I will start this post by pointing out that I typed in my username and password for woohu without flinching even though it's been saved in my computer for 5 years (just built a new PC). I think that says something.
me references will be in italics. ;)
I will continue by saying that I miss me. I'm not entirely sure I know what me is anymore, but I'm pretty sure I miss it. As a disclaimer I will say that none of this is meant to be sad or foreboding in three at all. Just a rant.
I have this notion that any sense of self I had is gone with all the hobbies I used to have.
I understand that being 27 it is a totally normal thing to be unsure of direction and/or choice, what the fuck am I doing?
I had all these plans to do these big things (that weren't one-hundred percent attainable) and now here I am, a cog in the machine.
If I'm going to live in these conditions, I wish I was a teacher at least. At least then I might have the comfort of knowing I'm doing something for the future and our youth whether or not they give a shit (and usually I can't blame them if not).
I reflect sometimes and honestly feel like it's deserved. I've done many things that have warranted my conundrum. So self deprecating I is.
But then there's the other side. Considering I'm with a mother who's in a perpetual mental breakdown and a father who will hate you if the wind changes direction: I'm alive, I eat, I drink, I'm typing on a computer; things can't be that bad.
I almost blame my raising. The raising involving America being the best and being privileged just to be involved. I don't think it's the same anymore. We're not the best. I will soon be a part of a motion picture that someone in Sweden will watch and say "man, I'm glad I live here and not there regardless of how entertaining this drama is". Does that make sense? Basically I have a notion that we will soon be portrayed as less than first world. Not that less than first world is less than anything but... whatever this isn't the point.
My point is all I do is reminisce. I reminisce about times when I didn't have to think so much. I reminisce about the people who made thinking optional at most. I reminisce about love gone, love I wasted, love I should have valued. I was so carefree I felt like love was water; the most abundant of resources.
Now I'm aware; and too much so. I have a perspective of things I've done, things I'm doing, and things I will do. This is equal parts frustrating and enlightening. Equal parts "I want to apologize to everyone" and "want to stand my ground". If I hadn't made the shitty choices I've made in the past, I wouldn't be so enlightened but I wish I could go back and at the least prevent them or remake them.
I've been told by some of the people I love most that I'm not good enough for anything that is normal a lot of my life, when I was young and still today, and this has been the basis of my relationships since I was a tweenager (this is the only word in this post with a red scribble underneath it as I'm typing and I'm proud of that). I shouldn't have said that because now another mistake will be pointed out.
With this said, All i want is to know what I want. I want to know what is wantable. Is there something I should want? Want want want. Need Need Need.
That is all for tonight. Again, just a rant. Have a good night.
this whole sobriety thing
*tolkien analogies in italics
i think i might try to start posting my AA stuff on here, just because i would like to have a place to put my thoughts and progress, and this seems a more suitable venue than facebook.
current status: i have a sponsor. i make it to as many meetings as possible, but tuesday night and friday night men's stags are my mainstays, as they fit into my schedule well, and i like the stag meetings. since i started my job, going every day has not been an option. not even close. even the monday night meetings with david have stopped, but i do talk to him on tuesday nights at least.
to sum up briefly (i may come back later and edit):
don't drink.
if only for the next five minutes, ten minutes, an hour, a day. don't worry about forever, or even tomorrow, just don't drink today.
fix the spirit first - the mind and body will follow
don't think your way into right living, live your way into right thinking.
pick the god that you want to be in charge of your life. if you're giving all control of your life to god's will, it should be a god that you're comfortable entrusting with it. (my god laughs at fart jokes) gandalf
don't drink.
pray. all the time.
establish a routine. ask for guidance in the morning (and remind yourself who's in charge while you're at it), say thanks at night.
don't drink.
be honest. completely, brutally, painfully honest. about everything.
be cognizant of what's going on between your ears. motives behind activities are important (WHY you're doing something helps determine whether or not it is advisable to do so).
don't let yourself get too hungry, angry, lonely, or tired (HALT)
be honest, open, and willing (HOW)
don't drink.
alcohol is cunning, baffling, powerful. the one ring
you have a disease, which is why you see others (who don't have it) drinking with impunity.
be of service. be available to help. look to be used for god's will.
don't drink.
it's pretty simple, really. i was just making shit unnecessarily complicated all this time. might not be easy, but it's simple. and it permeates everything in my life, whether i like it or not.
sleep like a baby...
i never understood that. people say sleep like a baby when they are trying to describe a peaceful, restful sleep.
babies wake up and cry every couple hours. doesn't seem very restful to me. not to mention the whole having to eat, then burp, then throw up, then rest in your own excrement. i'd cry too. definitely not something i would consider in any way peaceful.
also, this is pretty cool: the varied states of corn
i never really considered how being friend-zoned basically implies that (assuming the friendzoner is a lady, and the friendzonee is me) it is somehow the fault of the lady for not being into me, as opposed to being my fault for being into her.
