who doesn't remember your name from the other 13 girls he talked to, is going to text you and confess his undying love for you and tell you to come over so he can cook dinner for you and watch fucking Dear John- when in reality, you know damn well he doesn't give a shit. Thats it. Thats the key. Devalue the girl until they realize the only value they have is in between texting you and laying in your bed and that my friends is maybe, at most, 45 minutes of sloppy dancing and gum covered cigarette breath. Awesome. And here I am, watching all of this, looking at these god damn babbling butt holes wondering, what ever happened to quality? What ever happened to the virtues, the trustworthy, the respectable, the good? Has it all disappeared? Or have we become so blinded by billboards and movies and unreal that everything we want is completely unattainable so we constantly settle for less than. Someone being less than anything isn't okay. Less than nice. Less than fun. Less then good. See, good is like a mediocre, fifty percent bar. Its not great. Its not horrible. Its just good. Its acceptable. If you ever find yourself saying, oh well he's not that good or oh he doesn't treat me that good, and then follow it up with a BUT, you better check your self. This is not okay. Compromising your definition of good is infectious and I see it everywhere. It lingers in the air around last call and about 90 percent of everyone's level of good lowers exponentially. And the next morning, they end up laying next to their most recent regret. This is not okay. This is an epidemic people and if you continue to perpetuate this decline as being acceptable, you suck. You just suck. Period.
However, something is going to come out of me questioning my character. I feel it. I've been feeling it since my last heart break and it doesn't feel right. It feels like I'm just going to begin to subscribe to this disease and not care. Yeah , I might feel phony. Yeah, I might end up feeling compromised and dirty and more lost. But I keep asking myself how much longer I can deal with being single and I'm pretty sure I was sick of it months ago. I'm lonely. I'm young. I'm a guy. Its either I conform or keep fighting the good fight and to be honest, I'm tired and defeated and I'm about ready to throw in the fuckin towel....
Agh, story of my life....
Saturday, January 14, 2012
the art of losing everything
I didn't want to write this. Really, I didn't. I've sincerely been trying my hardest to drive my emotions as far away from the deep end as possible these past few months but some days, I still sink. Some where deep inside my self reliant, defiant, fuck you mentality is still a glimmer of healthy and that's what brought me back to the page today. This is my band aid. This is me coping. This is me trying my hardest.
I lost my ring on Thursday. Its not an engagement ring or a family heirloom or anything that has any significant monetary value. Its simply a ring. One that I had bought in Colorado Springs in 2007 and every day since, I've been wearing it on my right index finger. I bought a few rings actually. At one point, I had enough to fill up an entire hand. But things get misplaced and forgotten and stuck in couch crevasses and taken by ex girlfriends so after all those years, this was the only one I had left. I spent five years of my life with this little article of memory on my hand and as I was leaving the locker room Thursday after class, I realized I had completely lost it. I sat there for a minute, trying to retrace my steps. Did it fall out of my locker when I grabbed my clothes? Did I put it in my pocket before I went in the pool? Did someone take it? I spent a good hour asking life guards and staff members if anyone had turned it in. I paced up and down the isle of lockers scanning the ground like a metal detector hoping that maybe, just maybe I had missed it the other 12 times. But after all that searching I came up empty handed. I can't help but think that its still somewhere in my back pack or in a pocket I didnt check but ultimately, I've had to come to terms with the fact that its gone.
I find myself doing this a lot. Searching for remedial parts of myself like they are still relevant or even matter at all but at the end of the day, its just a fucking ring. Its just a phrase or a spoiled friendship or a city you've lived in for far too long. Some times, things just get lost. They fall out of our lifes and never come back and usually, its better that way. I dont know what it is about the simplicity of that, but I cant seem to ever be okay with it. I constantly revisit parts of my past, whether its calling up ex girlfriends because I'm lonely or listening to Trick Daddy reminiscing on 7th grade. Deep down, I know why I dont like loss. I know its because I've lost the one person I've needed the most. The one person who held me at birth and then got lost shortly after. So when days like this come around where another part of me gets donated to memory and lost in all physical sense, I myself feel lost. I feel naked and hateful and I want to rip my teeth out and curse the world for being unfair but all that comes out of it is this. Just one more day of feeling like I've lost a little more of myself.
