| Plan B |
[Mar. 21st, 2006|11:31 am] |
I started this journal many moons ago. I originally wanted to use it as an outlet for pent-up emotions. It's like my "bitch corner". I know there are some serious things contained within, but this is where I go when I feel like no one else is there to listen. In my estimation, judging from the people I meet, everyone needs someone to listen and to genuinely care about what they say. And when there isn't someone there to listen to you... it hurts. Bites the big one.
I haven't posted here in a long time. Why? Because life was good. I mean, it was still peaks and valleys but I had something very important to me. As long as you have that one big thing in your life, you can shrug off all the other bullshit. But now that dire thing is gone. Maybe it'll be back later, maybe not at all. Regardless, it's not here today. And I feel like shit.
I've been awaken to the realization of what my life is really like. I have a dead-end job. Very little prospects. Debt. Not very many friends. Shitty hobbies. And worst of all, I'm not a good person. I may be a better person than who I was a few years ago, but I'm still not a good person. I'm growing up to become my father. It scares the shit out of me.
What do I do? Things haven't gone as planned. Gambler's Ruin. The longer you risk something, the more eventual it is that you will just lose it. I've done drastic things before. Back then I was too stupid to even realize that what I was doing was actually beneficial to me. Dumb luck. I need to go somewhere. Again. Is it better to be completely alone, like last time? Well, last time I tried that method it really sucked. It worked though. Do I try to choose someone to become closer to? That person would be welcoming a burden that they don't deserve. They'd see me so much that by the end of it they'd be wanting to punch me in the earhole.
What do I do? Where do I go? What should I bring? What should I try to learn? How do I go about becoming a better person? If I had any gumption I'd join the army. I'd be out of people's hair while also doing something noble. Learning life from the barrel of a gun-- what better learning motivator is there? I can't imagine having to shoot somebody though. And I can't imagine ever succeeding boot camp.
Springtime is technically here, and summer is soon to follow. I have this fantasy about moving into a sleepy, yet sunny, fishing town. Waking up and working a man's day with the lull of the ocean in the background. I saw the ocean for the first time ever in August. Everything seems very, very, very small next to it. Worries become small. Troubles too. |
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| Home |
[Nov. 10th, 2005|03:14 pm] |
Whenever times get tough I inexplicably mutter to myself "I wish I could go home...", even when I'm at my house, or the house I grew up in.
Home is where the heart is? Well, my heart gets lost or discarded too easily.
Is this my life? What I'm destined to be? Some nomadic wanderer, moving from one misadventure to the next in vain attempts to find a warm safe place I could call home?
Or is it not the destination but the journey? Home is the path you take? That can't be right. Long and hard is the road from hell, and the journey is rough. Home is comfortable. Home is everything you need, encapsuling you like four sturdy walls.
And I can't find it. |
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| The Lonely Heart's Battlecry |
[Feb. 16th, 2005|06:57 pm] |
How was everyone's Valentine's Day? For those of us who lived through the day single, I hope you didn't end up doing anything embarassing. I know it's sort of like being at a party and watching everyone pair off and by the end of the night it's just you and the girl who smells like hot dogs. You're thinking to yourself "Ohhh! Everyone has someone and this sucks...maybe it'd be nice to give into her carnival-like odor and steal a kiss!" -- Wrong! Then the next day comes and you're like "Blah. I taste pork by-product in my mouth and I can't get rid of it." You live, you learn.
The day went by without incident for me but yes, there was the urge to call an ex...or two. Then you think of why they are "exes" and you sober up real quick. The day is all about couples and romance and emotion, so when you don't have any of these things you seek to go out and find the quickest way you can achieve them before the night's over.
Surprisingly I'm not that tore up about not being in a relationship for the last couple months now. I'm getting older and it's still not here but I've developed this great apathetic attitude towards it. It's like "It'll happen when it'll happen. Ooh. Fear Factor is on." It makes me think of Ponce De Leon. He was the conquistador who explored Florida looking for the fountain of youth. Of course he never really found it. I'm sure after awhile good ol' Ponce was like "Enh. Fuck this fountain thing. I'll find it when I find it. In the meanwhile, let's soak up some Florida sun and throw rocks at alligators."
