Not having a car really sucks balls. Anyone reading this crap should know - public transportation sucks ass.
I miss my car.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Saturday, August 14, 2010
That Night
Depending on the perspective, it was either late in the evening or early in the morning. The light of the moon slipped through the blinds, giving everything in eye shot a pin-striped glow.
Underneath the blankets, we were still awake but only barely. I could hear the ticking of something.. the clock?.. over our whispering. In fact, I could hear the world standing still and the moonlight breaking through the windows. You were saying something to me and then you said, "if I asked, would you stay?"
In that instant, the world shifted. My world. The ticking ticked ticked ticked slower and slower. Its vibration became longer and longer, its pitch lower and lower. It was like one of those slow-motion scenes where the drop of sweat fell ever so slowly down the protagonist's face as he lost the final, epic battle. I had to think even though I knew what I was going to say. Had to say. My mouth was beginning to speak even before I had the chance to process all of the possible outcomes.
Tom Leykis be damned for that very moment.
"No," I uttered. "I can't."
The words left me before I even knew what I was doing. Deep within me, I wanted to stay. I needed to stay. Yet, the boy who wanted to be a man had to prove a point. It was a 'no' all the way round. I had to go. I couldn't stay. I couldn't be seen as weak and needy. But I wanted to. I wanted to say 'yes, I will stay' and sleep under the warm covers in that starkly cold room. I wanted to lay next to your warm body and watch you grind your teeth as you slept. I wanted the world to shift back somehow.
That night, or morning, depending upon perspective, I gathered my things and left.
Regrets....
Underneath the blankets, we were still awake but only barely. I could hear the ticking of something.. the clock?.. over our whispering. In fact, I could hear the world standing still and the moonlight breaking through the windows. You were saying something to me and then you said, "if I asked, would you stay?"
In that instant, the world shifted. My world. The ticking ticked ticked ticked slower and slower. Its vibration became longer and longer, its pitch lower and lower. It was like one of those slow-motion scenes where the drop of sweat fell ever so slowly down the protagonist's face as he lost the final, epic battle. I had to think even though I knew what I was going to say. Had to say. My mouth was beginning to speak even before I had the chance to process all of the possible outcomes.
Tom Leykis be damned for that very moment.
"No," I uttered. "I can't."
The words left me before I even knew what I was doing. Deep within me, I wanted to stay. I needed to stay. Yet, the boy who wanted to be a man had to prove a point. It was a 'no' all the way round. I had to go. I couldn't stay. I couldn't be seen as weak and needy. But I wanted to. I wanted to say 'yes, I will stay' and sleep under the warm covers in that starkly cold room. I wanted to lay next to your warm body and watch you grind your teeth as you slept. I wanted the world to shift back somehow.
That night, or morning, depending upon perspective, I gathered my things and left.
Regrets....
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Me vs I. Is there a difference?
I've been up late at night thinking about whether or not reincarnation is real. Part of this deals with the concepts Me and I. Are they different? Yes. They are.
At least, I think they are. It's very difficult to conceptualize this in words. However, I did start with the dictionary. Well, Dictionary.com that is.
I've cut all the superfluous crap out. For I:
–noun
3. Metaphysics . the ego.
For Me:
-pronoun
1. the objective case of I, used as a direct or indirect object: They asked me to the party. Give me your hand.
So, what do Me and I have to do with reincarnation? They, specifically, don't. It's their concepts (the ones I'm trying to articulate) that do.
You still with me? Good. More later.
At least, I think they are. It's very difficult to conceptualize this in words. However, I did start with the dictionary. Well, Dictionary.com that is.
I've cut all the superfluous crap out. For I:
–noun
3. Metaphysics . the ego.
For Me:
-pronoun
1. the objective case of I, used as a direct or indirect object: They asked me to the party. Give me your hand.
So, what do Me and I have to do with reincarnation? They, specifically, don't. It's their concepts (the ones I'm trying to articulate) that do.
You still with me? Good. More later.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
I Write Like....
orly?
I write like
David Foster Wallace
David Foster Wallace
I Write Like by Mémoires, Mac journal software. Analyze your writing!
I understand Mr. Wallace was a writing genius. I, however, am not.