One thing I've gotten really good at is coping. No matter what the issue is, I can cope. That doesn't mean its always healthy. Some times, I will blatantly avoid any healthy outlet and just get fucked up. But its coping. Its just that right now, I'm not too sure where I am in life. Or more so, what I want out of it. I'm lost on how to cope with that... I wake up every day knowing that today is going to be similar to yesterday and usually yesterday sucked. Hard. And so I tend to find myself in an endless cycle of cope. It doesn't stop. Its just repeating itself like Ground Hogs day and I feel like I'm at the part where Bill Murray is driving cars off cliffs and jumping in front of garbage trucks. Some days, I feel like I'd be okay with that. Others, I just feel like thats ridiculous.
I've lost a lot already in life and I know thats typical for most. Its going to keep happening. A friend of mine once wrote " Everything we gain, we lose"... and I couldn't say it any better. It's just a hard proverb to swallow. So as my hand feels bare and my thumb caresses the side of my hand where the ring used to be, I'm going to try my hardest to forget. Just let go Tim. Fucking let go.
Anyway, I didn't want to write this.
I lost my ring on Thursday. Its not an engagement ring or a family heirloom or anything that has any significant monetary value. Its simply a ring. One that I had bought in Colorado Springs in 2007 and every day since, I've been wearing it on my right index finger. I bought a few rings actually. At one point, I had enough to fill up an entire hand. But things get misplaced and forgotten and stuck in couch crevasses and taken by ex girlfriends so after all those years, this was the only one I had left. I spent five years of my life with this little article of memory on my hand and as I was leaving the locker room Thursday after class, I realized I had completely lost it. I sat there for a minute, trying to retrace my steps. Did it fall out of my locker when I grabbed my clothes? Did I put it in my pocket before I went in the pool? Did someone take it? I spent a good hour asking life guards and staff members if anyone had turned it in. I paced up and down the isle of lockers scanning the ground like a metal detector hoping that maybe, just maybe I had missed it the other 12 times. But after all that searching I came up empty handed. I can't help but think that its still somewhere in my back pack or in a pocket I didnt check but ultimately, I've had to come to terms with the fact that its gone.
I find myself doing this a lot. Searching for remedial parts of myself like they are still relevant or even matter at all but at the end of the day, its just a fucking ring. Its just a phrase or a spoiled friendship or a city you've lived in for far too long. Some times, things just get lost. They fall out of our lifes and never come back and usually, its better that way. I dont know what it is about the simplicity of that, but I cant seem to ever be okay with it. I constantly revisit parts of my past, whether its calling up ex girlfriends because I'm lonely or listening to Trick Daddy reminiscing on 7th grade. Deep down, I know why I dont like loss. I know its because I've lost the one person I've needed the most. The one person who held me at birth and then got lost shortly after. So when days like this come around where another part of me gets donated to memory and lost in all physical sense, I myself feel lost. I feel naked and hateful and I want to rip my teeth out and curse the world for being unfair but all that comes out of it is this. Just one more day of feeling like I've lost a little more of myself.
One thing I've gotten really good at is coping. No matter what the issue is, I can cope. That doesn't mean its always healthy. Some times, I will blatantly avoid any healthy outlet and just get fucked up. But its coping. Its just that right now, I'm not too sure where I am in life. Or more so, what I want out of it. I'm lost on how to cope with that... I wake up every day knowing that today is going to be similar to yesterday and usually yesterday sucked. Hard. And so I tend to find myself in an endless cycle of cope. It doesn't stop. Its just repeating itself like Ground Hogs day and I feel like I'm at the part where Bill Murray is driving cars off cliffs and jumping in front of garbage trucks. Some days, I feel like I'd be okay with that. Others, I just feel like thats ridiculous.
