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 |   The only blog that will put hair on your chest... |
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** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Turning from the Dark Side ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** < This is where I'll insert a cool new blog description. Someday. > |
| I'm so pissed I can't think straight. I'm so frustrated I'm fighting back the tears that I really don't want anyone at work to see. I'm so nervous I'm scratching my knuckles vigorously again between typing. (I should have remembered to bring that distracting post-it note pen back to work today.) Yesterday I found out I'm getting a $3300 bonus before taxes are taken out. I should be jumping for joy, and instead I'm trying to figure out how I'm going to cover my expenses for the next two months. I'm fractions of an inch from starting to look for a second job. I'm going to be paying for two rents, two phone bills, two DSL bills, two electric bills, more gas money than most people spend in six months, and at least four birthdays. Throw in the sudden need for surgeries on two of my dogs, and suddenly my bonus is null and void. I can't deal with this staying afloat crap anymore. I make damned good money, and yet I'm completely broke. I'm making payments on debts I can't possible catch up on, and I feel like I just keep bailing water out of a sinking ship. Fortunately my bailing bucket is pretty large, and I'm staying afloat. Unfortunately the hole in the boat is large too, and every time I get a bigger bucket the hole breaks open a little more. I know the ship will stay afloat. I know my bucket is plenty big enough. But constantly bailing water is draining. My muscles are sore, and I'm losing my concentration. I go to bed earlier and earlier, mostly because my head is swimming and I'm avoiding taking care of so much stuff I don't want to deal with right now. I'm afraid I'm about to have another breakdown. Scratch that. I'm afraid it's already beginning. |
| novusfemina provided an interesting link in her journal where you can pick words you think describe her the best. She can then see the results to learn more about how others perceive her et al. It seemed like a cool idea, so I'm jumping on the bandwagon. Just click the link and follow the easy instructions. GPs to anyone who does it. http://kevan.org/johari?name=ProblematicContent |
| Last week I called my mom, and we had a lengthy discussion. Little did I know my call put the kabosh to my father's intentions of getting her into the jacuzzi in an empty house. He told me afterwards he was so close, and I botched it up for him. How was I supposed to know? After I gagged and tried to gouge out my eyes at the mental image of my naked parents together in a whirlpool, I apologized. Though disgusted, I could see his point. He's actually done quite a bit for me financially of late, the first time I can remember that being the case, so I actually felt bad for messing up his rare opportunity to... Well, I can't finish that sentence without spewing. Yesterday Jodi got our kitchen and dining area all squared away, and I came home from work and made shrimp scampi, the one meal I actually know how to make. We had a candlelit dinner, and I poured her a glass of wine. I'll spare my faithful readership all the lovey-dovey details, but soon we retired to the living room to cuddle on the couch in the dimly lit apartment. Moments later a loud bang on the door snapped me back to the ugly reality, and I saw my father poking his bearded face in through the window. Yup, my parents made an unexpected visit. They brought pizza and a sub for me. Jodi and I were already stuffed so I refrigerated the sub, and we sat down at the table while my parents munched on pizza. All the lights in the apartment went back on, the rooms echoed with my father's obnoxious laugh, and all romance was replaced with greasy pepperoni and redneck guffawing. The worst part is he knew he got even. Well, so far as I'm concerned, I'm never even until I have the upper hand. A paradox I know, but I'm a greedy bastard.  |
| ... like you've eaten something you shouldn't have and then gagged a little back up. That's what I'm experiencing right now. Don't get me wrong, I've never been happier in my entire life, but once in while something so utterly repulsive happens that you can't help but get sick to your stomach and ponder the worthwhileness of existence. I do what I can to be a good person in this life. I'm honest (to a fault), caring, protective, considerate, loyal, hard-working, devoted, respectful, polite, and just. And as of late those qualities have rewarded me in several ways. However, one of my other qualities is righteousness, and whenever I witness the glorification of something despicable or someone implorable, I get that mucus feeling in that back of my throat. Why does our society continue to be fascinated by the despicable? Why do we continue to condone and even sometimes reward actions and behaviors that are unquestionably disrespectful, demeaning, immoral, vile, and/or hurtful? Why is it that we all want to be treated with respect, appreciation, and