I wonder how many other writers I'm like? I thought it'd be fun to submit samples at a new website called I Write Like. You can find it at http://iwl.me/.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Happy endings
I hate happy endings. They always ruin a good movie.
Love: HIGH FIDELITY.
Hate: Happy ending. Fuck that!
John Cusack, you're a god.
Love: HIGH FIDELITY.
Hate: Happy ending. Fuck that!
John Cusack, you're a god.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
A nice drive..
It was one of those days. Finals were over and I had nothing better to do. I didn't want to go home; anything's better than going back home. So down the the 5 freeway it was. I didn't really plan on it and I didn't know where I was going.
As I navigated through six o'clock traffic, I was summarizing an idea I had for a book. No, a script. No, a book. And, it was going to be about gambling. It would start with, "Chips!" Yes, that's how it would start.
Six o'clock traffic going southbound on the 5 freeway and I didn't want to go to Disneyland. It's the place I always gravitated to when I wanted to get away from it all. It is Fantasyland afterall.
I kept on going.
What to do, what to do? Southbound to the 133 interchange. Then southbound towards Laguna Beach.
I haven't been to Laguna Beach in a few years. Not since that morning when I left her sleeping in her bed. I can't even remember what she looked like. Crumpled up in those covers, maybe? I do remember that the room was cold and the light of the sun was trying to break in through those bamboo-style blinds. I tiptoed out, put my pants on and grabbed my shoes. I looked over the apartment one last time and I left, knowing I'd never see her again.
The drive up the 133 was surreal. I half expected to pull alongside her dingy white Suburu at any moment. I looked in each car I passed thinking maybe she traded that piece of shit in for something new. Maybe I'd get a glimpse of her looking in a rearview mirror or, maybe, I'd see her staring at me, bewildered.
Because summer is so close, the late afternoon sun was still high enough to cast its commanding orange glow over the canyons flanking the highway. I hadn't really noticed them before but... the canyons were gorgeous. Ansel Adams be damned for not shooting them.
Nothing had changed. It looked exactly how I remembered it. The 133 ended right at the beach. Tourists on their bikes, couples hand-in-hand and the The Beach cast member wanna-be's in their Benzes and BMWs were all up and down PacCoast Highway. The white sand against a blue sky. The smell of salty air and fond memories.
I made a right and kept driving; past her street, past the Indian restaurant we once ate, past Crystal Cove. I didn't have a plan. I just kept driving.
I remembered that morning as I drove home. Remembering how disappointed I was, how sad I was. It was the perfect start of a new year, a new beginning. I could recall there being alcohol on my breath. And bicyclists.
I entered Newport Beach, remembering other memories. And then it was back onto the 55 freeway and back to the 5.
It was a drive that passed the time while allowing me to revisit the past.
"Chips!"
I like it.
As I navigated through six o'clock traffic, I was summarizing an idea I had for a book. No, a script. No, a book. And, it was going to be about gambling. It would start with, "Chips!" Yes, that's how it would start.
Six o'clock traffic going southbound on the 5 freeway and I didn't want to go to Disneyland. It's the place I always gravitated to when I wanted to get away from it all. It is Fantasyland afterall.
I kept on going.
What to do, what to do? Southbound to the 133 interchange. Then southbound towards Laguna Beach.
I haven't been to Laguna Beach in a few years. Not since that morning when I left her sleeping in her bed. I can't even remember what she looked like. Crumpled up in those covers, maybe? I do remember that the room was cold and the light of the sun was trying to break in through those bamboo-style blinds. I tiptoed out, put my pants on and grabbed my shoes. I looked over the apartment one last time and I left, knowing I'd never see her again.
The drive up the 133 was surreal. I half expected to pull alongside her dingy white Suburu at any moment. I looked in each car I passed thinking maybe she traded that piece of shit in for something new. Maybe I'd get a glimpse of her looking in a rearview mirror or, maybe, I'd see her staring at me, bewildered.
Because summer is so close, the late afternoon sun was still high enough to cast its commanding orange glow over the canyons flanking the highway. I hadn't really noticed them before but... the canyons were gorgeous. Ansel Adams be damned for not shooting them.
Nothing had changed. It looked exactly how I remembered it. The 133 ended right at the beach. Tourists on their bikes, couples hand-in-hand and the The Beach cast member wanna-be's in their Benzes and BMWs were all up and down PacCoast Highway. The white sand against a blue sky. The smell of salty air and fond memories.