I've lost a lot already in life and I know thats typical for most. Its going to keep happening. A friend of mine once wrote " Everything we gain, we lose"... and I couldn't say it any better. It's just a hard proverb to swallow. So as my hand feels bare and my thumb caresses the side of my hand where the ring used to be, I'm going to try my hardest to forget. Just let go Tim. Fucking let go.
Anyway, I didn't want to write this.
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Bringing in 2012 with a new poem
Art is a process.
It's not a two step thing,
a class and an exam,
a question and an answer.
There is no beginning or end.
So thats why I like to think of it as a seed.
See, in the spring
we dig little holes and place little particles of
life that will return itself back to us
or
continue to grow up big and strong.
There is no destiny for most sprouting plants.
There is no map to plot out the height or
the amount of branches it will have or
to even know where it will be in 20 years.
So when I hear professors and professionals talking
about the perfection in Michelangelo's strokes and how
pristine the Sistine Chapel's ceiling is and
how
no one can ever emulate or recreate the beauty etched
into the finger tips of his angels,
I always wonder if they know.
If they know
that art
is never finished.
It is simply a work in progress.
See, even Michelangelo felt unsatisfied.
He started over so many times that the initial piece of work
was never what it turned out to be.
To us,
that is beauty.
To us,
that is meaning.
To us that is a story and
so many of us walk through life thinking
ours isn't even comparable.
Even bearable.
Even the first leaf on a tree in mid April
but recently
I've understood that him and me have more in common than you think.
See, I used to be an addict.
I used to paint my days using finger tips crusted with
the residue of yesterdays heroin,
left traces of morphine in every word that splattered against
sympathetic ear drums and with them,
the scars of watching a loved one erase themselves.
Stenciling what was left of me into seeds that I'd be planting
for 6 years of my life
and by the time I turned 23,
I was surrounded by forests.
Covered by red woods too tall to see over,
to chop down,
and some just tall enough to keep others from seeing me
at all.
But one day
I put down my paint brushes.
I laid down on my scaffolding and looked up at the art work
I had been massacring and decided
it was finally time to start over.
See, I am a work in progress.
I am built from botched blue prints and bad choices,
from narcotics that put most users under ground but I
I refuse to replant that decision.
And even though I haven't pick up another pill,
or gone back to inserting dirty dollar bills into my nose,
some days
I still drink myself to sleep.
I still smoke away my anxiety and
caffeinate my mornings because
theres never really an end.
There is no map to plot out where I will be in 20 years,
or how many branches I'll loose along the way.
All there's left is this process,
this constant beginning and to me
this is beauty.
This is meaning.
This is my story and even though most might look at me as an addict,
I just see Michelangelo.
It's not a two step thing,
a class and an exam,
a question and an answer.
There is no beginning or end.
So thats why I like to think of it as a seed.
See, in the spring
we dig little holes and place little particles of
life that will return itself back to us
or
continue to grow up big and strong.
There is no destiny for most sprouting plants.
There is no map to plot out the height or
the amount of branches it will have or
to even know where it will be in 20 years.
So when I hear professors and professionals talking
about the perfection in Michelangelo's strokes and how
pristine the Sistine Chapel's ceiling is and
how
no one can ever emulate or recreate the beauty etched
into the finger tips of his angels,
I always wonder if they know.
If they know
that art
is never finished.
It is simply a work in progress.
See, even Michelangelo felt unsatisfied.
He started over so many times that the initial piece of work
was never what it turned out to be.
To us,
that is beauty.
To us,
that is meaning.
To us that is a story and
so many of us walk through life thinking
ours isn't even comparable.
Even bearable.
Even the first leaf on a tree in mid April
but recently
I've understood that him and me have more in common than you think.
See, I used to be an addict.
I used to paint my days using finger tips crusted with
the residue of yesterdays heroin,
left traces of morphine in every word that splattered against
sympathetic ear drums and with them,
the scars of watching a loved one erase themselves.
