Figaro

I just saw his marriage at the Reno Pioneer Center. It was beautiful :) ran into Chris and Lynette and Danita and Christine (and boy was I surprised) and I was almost late but Stephanie gave Rich the phone and he explained how to get there and I walked in the doors at 2:00pm exactly. And then I stayed to talk to Maria and I think I may have been rude and an idiot which is why I shouldn't have stayed to talk to Maria. At least I refused dinner; tactically sound move since I'm too tired and I would have made some faux pas and been humiliated and I'm not agoraphobic. I think.

The music was sooo beautiful that I sometimes just forgot about the show and sat there listening to it. Turns out I love some Opera.

I'm popping these Vicodin like M&M's but they don't help the deep down hurting. Pop more?

Zombies

I fuckin' hate zombies. The only good zombie is a dead zom...hmmm

Perfect

Mood: I dont know
Music: "The Way I Am" Ingrid Michaelson


lackluster. if thats even a mood. thats how i feel. i stopped checking the phone every couple minutes and my emails every couple minutes and my texts every couple minutes. im not really tired but i have that feeling like im tired of --

bleh

dont even care enough to finish that last--

/rolls eyes

Mood: not wierd anymore
Music: "Sa Brooke Lullaby" - Gary Stadler



In a world that can go crazy with sadness at the drop of a hat, it seems the height of arrogance to go looking for it on my own.

Just needed to look at the horror some people are trying to survive in Japan for some perspective.

I thank the Lord for my blessings.

Head Scattered...

Mood : About to go to work :(
Music : "Endless Night" - The Lion King (Original Broadway Cast)

So I'm the figurative 600lb gorilla to aging power-tripping doormen. I went from smug and belligerent to horrified and ashamed in the course of ten minutes. I could have handled that differently. It served though, to reinforce what I learned at an earlier age: I always regret the things I do when I lose my temper.

I've been thinking about family and my friends relationship to their family. I love my mom. I respect her. But she's exhausting and I avoid her alot. Now that she's coming to visit, I'm sorry to say I'm dreading it. And I don't think I will have any help from my sister. They're still not talking to each other.

I may not be the nicest guy I know, but I'm the guy who tries to do the right thing.

Head scattered, so many things...

Memento

Mood: Tired but can't sleep
Music: Nocturne in C sharp minor - Chopin

In a box on a shelf in my room, I have a plain, unmarked cassette tape. I neither touch nor listen to it anymore. It is enough for me to know it is there. My "Memento". It is all I have to remind me of one of the happiest times of my life.


In my life, I was extraordinarily lucky and blessed to have a moment-a brief time when the world was a watercolor of hope and the future was so bright my eyes teared and I had to squint to stand the sight of it. A moment when magic became real. A moment when I could fly. My moment was named Hana.


Before this, I was a different man. It was a dark time, seven years long. I was bitter and I hated. I was introverted and withdrawn. I was broken and I carried the hurt always. I knew what it was to be hungry, and homeless. There was no help for me, even if I knew how to ask for it. Most of the people in my life were very bad people. Alcohol and heavy drugs were my vehicles of choice; my own method of embracing oblivion. I considered them my own personal road to, what I hoped would be, peace. I was too chicken-shit to take the quick way out, so I did it slow.


I met Hana by chance. She was a slender, dark haired wonder with a smile and a laugh that would haunt your dreams. She could gather a room into the palm of her hand with it. No one knew what drew them to her, but they gravitated around her instinctively and were grateful to be there. She was too good for someone like me. I couldn't understand what she saw in me.


For someone so classically beautiful, Hana could see worth in the strangest places and most unlikely of people. But what she saw, she made others see. She looked at me differently than anyone had in a long time. She saw me as talented and strong and decent. She saw me as someone worthwhile. She saw what I could be, what I wanted to be, and she thought I was beautiful. And one night, in my arms, she looked at me with serious eyes and told me she loved me.

The regard of someone so precious, so amazing, made me reevaluate myself, my life. For her, I could be- I wanted and needed to be a better man. For her, I tried again and I have kept trying and though I fall down often, I have been trying ever since. She healed the last cracks in the brittle shell of my life. She was my angel and I was in love.



It has been six years since she left.



God sent me an angel. Though I never spoke of my past, she sensed the hurt in me. She fixed me. She made me a better person. And, when I was healed and stronger, when I could look myself in the mirror again, life moved her away from me and carried her on.


After she left, though I missed her so much I couldn't breathe and I woke from dreams of her with my chest aching, I was still whole. I could not dishonor the gift she gave me by backsliding. I would not fall into the hell she helped me crawl out of. I carried the memories of what we shared and I was a better person for it.

In a box on a shelf in my room, I have a plain, unmarked cassette tape. A "Memento". On this tape are recorded some of the last messages Hana ever sent me. Messages full of laughter and "I love you's" and joy. You can hear the joy in it when you play the tape, the joy she had in me. I don't touch it or listen to it though. Not anymore. It's enough to know it's there.

A Male Fairy Tale

(Disclaimer: not my work but too funny)

Once upon a time, a Prince asked a beautiful Princess, "Will you marry me?". The Princess said NO, and the Prince lived happily ever after and rode motorcycles and fucked skinny, big titted broads, and hunted, and raced cars, and went to naked bars, and dated women half his age, and drank whiskey, beer, and Captain Morgan, and never heard bitching, and never paid child support or alimony, and ate pussies, and fucked cheerleaders, and kept his house and guns, and never got cheated on while he was at work, and all his friends and family thought he was fuckin' cool as hell, and had tons of money in the bank, and left the toilet seat up.

The End

Insert Random Witticism *HERE*

So it's always a revelation when I come back a year later to see what my mindset was at a particular moment in the past. What I was thinking, or feeling. It's embarrassing sometimes, illuminating sometimes, and just plain wierd most of the time.

A year later, my perspective has changed so much that it almost seems I'm reading about someone else.

The reason I took a break from this site (aside from my being steamed that they took away all the pretty font colors), was too many people I knew in the really-real world were coming here and reading the stuff I mostly just spew in an extremely stream-of-consciousness (sp!)way. I post things that are a little (ok, a lot) too personal to share with people I have to face everyday. That rhymed by accident...

It's nice to embrace the anonymity of the internet.

Now that no one I know irl (in-real-life)checks this site, the randomness shall continue once again.

Hooray!

Oh yes, I apologize to you, o random reader, for the occassional emo. I shudder when I read the angst but perhaps thats a sign of my growing maturity?