I made a right and kept driving; past her street, past the Indian restaurant we once ate, past Crystal Cove. I didn't have a plan. I just kept driving.
I remembered that morning as I drove home. Remembering how disappointed I was, how sad I was. It was the perfect start of a new year, a new beginning. I could recall there being alcohol on my breath. And bicyclists.
I entered Newport Beach, remembering other memories. And then it was back onto the 55 freeway and back to the 5.
It was a drive that passed the time while allowing me to revisit the past.
"Chips!"
I like it.
Saturday, May 08, 2010
The Past Forming the Future
I've done some really amazing things in the past and had been pondering them for, maybe, the past week. Today, while I was taking a drive (I could've walked faster) out to the Valley I realized that those things I've done had been willed; I consciously made them happen. And, while they were happening, there was nothing that could get in the way of them happening.
So it got me to thinking. Can I do that again? Can I make the things I want really happen?
I've become bitter. In the past few years, I've gotten into this rut that has left me utterly negative. I think everyone is negative to a point but if negativity was an art form, I'd be Picasso, Rembrandt and Michelangelo all rolled into one. I've tried to be positive. I've gone through those stages asking the Universe to answer my calls of need and want (it's absurd, the Secret and the Law of Attraction). But, I've always reverted back to that which I was most comfortable. Times are changing however and I'm becoming more desperate. I'm in need of some serious change in my life. I guess this is as good a time and place as any to make it, right?
Right.
In the car, on the freeway, with an 80's movie soundtrack blaring (I won't name it for reasons only I should know), I began to recite positive affirmations to myself. Over and over again. I need to make things happen. And that is the start to the change I need.
Picture that change in your head and you move towards that change. That isn't the Law of Attraction. That's common sense.
So let's see what happens. Stay tuned, kids.
So it got me to thinking. Can I do that again? Can I make the things I want really happen?
I've become bitter. In the past few years, I've gotten into this rut that has left me utterly negative. I think everyone is negative to a point but if negativity was an art form, I'd be Picasso, Rembrandt and Michelangelo all rolled into one. I've tried to be positive. I've gone through those stages asking the Universe to answer my calls of need and want (it's absurd, the Secret and the Law of Attraction). But, I've always reverted back to that which I was most comfortable. Times are changing however and I'm becoming more desperate. I'm in need of some serious change in my life. I guess this is as good a time and place as any to make it, right?
Right.
In the car, on the freeway, with an 80's movie soundtrack blaring (I won't name it for reasons only I should know), I began to recite positive affirmations to myself. Over and over again. I need to make things happen. And that is the start to the change I need.
Picture that change in your head and you move towards that change. That isn't the Law of Attraction. That's common sense.
So let's see what happens. Stay tuned, kids.
Thursday, April 08, 2010
Tiger, Schmiger.. Who really cares?
So when they continued asking him, he lifted up himself, and said unto them, He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her.John 8:7
I'm not be the best person to quote scripture, nor am I the best person to speak about morality but this thing about Tiger Woods... it had me thinking. I quoted the bible passage I thought would be the most appropriate, because, who really has the right to judge Tiger anyway? What's more important, I think, is... who really cares?
As I listened to commentators who were covering the Masters saying how Tiger is this and Tiger is that, one of them had mentioned that Tiger is a role model. Really? A role model? Last time I checked, he was a golfer. One of the best in the world, but still a golfer. He hits a little white, dimpled ball into a hole. Eighteen of them. And, he gets paid for it. A lot. On top of that, he has endorsements (not as many as he used to but.. he still has Nike! See his latest ad?) that keep him in the chips. Nowhere within that job description does it say role model. And, I don't think he ever wanted to be a role model. He was pushed to become who he is today, by his father, by his peers and probably by himself. He is where is he is because he worked for it. But, the label of 'role model' was given to him by millions of people who feel his job is to lead by example.
So, when he was found to be a cheating, home-wrecking sex addict (who, by the way, has poor taste in women. What's up with that Tiger? Seriously?), all of a sudden he was thrust into another world; the world of temporary outcast. Within this world, one is placed upon another pedestal; a pedestal of rejection and ridicule.