Stenciling what was left of me into seeds that I'd be planting
for 6 years of my life
and by the time I turned 23,
I was surrounded by forests.
Covered by red woods too tall to see over,
to chop down,
and some just tall enough to keep others from seeing me
at all.
But one day
I put down my paint brushes.
I laid down on my scaffolding and looked up at the art work
I had been massacring and decided
it was finally time to start over.
See, I am a work in progress.
I am built from botched blue prints and bad choices,
from narcotics that put most users under ground but I
I refuse to replant that decision.
And even though I haven't pick up another pill,
or gone back to inserting dirty dollar bills into my nose,
some days
I still drink myself to sleep.
I still smoke away my anxiety and
caffeinate my mornings because
theres never really an end.
There is no map to plot out where I will be in 20 years,
or how many branches I'll loose along the way.
All there's left is this process,
this constant beginning and to me
this is beauty.
This is meaning.
This is my story and even though most might look at me as an addict,
I just see Michelangelo.
Sunday, January 1, 2012
New Year
First off, Happy New Year. I'm sure you've been told enough for it to not resonate even a little bit but I figured I'd branch out and tell you anyway. Its going to be a good year. I feel it in my stomach. That has to mean something.
Tonight was exactly what a New Years Eve should be. It was spontaneous. It was new. It was something I've always wished for the balls to do but never nutted up to try.
I had to work tonight. I know, it was some bullshit. It was 7 hours of constant dishes and nonstop disappointment. With a 3 hour buffet, and a numerous amount of dick headed comments, I just had a hunch that tonight I was going to quit. I told myself before hand that I was going to go in to work knowing that I was going to leave jobless. I just knew it. Maybe because the damn place wasn't paying me what they told me they would. Maybe it was because I didn't want to work till 4 on a holiday for less than I was promised to be payed. Who knows. But either way, I knew tonight I was going to have to make some decisions that were going to directly effect my financial well being, as well as my character.
At around 11, I told the other dish washer that if they let him go any time soon, I was going to walk out. I hear things like this a lot. People threatening to stick up for themselves and fail to follow through or just acting hard for the sake of saving face. But after the employment I've had with this company, I wasn't blowing hot air. This time, my words were solid. They were printed into the destiny that would become 2012 and I knew, deep down, that I would fucking walk out when I damn well felt like it and no one was going to stop me. I sat down to have a cigarette.
' This is some bull shit. I'm about to start drinking, my back is killing me.'
' Yeah, I dont blame you man.'
' I have a deuce in my back pack. I'm just going to start right now and say fuck it.'
I went inside and quickly got my beer. I didn't care at this point. It was 11 and I had plans at 10 and now I was sitting in desolate, filthy kitchen with 3 hours worth of dishes to do. If I was going to stick this out, I was going to do it hammered or at least drinking. This was no way to bring in a New Year.
Right then, two girls stammered into the kitten. Lace, black dresses. High heels, no taller than 5'4 with ridiculous legs and obviously drunk. They smiled at me.
' Hi!'
'... Hi... you'
The bath rooms were stacked with a line out the door so they had come into the kitchen to use ours. I'm sure their looks helped. They opened the door and I turned my head.
' Hey... your sexy'
'...Thanks...'
I laughed. That kind of caught me off guard seeing how I was wearing grimy ass clothes, a chefs coat and 3 aprons. However, I wasn't going to question that. It definitely made me feel good.
About 10 minutes later, they stumbled into the kitchen again to use the bathroom.
'Sexy dishwasher!' they said.
' Ha... hi again.'
'Your way too sexy to be doing dishes back here tonight.'
'Yeah, you should be , like, doing dished naked.'
'Or at least with your shirt off'
' Oh.. should I?'
'Yeah, definitely.'