Right on Ponce. I'm in Ohio so I can't really soak up any sun, and we don't have any alligators, but we do have women who smell like hot dogs. Fuck this fountain thing. Let's watch Fear Factor and throw rocks at the girls who smell like hot dogs. Yeah...I like that. |
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| The Crotchety Old Man and his Valentine Discontent |
[Feb. 14th, 2005|06:25 pm] |
I'm just gonna lump a few random thoughts into one update. It's been awhile.
Firstly, I should say that I'm one of those bitter people who dislikes Valentine's day. I can't even remember the story of how it came to be named Valentine's. Some guy named Valentine had a thing for some chick and he did the old Tale of Two Cities/Sidney Carton "It is a far, far better thing that I do..." thing. Probably. At least that's what the old thinking sponge is telling me. Now the day has devolved into a cheap excuse to buy a loved one flowers or chocolate, or chocolate covered flowers.
I think part of my discontent is based on my belief that love is much rarer today than perhaps any other time is history. If there is love then why is there so much faithlessness? I like to consider myself one of the most relationship committed people I know, but I also know that even while in a relationship that thought of "I wonder what it'd be like to be with her..." creeps into mind and you have to make an effort to expunge the thought. I know it's just not me either. Of all the ended relationships in the past year that I have been witness to, I'd say that 90% of them ended because of adulterous behavior.
Okay okay. Maybe it's just poor self-control demonstrated by a large portion of society. Doesn't mean love doesn't exist. My definition might be different than yours. In any case, doesn't it seem cheap to express emotion on a unanimously decided one day of the year? "Oh look, it's February 14th. I know I haven't said so in the past 3 months, but i was just reminded how much I love you."
I don't like Valentine's day, yeah-- it's a problem. I think it has good intentions and anything with good intentions should be allowed to survive. Solution? Why don't we individually select our own Valentine's day every year? We don't tell anyone and then when some random day rolls around, May 12th or whatever, you buy wine, make dinner, look into a loved one's eyes and tell them the first thing that pops in your head. That your life is more fulfilled with them, that you love the way they laugh, that sometimes you want to ask silly questions like "Why are you so beautiful?". And the best thing about selecting your own V-day is that it'll be both sincere and a surprise. No one does nice things just because anymore. I'll tell you this: if I come across a wonderful woman who sends flowers to my work, writes an earnest letter detailing her feelings, and then makes nachos for me (hey-- I'm a simple man) and all on some random day like September 24th, I promise I will be smitten.
Besides, restaurant reservations are easier to make when it's not February 14th.
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Left of the middle....dot org?
I don't know. I gave up the website a couple months back because it just wasn't fun anymore. Finding nonsensical, yet fun, things to write about started to become a chore. Every joke I made, every piece of whimsical writing, seemed like something that somebody more clever than I had already written. Instead of writing about something that was fun for me, it was like I was just merging jokes I had heard on Jimmy Kimmel Live with things I read from satire sites on the web. No, it wasn't like that literally, but it felt that way. It wasn't creative anymore and it wasn't any fun.
Here it is two months later and Bui (even though he never did anything on the old site, except tweak the skeleton of the design that our friend Matt had already laid out for us) is pushing for a re-release of LeftoftheMiddle. Honestly, I've missed it. It's almost like being in a bad relationship. You have all the right in the world for the break-up but even after the break-up you still miss the girl. On the positive side of things, that website allowed me to meet some very cool people. It, sometimes, left an indelible mark on strangers. "This guy is having fun writing about Zoloft onions for this little website that he's not even getting paid for? He might be a pretty cool customer." I think right now having a way to meet some people, to go out and have an adventure once every few weekends, is something that needs to be done.
Which sort of leads me onto the topic of...
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The Paintball shop. Tim and I have preliminary plans to open up in August. Next month we'll get to clean up the store and set it up the way we'd like. After that, it's gonna be talks with the banks then numerous phone calls to suppliers (not just paintball, we're gonna need other things like fancy computers and probably mops. Yeah, definitely mops.). My only fear with this is that I'll be a part-owner doing more then a part-owner's share of the work. I can easily see myself working my 9-5 then having to be there every night because we don't have anyone to work there. Hello 71 (11 x 5 for the week and another 16 on the weekends) hour work weeks!
Not many people have a chance at something like this. This opportunity has every chance in the world to succeed. There isn't another paintball shop within 20 minutes of where our store will be, and paintball in this area is starting to take off (about time someone found something productive to do in all the woods around here). I think the only way a small business succeeds is by putting in the time and the work. I want this to work very much.