Oh, I know that place very well. But, I'm not a billionaire golfer who can come back to the world by playing at the Masters. It took me a long time to shed my disgrace. It won't be that long for people to forget Tiger's inappropriate behaviour, especially if he wins.
People don't care. I sure don't. Not because I fooled with the devil's lust but because I don't hold Tiger to that of a role model. I don't see him as an example for children and goody goods. I see him as a man who is good at what he does and extremely lucky to be paid for it. I'd love to be able to make millions in things I like to do and am good at. But, I don't think playing online roleplaying games will ever pan out and I'm certainly not pornstar material. Tiger is what he is, a damn good golfer who loves teh sex0rz. Don't hold him to a higher standard because he's in the public eye. And certainly don't judge him because he's a dirty boy. Judge him on his short game, if you must, but who are you to judge him on his personal life? He who is without sin, remember? I'm not even a Christian and I understand the passage.
At this, those who heard began to go away one at a time, the older ones first, until only Jesus was left, with the woman still standing there.
John 8:9
Go away. Leave Tiger to do what he needs to do. I'm tired of hearing about it and, I'm sure, many others are, too.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Break ups are hard to do
...especially over the phone.
It's not that I would do something like that. She called me. And, get this this, she told me that I was hiding something.. that I wasn't being forthright and that I was ashamed of her.
Well, maybe.. at least one of those is true. I was hiding something, but it didn't concern her.
I can't help that she had issues, that she had an esteem issue. But, this isn't all my doing. I don't know how it took her this long to figure out that I wasn't about to commit. Nonetheless, she did.
She can now pine/mourn/think about her dead fiance, Kevin. And I can move on..
I don't know if she realized it or not, but both she and I were rebounds anyway.
On the flipside.. as I write this, a small group of Disney Castmember homos are talking about guys they've dated or worked with.. Puhleeze.. I don't need to over-hear about the fuckers you've dated.. Small fish in a big pond.. thinking they're the shit or something.. Retards.
It's not that I would do something like that. She called me. And, get this this, she told me that I was hiding something.. that I wasn't being forthright and that I was ashamed of her.
Well, maybe.. at least one of those is true. I was hiding something, but it didn't concern her.
I can't help that she had issues, that she had an esteem issue. But, this isn't all my doing. I don't know how it took her this long to figure out that I wasn't about to commit. Nonetheless, she did.
She can now pine/mourn/think about her dead fiance, Kevin. And I can move on..
I don't know if she realized it or not, but both she and I were rebounds anyway.
On the flipside.. as I write this, a small group of Disney Castmember homos are talking about guys they've dated or worked with.. Puhleeze.. I don't need to over-hear about the fuckers you've dated.. Small fish in a big pond.. thinking they're the shit or something.. Retards.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Friday, January 08, 2010
If...
If there were a higher power, we as a people would not deserve its forgiveness, its salvation, its potential rewards.
We, as a people, are evil creatures. We deserve the opposite of any idea of heaven. We deserve to burn.
Just sayin'...
We, as a people, are evil creatures. We deserve the opposite of any idea of heaven. We deserve to burn.
Just sayin'...
Saturday, December 19, 2009
Christmas Time.. is here..
Happiness and cheer!
Oh, joy. Christmas. Another year and another bowl of eggnog. Ick! I have to say, they're not getting any better.
It seems Christmas came earlier this year. When did it become part of the Halloween marketing plan? I don't know, but I think there are people out there that really need the money. A Hershey Kiss under the mistletoe? Or maybe a Mars bar? Funny.
Give me a cup a cocoa and my moon-worshipping apparatuses and I think I shall be set. Little moon-shaped marshmallows would fall under that category, I'd say.
Well, Merry Christmas to all of you who have your pretty, green tree up; to those who have their stockings hung by the fire; to those who have placed their cookies and milk out for Santa.
Oh, joy. Christmas. Another year and another bowl of eggnog. Ick! I have to say, they're not getting any better.
It seems Christmas came earlier this year. When did it become part of the Halloween marketing plan? I don't know, but I think there are people out there that really need the money. A Hershey Kiss under the mistletoe? Or maybe a Mars bar? Funny.