I'm not too good with compliments. I wish I was. I wish I would have lifted my shirt up or done something macho but instead, I acted really naive and coy. As they walked out of the kitchen, I realized that I really should not be in there. It was 11:45. Everyone who I'm friends with was 15 yards away from me, with drinks in their hands, dressed all nice and enjoying the bars. This wasn't how I was going to bring in a new year. This was how I spent the past two months of my life but not tonight. I took my aprons off and told the other dish washer that I was going to take a break.
'Man, fuck this. I'm done. I'm going to take like an hour break and I'll be back at 12:30. If Scott says shit, just tell him I'm out front. I'll come help you out afterward I guess.'
I hurried to the back, changed my clothes and sprayed an enormous amount of axe to smell better than dish water and made my way back to the bars. On the way out, the two girls were there grabbing champagne and shots for each other.
'Sexy dishwasher! Here, take one.'
They handed me a glass and took a shot with me. I smiled. Being that it was loud and completely awesome these two sexy ass chicks were talking to me like that, I simply took the shot and went on through out the bar looking for my friends without thinking twice about the opportunity that just fell into my lap. I guess I'm that guy. I'll regret it tomorrow.
I searched for my boys for a minute. It took a while to find all of them but after the ball dropped and I randomly spent the last seconds of 2011 on a cluttered dance floor with some black dude with my hand in the air screaming, I stumbled across them. They were all dressed in ties and fucking vests and weird random fancy accessories that I just didn't have the time for, or the care. I looked fine. That was good enough.
We drank and talked to aimless amounts of strange people. It was beginning to look a lot like every other night out except with 3000 more people and less interacting. I made my way back to the kitchen to see how much work still had to be done.
'Tim!? Are you here?'
' Uh... yeah, I'm going to clock back in why?'
'Your done man.'
'What do you mean I'm done, like I'm fired?'
' Yup'
'... Okay, right on.'
I said bye to the people that mattered to me and continued on with my night. Eventually, the night came to an end and there we were, stranded at a bar with past co workers and people who I met through someone who I met and we had to find a ride home through all of the haze and nonsense.
We made our way to the parking lot across from the bars. Standing there between some cars were two guys. One, scrawny with glasses and a 2003 Tommy Hilfiger polo and the other, about 6'1 wearing some long sleeve stripped shirt. They said Happy New Year but afterward, called all three of us faggots. My boy stopped and looked at them, asking them what they said. I stopped and turned around.
'You heard me, I called you guys faggots.'
'Oh really? We're faggots huh? Better watch your god damn mouth,' my boy said.
We were with this one chick, who I didn't know but one of my friends did. She came rushed in.
'You guys are better than this! Stop. Lets go.'
I looked at the curb, pointing out the cop car and said,
'Dude, were in front of cops you dick head. The fuck is wrong with you?'
He looked over at us and said,
'Good thing you got that bitch with you to protect you from getting hurt. All that big talk for little guys, we'll fuck you up.'
Mind you, were all pretty small. My boy is my height, maybe a little taller and my other friend is maybe 5'9. However, were all fighters. Tall or not, we know what to do with our hands. And this girl who he called a bitch wasn't just some girl. She was my friends girl. Not just some chick we were with, but his girl. She turned around from trying to stop us and started stepping towards the dudes talking shit.
'Oh, I'm a bitch!?'
Out of no where, my friend popped out from behind me and stuck the dude in the throat. Kind of an awkward punch. Mainly because he was drunk but also because he hit him in the bottom of the jaw. Then, my boy stepped up and hit him in the face. The guy fell. The guy in the glasses stood there against a car and just watched as I jumped on the guys back and began to choke him. He through me off. Right then, a bouncer from the bar across the street ran over and punched my boy in the face. Then a cop came. I picked up my back pack, put my coat over my head and walked the other way.
I'm not going to lie, we jumped him. It was totally unfair but at the same time, he should not have been talking to us like that. Especially if he didn't know if his friend would back him up or not. Small or not, you dont ever talk shit to 3 people. Never. It just never ends up right.