How does this tie in with what I was saying about the website? Well, after spending the last few months of my life not doing anything out-of-the-ordinary, I have come to the conclusion that you need adventure in your life. Not constantly, but you at least need the *prospect* of adventure to be there. I feel so much better knowing that in just a few months I will have the opportunity to make a business work. I feel better knowing that in a few months I won't be sitting on my thumbs, the only enjoyment in life coming from being able to leave work 20 minutes early.
Routine murders us. Over time it can carve you up and leave you catatonic. It drains you of life and any feeling other than "tired". The same way saying "I love you" every February 14th doesn't seem sincere to me, is the way routine makes everything bland and untrue. I think it will always be better to take a chance on something. Run the risk, roll the dice. It is a far, far better thing that I do {now} than I have ever done. You know, that Sidney Carton guy again. Maybe that's what the original Valentine's day was about. Taking a chance. Being courageous.
I still think Valentine's Day should be whenever you want it to be.
:-) |
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| All the pretty chicks, with the crimson lips... |
[Dec. 13th, 2004|02:58 am] |
The trip to Cleveland was awesome. My bad directions caused me to go nearly 3 hours out the way, and if it were any other place, or if I were spending the evening with any other person I probably would've been mopey all night. But nope, ending up loving the hell out of it.
Downtown was grand. Sooooo many things to do. $50-a-plate classy restaurants, live productions, dinner theater, music clubs, dancing clubs, bars, etc. etc. Ended up spending most of the night in "The Flats"-- a string of bars downtown.
The thing that amazed me most was just how scenic some of it really was. I was driving home at 1 in the morning (after i had sobered up, thank you) and the freeway out of Cleveland runs at an incline. You look over and there's the city resting in a cradle between high hills. Just these specks of light coming from the valley and illuminating the dark night. It was like being a bug and crawling across a lit-up christmas tree.
The people, generally, seemed very friendly. Not "Stepford" friendly, but you'd be ten times more apt to have a complete stranger say "hi" to you in Cleveland than you would here. Yeah, it's not much, but you're talking to someone who gets stink-eye when I see someone and acknowledge their presence.
It was like Toledo but evolved. It's like the small difference between "content" and "happy".
I think I've talked myself into the idea of living there. I just felt like I fit.
Right now I'm just happy. Happy to know that I haven't been spoiled. That I can go to a place that is hardly anyone's idea of paradise, yet I can look at it and see beautiful things. Happy that maybe a plan is formulating...
I think this is why every good movie ends with an aerial shot over a street. You leave feeling like you're going towards something better than what you've known. |
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| Christmas Cheer |
[Dec. 8th, 2004|02:16 am] |
Soon as I start to get good and cynical, something has to come hit me upside the head and remind me about what's good and right in the world.
I came home from work and sort of fell in sections onto my couch. Turned on the tv and there was good ol' Chuck-- Charlie Brown.
Christmas just wouldn't be Christmas without Charlie Brown and his misfit tree. There was Schroeder playing Beethoven's moonlight sonata and trying to convince Lucy of Ludwig's genius. There was Linus on the middle of the school stage explaining unto the other children that the king of kings has been born in the city of David.
Those pieces of childhood that often find themselves buried under worry, stress, and disenchantment...they always seem to be uncovered at the most fortuitous times. And I am thankful. It's the time of the year to be reminded about how it feels to be innocent and caring and full of wonderment.
Sounds sort of silly, but thanks Charlie Brown... You big blockhead. |
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| Starving the Habit, but I Always Come Back |
[Dec. 5th, 2004|10:40 pm] |
I've been talking to people and it stuns me how many people don't feel well "unless (they) have someone to cuddle with." How funny it is to be this free-thinking, independent species that has radically changed the face of the Earth over the past, oh, 4000 years. To do all of that but to feel useless unless there's someone to touch and hold in immediate proximity to you. So needy...
There's those truth.com commercials, making it brutally aware that smoking is addictive. There's the "Please drink responsibly" tagline at the end of all the beer commercials. There's the phone number to gambler's anonymous on the back of every lotto ticket. Addictions are bad. Yet there's no predominant warnings against friendships and relationships. No pamphlet telling you that the hurt of rejection, and the consistency of it, outweighs whatever small amount of comfort you might find. Because we're all addicted. We've made a fairy tale about soul mates and eternal love and the overwhelming power of goodness, and we've accepted that tale as fact.