Give me a cup a cocoa and my moon-worshipping apparatuses and I think I shall be set. Little moon-shaped marshmallows would fall under that category, I'd say.
Well, Merry Christmas to all of you who have your pretty, green tree up; to those who have their stockings hung by the fire; to those who have placed their cookies and milk out for Santa.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
I have...
I have:
10+ books to finish.
A half-filled bottle of Jack.. which isn't so half-filled anymore.
Approximately 3 more weeks of the semester left.
A paper to write for my Religious Studies class that's due on Monday. It's Thursday. Night.
No job.
No desire to find one.
A woman whom I've been dating that I have absolutely no feelings for.
No idea how she feels about me.
A strong desire to end our relationship.
Fear that I will hurt her.
A strong desire to go to LMU for a Masters in Philosophy.
No clue how I will get there.
A need to call someone.
A feeling it's a bad idea.
A curiosity nonetheless.
No desire to continue on in the position I'm in.
A duty to myself to do so.
10+ books to finish.
A half-filled bottle of Jack.. which isn't so half-filled anymore.
Approximately 3 more weeks of the semester left.
A paper to write for my Religious Studies class that's due on Monday. It's Thursday. Night.
No job.
No desire to find one.
A woman whom I've been dating that I have absolutely no feelings for.
No idea how she feels about me.
A strong desire to end our relationship.
Fear that I will hurt her.
A strong desire to go to LMU for a Masters in Philosophy.
No clue how I will get there.
A need to call someone.
A feeling it's a bad idea.
A curiosity nonetheless.
No desire to continue on in the position I'm in.
A duty to myself to do so.
Friday, October 16, 2009
Tuesday, August 04, 2009
It's so hot.. I'm delirious..
Movies are like drugs. If it's good, it will take you to a different place, give you feelings that you normally wouldn't have, direct thought processes onto different paths and give you an experience that, without it, wouldn't have probably happened. And, just like drugs, they don't last very long and they're expensive (even the mantinees these days are too high).
I saw 500 DAYS OF SUMMER today and it offered some insight into what I think are parallels to just a portion of my life. Unfortunately, movie endings rarely occur in real life. But it did reiterate what I've always believed. Fate doesn't exist. Everything is coincidence. And the universe doesn't answer requests. One thing is for sure - I loved the film.
So I was listening to some black guy talking about black youth, how they are sometimes oppressed and how they're not the cause for their misfortune, unlike what the president seemed to have indicated (rough paraphrase of what this man had alluded to). There's a revolution in order, I came to understand. A revolution. We must all rise up and change the system, because the system is broken.
We're beyond revolution. In this day and age, revolution is no longer a viable option. Not for us in this country. Not for this age. Why? I'll tell you why.
We, as a population, are too complacent, too lazy, too distracted to care. I think we, as a nation, as a people, think that just electing a black president was revolution enough. Oh what a scam that was.
Revolutions are for the tired and idealistic. Revolutions are for people who want real change but are willing to sacrifice something for it. The people of these great United States, they don't want change; they want lip service. They want to be told that everything is okay, regardless of how fucked up everything is around them. As long as they hear it's okay, they'll believe it. There was a quote I remember from a Michael Douglas film where he played the president.
Well, we're drinking sand, people, but not because we're so desperate for leadership. We're just too stupid to realize it isn't water.
While the societal fabric breaks down around us, there is nothing filling that void. Sure, there are idealists everywhere trying but... they're trying to plug a hole in a dam made of paper.
You're probably wondering why I'm so bitter.. Jesus Christ, the cost of a unit at the local community college just went up six bucks. Six fucking dollars. That's what I'm talking about.. Complacency. And those who complain? WTF are they doing about it? Nothing. Maybe they're hoping Arnold Schwarzenagger will blow shit up in Sacramento. All I know is - I need to find out what I can do about it because it is unacceptable. It's bullshit. If it were Starbucks and they raised their prices $6 per Venti Mocha-Soy-Latte-Half Decaf with some ice you know people would start breaking shit apart. There'd be riots.
I'm done. I'm going to go drink something now, and not from Starbucks.
I saw 500 DAYS OF SUMMER today and it offered some insight into what I think are parallels to just a portion of my life. Unfortunately, movie endings rarely occur in real life. But it did reiterate what I've always believed. Fate doesn't exist. Everything is coincidence. And the universe doesn't answer requests. One thing is for sure - I loved the film.