loyalty, but we laugh at someone who we know treats other people in exactly the opposite ways. Why do we focus on the positive entertaining qualities of a person and ignore and accept the repugnant qualities until such time that they come back to bite us? Why do we adore people of questionable character? The answer of course is simple: people are naturally selfish. We can recognize the bad in someone, but oftentimes we'll choose to ignore it because the sheer entertainment value is something we're not willing to give up. We don't bother to put ourselves in someone else's shoes until we're actually in those shoes. We choose to focus on the positive until the negative rears its ugly head at us directly. Maybe I'm just being a pessimist again, or maybe I just have a much more difficult time forgiving certain things. Or maybe I'm just judgmental. Either way, I use one basic principle when judging a person's character: could I act that way myself without being morally, ethically, or spiritually ashamed of myself? If the answer is no, then yours truly has already made a mental mark against that person. Wow, that's incredibly self-righteous isn't it? It's worked for me thus far. As an aside, I'll give a prize to anyone who correctly guesses what inspired this little musing. |
| Another dinner at Koi's, the new, fancier Chinese place. I shan't bore you with details, but of course I need to share my fortune: Your meaning of love is special. Why not share it. Well, that's exactly what I'm doing. I always said I was a hopeless romantic, but I'm not so hopeless anymore I think my meaning of love is pretty special, but I guess you'd have to ask Jodi if that's true or not. Sometimes I just don't feel like I do enough. |
| ... and the beginning of forever has started. The weekend has thus far exceeded my expectations. Despite Jodi's warnings I loved her family. I remember prepping her the same way she prepped me. It turns out we come from equally insane and loud, yet delightfully down to earth, families. We played poker, and for that I was thankful. I got to settle right into my element. Maybe I should have let someone else win, but I was in the zone. (And her stepfather didn't show me the family heirloom rifle until after the chips were put in front of me.) I took the first tournament pretty handily. Little did I know Jodi was all ga-ga over me at various moments, and her mom was courteously asking if I wanted some tea. The world stops revolving sometimes when I'm in my poker mindset. The second tournament I slacked off and played a lot more liberally. I felt like I had proved myself on the first go-round, and I was willing to let someone else win now. Jodi herself eliminated me when her two pair took down my pair of queens. She went on to win the whole thing. She can play cards too... (plug your ears and close your eyes) just one more reason to love her. I played some ping pong too. I smoked her sister's boyfriend, and frankly he deserved it. I was pretty evenly matched with her step-dad though. Ah, if only my brother and I hadn't quit playing a couple years ago. It was a tight match, and he finally took me down by one point. In all fairness I was on my third match, and he was playing fresh. I hate to lose at anything, but I was already sweating, and I couldn't very well win everything tonight. Now if only I had my old custom wooden paddle...  Dinner was pizza, chips, and ice cream cake. Seriously now, how could I not love her family after that? She was ever tending to me, making sure a few plain pieces of pepperoni found their way into my stomach. Her step-dad makes some damn good pizza. I need to figure out how I can order those pizza kits by the pallet. Her step-grandfather Milton is a card player and a card. He's the sort of grandfather everybody should have. He had me cracking up most of the night. Although the greatest line came when his card slid off the table. He bent over to pick it up off the floor, and his head was practically in his sweet wife's lap. Sitting back up with the card he said "That's the closest I've been to that in a long time."  It was shades of my own grandfather.At one point I had to go out into the woods with the family. I feared some initiation into the family, and surprisingly I came back out with all my body parts. I won't tell you what happened in those woods, but it involved a lot of dog pooping. Seriously. Long story short, I'll be glad to call them in-laws someday. Our families would hit it off. Too bad we're both so embarrassed by them. |