Anyway, we got back home safe. I have some scratches on my hands, elbow and shoulder and my boy is going to have quite the shiner but all in all, it was a good night. I did something most dont have the guts to do. I stood up for myself, in both situations. I walked out on a job that wasn't paying me what they promised. I backed up my word and my boys. I got in a fight after years of not fighting. Even though most of this sounds delinquent, it still felt good to do something I'm not comfortable with. A lot of people can walk through life complacent with getting bitched at and talked down to and not respected. A lot of people can walk around thinking they can't defend themselves if they need to or more so, wouldn't if they had to. I did both. I stood up. I said fuck you. And I acted, instead of talked.
This is a new me. This is a new year. This is my new voice. Bring it on 2012. I'm ready.
Tonight was exactly what a New Years Eve should be. It was spontaneous. It was new. It was something I've always wished for the balls to do but never nutted up to try.
I had to work tonight. I know, it was some bullshit. It was 7 hours of constant dishes and nonstop disappointment. With a 3 hour buffet, and a numerous amount of dick headed comments, I just had a hunch that tonight I was going to quit. I told myself before hand that I was going to go in to work knowing that I was going to leave jobless. I just knew it. Maybe because the damn place wasn't paying me what they told me they would. Maybe it was because I didn't want to work till 4 on a holiday for less than I was promised to be payed. Who knows. But either way, I knew tonight I was going to have to make some decisions that were going to directly effect my financial well being, as well as my character.
At around 11, I told the other dish washer that if they let him go any time soon, I was going to walk out. I hear things like this a lot. People threatening to stick up for themselves and fail to follow through or just acting hard for the sake of saving face. But after the employment I've had with this company, I wasn't blowing hot air. This time, my words were solid. They were printed into the destiny that would become 2012 and I knew, deep down, that I would fucking walk out when I damn well felt like it and no one was going to stop me. I sat down to have a cigarette.
' This is some bull shit. I'm about to start drinking, my back is killing me.'
' Yeah, I dont blame you man.'
' I have a deuce in my back pack. I'm just going to start right now and say fuck it.'
I went inside and quickly got my beer. I didn't care at this point. It was 11 and I had plans at 10 and now I was sitting in desolate, filthy kitchen with 3 hours worth of dishes to do. If I was going to stick this out, I was going to do it hammered or at least drinking. This was no way to bring in a New Year.
Right then, two girls stammered into the kitten. Lace, black dresses. High heels, no taller than 5'4 with ridiculous legs and obviously drunk. They smiled at me.
' Hi!'
'... Hi... you'
The bath rooms were stacked with a line out the door so they had come into the kitchen to use ours. I'm sure their looks helped. They opened the door and I turned my head.
' Hey... your sexy'
'...Thanks...'
I laughed. That kind of caught me off guard seeing how I was wearing grimy ass clothes, a chefs coat and 3 aprons. However, I wasn't going to question that. It definitely made me feel good.
About 10 minutes later, they stumbled into the kitchen again to use the bathroom.
'Sexy dishwasher!' they said.
' Ha... hi again.'
'Your way too sexy to be doing dishes back here tonight.'
'Yeah, you should be , like, doing dished naked.'
'Or at least with your shirt off'
' Oh.. should I?'
'Yeah, definitely.'
I'm not too good with compliments. I wish I was. I wish I would have lifted my shirt up or done something macho but instead, I acted really naive and coy. As they walked out of the kitchen, I realized that I really should not be in there. It was 11:45. Everyone who I'm friends with was 15 yards away from me, with drinks in their hands, dressed all nice and enjoying the bars. This wasn't how I was going to bring in a new year. This was how I spent the past two months of my life but not tonight. I took my aprons off and told the other dish washer that I was going to take a break.
'Man, fuck this. I'm done. I'm going to take like an hour break and I'll be back at 12:30. If Scott says shit, just tell him I'm out front. I'll come help you out afterward I guess.'
I hurried to the back, changed my clothes and sprayed an enormous amount of axe to smell better than dish water and made my way back to the bars. On the way out, the two girls were there grabbing champagne and shots for each other.