So I was listening to some black guy talking about black youth, how they are sometimes oppressed and how they're not the cause for their misfortune, unlike what the president seemed to have indicated (rough paraphrase of what this man had alluded to). There's a revolution in order, I came to understand. A revolution. We must all rise up and change the system, because the system is broken.
We're beyond revolution. In this day and age, revolution is no longer a viable option. Not for us in this country. Not for this age. Why? I'll tell you why.
We, as a population, are too complacent, too lazy, too distracted to care. I think we, as a nation, as a people, think that just electing a black president was revolution enough. Oh what a scam that was.
Revolutions are for the tired and idealistic. Revolutions are for people who want real change but are willing to sacrifice something for it. The people of these great United States, they don't want change; they want lip service. They want to be told that everything is okay, regardless of how fucked up everything is around them. As long as they hear it's okay, they'll believe it. There was a quote I remember from a Michael Douglas film where he played the president.
People want leaders, Mr. President. And in the absence of genuine leadership they'll listen to anyone who steps up to the microphone. They want leadership. They're so thirsty for it they'll crawl through the desert toward a mirage and when they discover there's no water they'll drink the sand.
Well, we're drinking sand, people, but not because we're so desperate for leadership. We're just too stupid to realize it isn't water.
While the societal fabric breaks down around us, there is nothing filling that void. Sure, there are idealists everywhere trying but... they're trying to plug a hole in a dam made of paper.
You're probably wondering why I'm so bitter.. Jesus Christ, the cost of a unit at the local community college just went up six bucks. Six fucking dollars. That's what I'm talking about.. Complacency. And those who complain? WTF are they doing about it? Nothing. Maybe they're hoping Arnold Schwarzenagger will blow shit up in Sacramento. All I know is - I need to find out what I can do about it because it is unacceptable. It's bullshit. If it were Starbucks and they raised their prices $6 per Venti Mocha-Soy-Latte-Half Decaf with some ice you know people would start breaking shit apart. There'd be riots.
I'm done. I'm going to go drink something now, and not from Starbucks.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
The first day of summer! And.. Father's Day
I wish every day was the first day of summer, where sunlight stays until 8.30p. If I were in, say, Seattle it would still be pretty bright out. That would be even better. But, I'm not, so it isn't. Oh well. Life moves on anyway, right?
So it's Father's Day today. I don't really care because, well, he's dead. Even when he was alive, I didn't really celebrate it. I wasn't close to him and, frankly, I didn't like him too much anyway; he was an asshole.
I didn't really get how much I hated him until after he passed away.
Sure, I felt bad. I even cried. I was more sad that we didn't get to know each other as well as I would have wanted. Yeah, he tried in the end but I just wasn't havin' it. Too little too late.
Anyway, it wasn't something that has affected me in any way.
So, today, I got some boxes back that were at an ex-friend's place. We were roomies once and, because of his extensive drug use and poor taste in friends, I had to move out. In one of the boxes was some letters from my mom, who, too, had passed on awhile ago.
My mother's passing devastated me. Reading some of the letters that I wrote as well as hers to me left me in tears. The memories came back, the feelings of guilt I harbored washed over me and the remorse I had had once again weakened me. My mother's passing still affects me to this day, 15 years later.
See, I was already a sensitive individual. My mother's passing made me hypersensitive, to the point where I think I need psychological help. I recently went to see the movie UP and I totally cried during the montage of the old man and his wife through the years. And, just the other day, I went to the Museum of Tolerance where I had to try, unsuccessfully, to hold back tears walking through the place.
There is a place to be sensitive. A man shouldn't be this sensitive.
Anyway, what I'm trying to get at is, my mother meant so very much to me, even if I never showed it; even when I shunned her or when I thought she was an embarrassment. I am embarrassed now by my treatment of her and I will always hold those feelings of shame. I loved my mother. No. I love my mother. And I always will. My mother's passing made me realize just how important she was to me. My father? Eh.. who cares? Not I. He was a prick.
So, for you fathers out there, be kind to your children. Understand them, be kind to them, get to know them. Don't let their mother take on your job, too, like mine lest they celebrate their mom's on this day, like I did.