Yes, it's easy to believe in all those wonderful things when you get a hit of it. The way a lover digs their head against your chest while you sleep, the moments of tranquility you feel when you're enveloped by caring arms, or even that fluttery feeling high in your belly when you do nothing but look at each other. Yes, but it's also easy to persuade yourself that you don't have a gambling problem when you're up $2000 at the craps table.
I'm tired of coming way down and crashing off this high. Just like some fucked-up heroin junkie; mental tract marks on my brain and bloodshot eyes surveying my damage.
I want to take a stand-- I really do. In my fantasies I swear off relationships, friendships, even society in general. I'm a monk in some eternally spring hillside church, doing menial things like drawing water from a well and picking the evening's supper from an arrayed garden. Or maybe I'm just a haggard man in a cave with nothing but a long-burning candle and a library of books.
I think about it alot... beating this addiction. I wonder why we all subject ourselves to these things. Invariably, I end up growing sad. Because for better or worse, I will never overcome this problem. Alot of us won't. Alot of us will never even realize there is a problem. We all end up with the hurt though, just like the song says: "No one here gets out alive". |
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| Sloth is a Private Person |
[Oct. 22nd, 2004|12:42 pm] |
When I was 8 years old there was a neighbor down the street who sort of looked like Sloth from the Goonies. My friends and I would get together, with some cheap G.I. Joe walkie talkies, spread out then report on what this guy was doing.
"Sloth is mowing the lawn!"
"Sloth just let his dog out. Over."
"Sloth is wearing jeans today, I repeat, he is wearing jeans today!"
I don't think the guy ever realized that he was the fascination of every 8 year old on the block but still, it was a stupid thing for us to be doing.
We were 8.
Now, it's been my suspicion for a long time that there were people I know who have stumbled across this journal and were reading it without my permission. Had someone said "Hey man, I accidentally came across your journal. Do you mind me reading it?" I probably would've said "No-- no problem. Go for it.". The fact that these people are reading this journal and not telling me makes me think that they get a kick out of this. I have become Sloth while the 8-year olds of the internet collect data and chuckle to themselves the entire while.
I proved my suspicions last night and because of this I will be making this journal a friend's only page. From what I understand, you must be logged in with your username and password and be on my friends list to be able to read any further updates.
Sorry 8 year olds of the world. If you wanted to learn something about me then you should've grew some balls and asked me. |
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| Vulgar Beasts |
[Oct. 18th, 2004|04:46 pm] |
I just found out that my ex, the one I trusted wholeheartedly and genuinely thought was one of the most committed people I've ever had the pleasure of coming across, cheated on me with a handful of people.
Now I could spend an hour filling up this entry on how shitty that is and how I now am going to be paranoid of sickness for at least the next few weeks and how humanity has basically denigrated into a society that may ultimately fuck itself into oblivion but I'll spare all of us the whining. I just want to say this: I never thought the four most important adjectives in the world would be warm & moist, and thick & hard.
Animals. Just a bunch of vulgar beasts. |
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| The Return of Turtle Car? |
[Oct. 13th, 2004|01:53 pm] |
Damages came out to $2400-- alot more than I thought it'd be. Essentially they're just replacing the front and back windshield and then doing some body work. Fixing scratches, pulling out dents and the like. These tasks, according to Brondes Ford, will take till at least Oct. 21st to perform. My green turtle car is in I.C.U. and in the meanwhile I'm stuck driving this cumbersome rental Buick Century.
It is the most uncomfortable car I've ever driven.
It's big and bulky and smells like moth balls and cigarettes. The bench seats are not only unseemly, but uncomfortable too. The radio stretches along the length of the dash (seemingly something like 4 feet), which means I have to grow go-go gadget arms just to change the radio station presets. That reminds me, I've driven my rental car for maybe an hour since Sunday. Why have I heard Avril Lavigne's "So much for my happy ending" for 40 of those 60 minutes? I'd change the radio but I'm so afraid of leaning over so far that I'll veer off the road and maybe find a deer that will finish the job the first one couldn't.
What's the deal with Lavigne anyway? Alanis Morrisette called. She said that if she wanted an untalented little sister she'd kidnap Ashlee Simpson.
I could go on and on about this all day (and I'll probably end up writing more about this on leftofthemiddle) but I'll save us all from my rambling rants and end this now. Too much worky work to do.
Get well soon, Turtle Car! |
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