'Sexy dishwasher! Here, take one.'
They handed me a glass and took a shot with me. I smiled. Being that it was loud and completely awesome these two sexy ass chicks were talking to me like that, I simply took the shot and went on through out the bar looking for my friends without thinking twice about the opportunity that just fell into my lap. I guess I'm that guy. I'll regret it tomorrow.
I searched for my boys for a minute. It took a while to find all of them but after the ball dropped and I randomly spent the last seconds of 2011 on a cluttered dance floor with some black dude with my hand in the air screaming, I stumbled across them. They were all dressed in ties and fucking vests and weird random fancy accessories that I just didn't have the time for, or the care. I looked fine. That was good enough.
We drank and talked to aimless amounts of strange people. It was beginning to look a lot like every other night out except with 3000 more people and less interacting. I made my way back to the kitchen to see how much work still had to be done.
'Tim!? Are you here?'
' Uh... yeah, I'm going to clock back in why?'
'Your done man.'
'What do you mean I'm done, like I'm fired?'
' Yup'
'... Okay, right on.'
I said bye to the people that mattered to me and continued on with my night. Eventually, the night came to an end and there we were, stranded at a bar with past co workers and people who I met through someone who I met and we had to find a ride home through all of the haze and nonsense.
We made our way to the parking lot across from the bars. Standing there between some cars were two guys. One, scrawny with glasses and a 2003 Tommy Hilfiger polo and the other, about 6'1 wearing some long sleeve stripped shirt. They said Happy New Year but afterward, called all three of us faggots. My boy stopped and looked at them, asking them what they said. I stopped and turned around.
'You heard me, I called you guys faggots.'
'Oh really? We're faggots huh? Better watch your god damn mouth,' my boy said.
We were with this one chick, who I didn't know but one of my friends did. She came rushed in.
'You guys are better than this! Stop. Lets go.'
I looked at the curb, pointing out the cop car and said,
'Dude, were in front of cops you dick head. The fuck is wrong with you?'
He looked over at us and said,
'Good thing you got that bitch with you to protect you from getting hurt. All that big talk for little guys, we'll fuck you up.'
Mind you, were all pretty small. My boy is my height, maybe a little taller and my other friend is maybe 5'9. However, were all fighters. Tall or not, we know what to do with our hands. And this girl who he called a bitch wasn't just some girl. She was my friends girl. Not just some chick we were with, but his girl. She turned around from trying to stop us and started stepping towards the dudes talking shit.
'Oh, I'm a bitch!?'
Out of no where, my friend popped out from behind me and stuck the dude in the throat. Kind of an awkward punch. Mainly because he was drunk but also because he hit him in the bottom of the jaw. Then, my boy stepped up and hit him in the face. The guy fell. The guy in the glasses stood there against a car and just watched as I jumped on the guys back and began to choke him. He through me off. Right then, a bouncer from the bar across the street ran over and punched my boy in the face. Then a cop came. I picked up my back pack, put my coat over my head and walked the other way.
I'm not going to lie, we jumped him. It was totally unfair but at the same time, he should not have been talking to us like that. Especially if he didn't know if his friend would back him up or not. Small or not, you dont ever talk shit to 3 people. Never. It just never ends up right.
Anyway, we got back home safe. I have some scratches on my hands, elbow and shoulder and my boy is going to have quite the shiner but all in all, it was a good night. I did something most dont have the guts to do. I stood up for myself, in both situations. I walked out on a job that wasn't paying me what they promised. I backed up my word and my boys. I got in a fight after years of not fighting. Even though most of this sounds delinquent, it still felt good to do something I'm not comfortable with. A lot of people can walk through life complacent with getting bitched at and talked down to and not respected. A lot of people can walk around thinking they can't defend themselves if they need to or more so, wouldn't if they had to. I did both. I stood up. I said fuck you. And I acted, instead of talked.
This is a new me. This is a new year. This is my new voice. Bring it on 2012. I'm ready.
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