So it's Father's Day today. I don't really care because, well, he's dead. Even when he was alive, I didn't really celebrate it. I wasn't close to him and, frankly, I didn't like him too much anyway; he was an asshole.
I didn't really get how much I hated him until after he passed away.
Sure, I felt bad. I even cried. I was more sad that we didn't get to know each other as well as I would have wanted. Yeah, he tried in the end but I just wasn't havin' it. Too little too late.
Anyway, it wasn't something that has affected me in any way.
So, today, I got some boxes back that were at an ex-friend's place. We were roomies once and, because of his extensive drug use and poor taste in friends, I had to move out. In one of the boxes was some letters from my mom, who, too, had passed on awhile ago.
My mother's passing devastated me. Reading some of the letters that I wrote as well as hers to me left me in tears. The memories came back, the feelings of guilt I harbored washed over me and the remorse I had had once again weakened me. My mother's passing still affects me to this day, 15 years later.
See, I was already a sensitive individual. My mother's passing made me hypersensitive, to the point where I think I need psychological help. I recently went to see the movie UP and I totally cried during the montage of the old man and his wife through the years. And, just the other day, I went to the Museum of Tolerance where I had to try, unsuccessfully, to hold back tears walking through the place.
There is a place to be sensitive. A man shouldn't be this sensitive.
Anyway, what I'm trying to get at is, my mother meant so very much to me, even if I never showed it; even when I shunned her or when I thought she was an embarrassment. I am embarrassed now by my treatment of her and I will always hold those feelings of shame. I loved my mother. No. I love my mother. And I always will. My mother's passing made me realize just how important she was to me. My father? Eh.. who cares? Not I. He was a prick.
So, for you fathers out there, be kind to your children. Understand them, be kind to them, get to know them. Don't let their mother take on your job, too, like mine lest they celebrate their mom's on this day, like I did.
Friday, June 12, 2009
Summer is upon us
Well, almost. Right now, as I look out the window and gaze up into the pre-dusk sky, I am reminded that we are in the middle of June Gloom. It's overcast, gray. Threats of rain are parroted on the news channels each night. Yet, there isn't any. What the fuck, right?
Anyway.. I move on.
Jobless, without any direction, I have so much time on my hands at the moment. I'm not really complaining. The only complaint I think I have is that there is no more FM Talk radio. I've resorted to listening to Rush Limbaugh and his craptrap yapping away on conservative bullshit. It's entertaining in a tragic, 19th century kind of way. The only thing worse than Rush is Dr. Laura, whom I will NOT listen to no matter how much I need daily entertainment. Her voice simply grates on me. Not to mention, she's a whack job.
On the dating front... it's a joke. I really must end whatever it is I have with this woman I'm seeing. I think I'm over the sex. It was par from the beginning. There's really no spice to it. It's paint-by-numbers really.. way too vanilla. And, it's the only interest we have in common, I think. Talking about her job is definitely not on my top-10 things I want to discuss on the phone. It's terrible.
She has to know that this isn't going anywhere. But, I am usually disappointed as the obvious isn't so obvious to others.
Oh well.. I need a glass of wine. And an actual book copy of The Republic. I've been reading a printout I downloaded off the internet. I can't take a stack of paper to a bar. Eh.. it wouldn't get the same reaction from the bartenders as the Communist Manifesto did anyway, but I'm sure reading Plato is impressive to somebody.
Anyway.. I move on.
Jobless, without any direction, I have so much time on my hands at the moment. I'm not really complaining. The only complaint I think I have is that there is no more FM Talk radio. I've resorted to listening to Rush Limbaugh and his craptrap yapping away on conservative bullshit. It's entertaining in a tragic, 19th century kind of way. The only thing worse than Rush is Dr. Laura, whom I will NOT listen to no matter how much I need daily entertainment. Her voice simply grates on me. Not to mention, she's a whack job.
On the dating front... it's a joke. I really must end whatever it is I have with this woman I'm seeing. I think I'm over the sex. It was par from the beginning. There's really no spice to it. It's paint-by-numbers really.. way too vanilla. And, it's the only interest we have in common, I think. Talking about her job is definitely not on my top-10 things I want to discuss on the phone. It's terrible.