| Inevitably in life you come across something that you find unsettling, something that doesn't involve you but draws you in nonetheless. This is especially true when you suffer from big brother and knight in shining armor complexes. I used to be pulled into such situations, knowing I was acting in the best interest of both parties or at least the party I was defending, only to discover that I had made matters worse because people need to learn on their own. I think I've done a fairly decent job of staying out of things since I came to that realization. It pains me to see people learn something the hard way, but maybe that's the only way they'll learn. And so I stay out of it. Then there are other instances, where despite my resistance to get involved, I'm dragged in on the request of someone or something I care about. I have to assume the parties know what they're doing when they involve me. They do know me afterall. I do what I can to answer the request, but it's occurred to me that perhaps sometimes people don't really want to be helped. Maybe morally, ethically, or emotionally they need someone who help them along, to convince themselves they're doing the right thing, but in truth they're involving themselves in a situation intentionally, either consciously or subconsciously, because it appeals to them. Maybe it's what they really want after all, or maybe it simply makes them feel good. Sometimes people need to feel certain emotions even when it's not best for them. You could almost equate it to an alcoholic trying to give up drinking. Maybe he attends all the self-help programs and asks his family for support, but then he turns around and drinks right in front of them because he simply can't help himself. On the other hand maybe he doesn't want to help himself. Maybe he likes the booze, but he just needs the affirmation that he's doing the right thing by attempting to quit. Maybe he intends to keep on drinking because it makes him feel good, and he'll just save face by battling to give it up and blaming his failure on things outside his control. As someone who has a hard time simply standing by, I need to realize that sometimes people either can't be helped or don't want to be helped. They might ask for my help, but ultimately they must help themselves. Or maybe ultimately they just cave and submit to whatever they were trying to escape. Who knows, maybe they'd even be happier. Maybe it's pompous of me to say it, but I've never been wrong about something I felt sure about. And I'm a damned good judge of character. Those are my strengths. Sometimes I wish I could give them up, because knowing what's going to happen when someone I care about gets involved in something I know is wrong hurts me inside. Having to watch as disaster unfurls and then having to pick up the pieces gets old after a while. |
| Ever get the metaphorical feeling that you've reached into a bag you thought was safe, in order to retrieve something you want, when suddenly you drag your hand across something you didn't know was there and you get cut? It's a deep cut and jagged because you yanked back quickly from the shock. You pull your hand out bleeding, and you bandage it up. Now you sit and wonder if you can reach into the bag again without being cut. In that bag is something you really really want, so you reach in again. Ultimately you realize that maybe you can't get to it. Maybe after thinking the bag was perfectly safe and you practically had your desire in your hand, you suddenly realize that the bag isn't so safe afterall. Maybe that sharp object will always be there. Maybe it will even force you to abandon what's inside the bag. Maybe you'll lose what you were going after to a bag that's soaked with your blood and wasn't quite ready to give it up afterall. That's how I feel. But alas, I promised a week ago I wouldn't write personal stuff, so for now it will remain a very poor metaphor. |
| To enter that journal contest I have to pick out five entries. The other night I perused my blog, compiling a list of candidates as I went. I ended with 31 possible entries. Now it's time to trim the fat. I already know a couple that I'm going to enter, but narrowing it to five is no simple task. I want to make sure I choose entries that will fully show what my blog has to offer. I tried to break the qualities of my blog into five distinct categories: humorous anecdote, emotional release, philosophical musing, ranting, and reader interaction. Now I'm trying to pick entries that personify each of these qualities. The fact is I'm lazy and I hate making decisions (just ask Jodi), so I'm going to let my readers choose. I've created five polls, all linked below. All you have to do is pick your favorite from each of the polls. I made sure I threw in some mediocre entries too, just to keep all you voters honest. Plus if I had included only the best, some of the polls would have had only a couple options. Also, if you think I left a good entry off the list, post a comment in here to remind me. As I read through my blog, I found my absolute favorite entry. Alas, it's set to private. It details our first kiss and explains what it means to me. Because it's about more than just me, it shall remain private. And yes, I started pining as soon as I read it. I miss those tender kisses. [Linked Poll's access is restricted.] [Linked Poll's access is restricted.] [Linked Poll's access is restricted.] [Linked Poll's access is restricted.] [Linked Poll's access is restricted.] |