as much as it always seems like "i just can't help the way i feel about you," why is it suddenly so bad a thing that she just can't help the way she doesn't feel about me, you know?
don't get me wrong, ladies, i'm still a pathetic romantic with more emotions than i know what to do with. but i'll try better to not hold it against you for not being interested in such a hot mess. not that i blame you in the slightest, and not that i don't feel awful in the rare event that i'm the friendzoner, but there still is some residual subconscious resentment and awkwardness there. and that is wrong.
the more things change, the more they stay the same
*greetings from michigan:
my first lengthy stay away from home has come to a close. i haven't touched any alcohol in two weeks. i still don't know what the hell i'm doing with my life. and i already miss tahoe.*
i'm beginning to remember why i really didn't miss having the internet that much.
i don't need to know about your stupid kid, or what you're having for dinner, or the 10 reasons you belong in house baratheon.
i really don't.
the only time i missed it is when there was some silly piece of trivial knowledge that i couldn't remember, or i had to file an important form, or needed to pay a bill.
that's basically it. maybe watch videos, or steal music from somewhere, since i'm online. download shit to make my laptop work when i invariably fuck it up and delete something i wasn't supposed to.
not spend hours poring through meaningless babble about shit that doesn't really matter, in the lives of people who i haven't seen in years, who are only trying to make themselves look as accomplished and successful and happy as they possibly can. apparently it's working, because what started as mild curiosity - purely for the hell of it - proceeded into nostalgia, and eventually progressed to the inevitable "what have i done with my life?!" there are also a few unfortunates thrown in that (i would assume, in the light of those apparent successes) have resorted to more of a cry for help or attention, because they are at least honest about how much life can suck sometimes, combined with buying into everyone else's bullshit.
the sad part is, it is so enticing still. sure, i don't NEED any of this stuff, but why not enjoy some diversions, right? i'll read the entirety of that blog, just because i can. i guess it was marginally entertaining. enriching my life? no. i suppose, if nothing else, it kept me occupied for three hours. and that's something. maybe. i don't know. depends on what your time is worth. and what you choose to spend it on.
time to be more discerning about what it's spent on, rather than finding ways to burn it.
i am guilty of using who instead of whom often, but not inappropriately using whom. i mostly use it when it's following a preposition. but still. do it for the bourbon. do it for the moustaches.
fucking tots
1 bag of frozen tater tots
1/2 onion diced
3 cloves minced garlic
1 can large black olives, pitted, strained, and diced
2 tbsp. basil pesto
cayenne pepper to taste
1 fuckload (but not too much) butter
lightly saute everything but the tots. veggies should not be completely cooked, just softened.
toss sauteed mixture with frozen tots in large mixing bowl.
evenly distribute in a casserole dish (metal works better than glass). cover with tin foil.
bake for 30 mins at 425. uncover. bake an additional 15 mins (or until desired crustification is achieved)
don't burn your mouth, and devour indiscriminately.
welp. we're here. i was pretty excited on the drive out. there was some drama the night we were supposed to get here, which delayed our arrival until yesterday, so we spent the night in reno. it also put me in a less pleasant space than what i probably should be in. but, it was worked out (ish), so i just need to get over it.
then this morning, mom called to tell me that uncle pete died. i wasn't nearly as close to him as bruce was, but it's still a shock. yet another reminder that none of us are here forever, and something rather opposite a boon to my emotional state. there's still so much in the air. i can't stop trying, that will be the end of it. so i will keep trying. because i have to. but it just doesn't have that thrill of adventure that i was hoping for. it's just a constant oscillation between being awestruck by the fact that i'm here (and here is absolutely amazing, by the way), and mortified that i've made a terrible, terrible mistake.
so, it's great that i'm alone and i'm here and it's super neat. and it's awful at the same time.
i don't know. just keep trucking. that's the main thing.
::
2013 26 April :: 12.21am
:: Mood: the usual
:: Music: David Bowie - The Next Day
Auschwitz, this one's for you
i don't even know if you bother to read this shit.
hell, i don't even know you bother to do this shit. so, i obviously am not reading yours. so, no. odds are good you won't be reading this.
but, nonetheless, this comic made me think of you. and i hope it helps. i'm somewhat afraid to encroach upon some of the touchy, weight-related subjects. but this seemed important.
WE have body issues. societal cultures and norms and gender constructs, in addition to inferiority complexes and mental and physical shortcomings and inabilities. but we are all people. and people need to get better at being a society that thrives on support of one another as opposed to condemnation of those that are, well, not us.
(my post about modern medicine and society's struggle with death is closely related, but for a later time.)
the even bigger issue is that you could rack up a $70 tab, after getting a discount, and each person can still only tip 67 cents? c'mon, people. the minimum total tip on that should be at least $10.50, regardless of how awful your experience was. and i suppose that was the joke, them only leaving a $2 tip ... but still, i just get so mad at people who make math harder than it is.
the varied states of corn