She has to know that this isn't going anywhere. But, I am usually disappointed as the obvious isn't so obvious to others.
Oh well.. I need a glass of wine. And an actual book copy of The Republic. I've been reading a printout I downloaded off the internet. I can't take a stack of paper to a bar. Eh.. it wouldn't get the same reaction from the bartenders as the Communist Manifesto did anyway, but I'm sure reading Plato is impressive to somebody.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Dowd FTL
Oh, Maureen.. How could you plagiarize.. from a blog no less?
Yeah, a 'friend' did it. Bullshit.
http://tpmcafe.talkingpointsmemo.com/talk/blogs/thejoshuablog/2009/05/ny-times-maureen-dowd-plagiari.php
I recently posted about one of Dowd's Op-Eds regarding Twitter and how she hates it (let's face it, she fails at life). Maybe she hates Twitter because it's hard to plagiarize 140-character tidbits of information?? Just sayin'...
Yeah, a 'friend' did it. Bullshit.
http://tpmcafe.talkingpointsmemo.com/talk/blogs/thejoshuablog/2009/05/ny-times-maureen-dowd-plagiari.php
I recently posted about one of Dowd's Op-Eds regarding Twitter and how she hates it (let's face it, she fails at life). Maybe she hates Twitter because it's hard to plagiarize 140-character tidbits of information?? Just sayin'...
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Losses
I was perusing old emails and I found the ones where you and I corresponded and how you were always intellectual and always argumentative and always direct. Using big words and showing your mental superiority, you ran circles around me when it came to stringing words together to make sentences, which made paragraphs and pages. You KNEW you were smarter than me in those moments but I tried to keep up, I tried to counter; I made the effort to show you that I could grasp what you were trying to convey or at least get something you wanted me to get.
Looking back at those precious emails I am reminded of the feelings I once had for you, the feelings I now have for you and the feelings I may have for you in the future. None are them are the same. I once loved you. Now I hate you. Maybe one day I will like you for who you were, or at least, who I thought you were because you were a fraud, a fake, an actor who played me, being someone you weren't to see how I'd react. Fuck it, it doesn't matter. Certainly not to you (which angers me the most).
You are a bitch for that. A cunt. You are fucking nothing. So smart, yet so fucking stupid. Who the fuck do you think you are for doing that? What, were you so angry at something or someone or did you think you were so superior that you thought you had to prove something? Or are human emotions simply playthings to you?
For someone who wants to live a moral and ethical life - does that mean only when it suits you? Only when it matters?
Fuck. You. And go to hell.
Whatever.
Looking back at those precious emails I am reminded of the feelings I once had for you, the feelings I now have for you and the feelings I may have for you in the future. None are them are the same. I once loved you. Now I hate you. Maybe one day I will like you for who you were, or at least, who I thought you were because you were a fraud, a fake, an actor who played me, being someone you weren't to see how I'd react. Fuck it, it doesn't matter. Certainly not to you (which angers me the most).
You are a bitch for that. A cunt. You are fucking nothing. So smart, yet so fucking stupid. Who the fuck do you think you are for doing that? What, were you so angry at something or someone or did you think you were so superior that you thought you had to prove something? Or are human emotions simply playthings to you?
For someone who wants to live a moral and ethical life - does that mean only when it suits you? Only when it matters?
Fuck. You. And go to hell.
Whatever.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
I'm now a statistic
Friday, I became another statistic.
I lost my job to a RIF, or, Reduction in Force.
That day, after I collected my stuff, said goodbye to my co-workers and was walked out of the office, I got into my car and..
Went to see Star Trek.
(I bet you thought I was going to say Disneyland, didn't you? I did go to Downtown Disney though.)
The loss of a job is terrible but this job so sucked on so many levels, I can't help it that I don't care or that it doesn't bother me. I'm better off. Yep, I am.
I lost my job to a RIF, or, Reduction in Force.
That day, after I collected my stuff, said goodbye to my co-workers and was walked out of the office, I got into my car and..
Went to see Star Trek.
(I bet you thought I was going to say Disneyland, didn't you? I did go to Downtown Disney though.)
The loss of a job is terrible but this job so sucked on so many levels, I can't help it that I don't care or that it doesn't bother me. I'm better off. Yep, I am.
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