| I went to a new Chinese place tonight, one much fancier than the others I've been to. It was a bit pricier and didn't have as large portions, but the food was better and the atmosphere was by far the best. I enjoyed my meal, but the fortune cookies were something else altogether. Apparently they only stock boring and cruddy fortunes. Here was mine: You are cautious in showing your true self to others. Well, duh, I already knew this. Very few people know the real me, and only one person knows me to the core. But this isn't a fortune, it's a psychological assessment. I want to know what my future holds, and I need a little scrap of paper with a prediction on it for that! There was a second fortune waiting to be snatched. Since my first fortune was accurate but useless, I decided to take a crack at another. Here it is: You are born with grace and beauty. I looked around the room. Did someone take my cookie by mistake? This one couldn't possibly be mine. First of all, it's another diagnosis, not prediction. Secondly, it's not even close to being true. I'm a total klutz, and beauty is the last trait I was born with. Maybe I was supposed to save this one for Jodi next weekend or something. So like the title says, good restaurant, crappy fortunes. The search for the Debbie Wong's replacement continues. |
| Heard a familiar song on the radio on the way home tonight. I could always relate to one part of it, but now I realized I relate to all of it. "I'm a Believer" by Smash Mouth I thought love was Only true in fairy tales Meant for someone else But not for me Love was out to get to me That's the way it seems Disappointment haunted All my dreams And then I saw her face Now I'm a believer Not a trace Of doubt in my mind I'm in love I'm a believer I couldn't leave her If I tried I thought love was More or less a given thing The more I gave the less I got, oh yeah What's the use in trying All you get is pain When I wanted sunshine I got rain And then I saw her face Now I'm a believer Not a trace Of doubt in my mind I'm in love I'm a believer I couldn't leave her If I tried What's the use in trying All you get is pain When I wanted sunshine I got rain And then I saw her face Now I'm a believer Not a trace Of doubt in my mind I'm in love I'm a believer I couldn't leave her If I tried Then I saw her face Now I'm a believer Not a trace Of doubt in my mind Now I'm a believer Yeah, yeah, yeah Yeah, yeah, yeah I'm a believer Then I saw her face I'm a believer Not a trace Of doubt in my mind I'm a believer |
| The classic "Weekend at Bernie's" is playing on Comedy Central this Saturday afternoon. My father happened to walk into the room and say "Hey, that's Terry Kiser." I asked what he was talking about, and it turns out he knows Bernie. Yes, the Bernie. He used to have a second home around here and my father and grandfather delivered him firewood for years. Go figure. |
| This morning at work has been utter hell. All sorts of things went wrong last night, and I've been rushing around all morning trying to fix them. Meanwhile the new analyst, who is supposed to do pretty much the same work as me, hasn't had anything to do because all the issues are stuff that's too new for him to figure out. I was fine with that, understanding even, and then my boss just really pissed me off. While I was running around with my head chopped off just to fix everything, my supervisor expected me to go to some service meeting to get the heads-up on a new upgrade project so I could brief him later. That just wasn't going to happen. Making sure bills got out was a priority. So I didn't go to the meeting, and he had to attend it himself. God forbid he ask the other analyst, who was doing nothing, to go. That didn't piss me of really, it just added unwanted stress to an otherwise crazy morning. Just before lunchtime I finally hit a lull. I hadn't planned on going on out for lunch, but after that hellish morning I decided I would afterall. Ten minutes before lunch my supervisor dropped three things on my desk, all of which need to be done immediately. Meanwhile the other analyst is surfing the Internet and twiddling his thumbs. Yes, it's true he wouldn't be able to fix the problems as quickly as I, but I thought we got another employee to take the burden off me. If we don't throw him stuff to do, he'll never learn and I'll be stuck doing the work of two people until I find myself another job. Anyway, I'm now waiting on two urgent phonecalls during my lunch hour and working diligently as I do. I needed a 10 minute break to blog and relieve some tension and anger too though. And oh yeah, the other analyst just left for his one hour lunch break. I will be working through lunch today. Something's not right with this picture, and it's my supervisor's fault. |
mood indigo  posted the following in her journal:i am kind of tempted to enter jessie's journaling contest. more so, though, because that seems pretty narcissistic, i am wishing she would allow nominations rather than just self-entry, because i'd feel way more comfortable saying "i nominate so-and-so's journal" than i would saying "ahem, my journal is the best." She's referring to the following contest:
shannon's so modest. Luckily I'm not. I'm going to enter this contest completely guilt free. And why shouldn't I? My blog is stellar afterall. Sometimes I amaze myself with how awesome my blog is. It's easily the most entertaining blog I read. And I do read it. Sometimes when I'm bored with other people's mundane blogs, I read my own just to remember how cool I am. But anyway, yes I'm going to enter the contest. I figure my blog's pretty popular so it can't hurt. I've got some ideas for which five entries I'm going to choose, but I'm a little lazy and unmotivated to figure them out on my own. So tonight during American Idol I'm going to scan my blog and pick out a variety of potential entries to use. Then I'll create a poll and let my readership pick the ones I should enter. They know better than I which entries are worth reading. Oh yeah, a GP prize to whoever can complete the title as per "The Daily Affirmation" of SNL fame. Just post the rest of it as a comment here. |
| Monday I said I'd get back into my workout routine. That didn't happen and probably won't again tonight. At first I decided not to because some stress from my father left me in no mood to work out. Once I recovered from that I realized how utterly cold the basement was. My mother was down there for a while and came up and ran her fingers under hot water. Likewise, my fingers were going numb when I was down there on my desktop. I even cuddled under my electric blanket during my nightly call with Jodi. As my grandfather would have said, "It was colder than a whore's heart." It's not as bad as last winter mind you. Last winter there was no heat to the basement and there were windows that just had plastic bags over them. I slept down there with three electric blankets. My brother slept down there with six blankets, jeans, and a hooded sweatshirt. Well, technically we didn't sleep, mostly we just shivered for two months. Is it any wonder why the move sent me into depression? It's still cold though. Much too cold to don a T-shirt and shorts and start working out. Granted I'd warm up soon enough, but then the frozen sweat would give me pneumonia. So it looks like I'll be laying off the treadmill until it warms up or until I'm moved into the new place. |
| I was watching some show on G4TV Sunday. At least I think it's G4TV. It used to be ZDTV and then TechTv, both channels all about computers and technology. Then it became G4 TechTV and focused on video games. Not sure what it is now, nor do I understand the focus. It's some bizarre combination of video game cheats and British science shows. But I digress... So one segment on this show talked about the foods guaranteed to produce the greatest and most potent amounts of flatulence. Sprouts was the clear winner, beating out beans and fizzy drinks, for the gaseous food. No wonder hippies always smell, what with eating all their sprouts and other crazy organic foods. I actually sat and watched this show, and I hope I catch it again sometime. Television is a wealth of information. The next segment was "Spot the Junkie." They showed four ordinary looking people and tested their hair samples and found excessive amounts of various chemicals. For instance the gothic kid turned out being a deodorant overuser based on the unusual amounts of aluminum zirconium in his hair. Spotting the junkie was more difficult. It turned out some toothless, cane-walking granny was the junkie when large amounts of cannabis were found in her hair. Apparently she's the oldest living member of some Legalize Cannabis Alliance or something equally inane. She puffs the wacky weed everyday. I learned all this on television. No wonder I have DVR. |
| Late last week six of us went to a chinese buffet. It's no Debbie Wong's, but it was a change. And since my sister was with us, Debbie Wong's was eliminated from the possibilities. Anyway, here's the fortune: You will be traveling and coming into a fortune. Well, I already know that I'm extremely fortunate, and you might say I'm coming into a wealth of love and happiness. As for monetary fortune, I'd be surprised to see that in the near future. Maybe once all my credit cards et al are caught up and I can start saving again. Although then my savings will be devoted to a wedding, which in effect will make me a very rich man of a different sort. Traveling though? Yeah, I'll be traveling in a week and a half, the same road trip I've been taking countless times over the last few months. This fortune seems to allude to some new traveling though. Just the other day my father asked if Jodi had been to Disney World. It was an odd question and after poking around I think maybe he's planning another trip to Orlando. He wouldn't pay for us (I'm not that stupid), but if they do end up going, I could pay for the two of us. Or maybe it's travel to somewhere else. Or maybe, just maybe, it's a silly fortune cookie, and it doesn't mean anything.  The back of the fortune cookie taught me how to say "telephone" in Chinese. Oh great, just what I needed to know. Will phones ever quit plaguing me? Like I said, Debbie Wong's it's not. Oh, did anyone notice that apparently I'll be coming into a fortune in bed? Hmmmm... |
| Rarely have I been so excited about something and never have I been so excited about moving and changing my life drastically. The last major move and life change I went through sent me into a deep depression. That one I never wanted to come though, whereas this one is something I've been waiting to happen for years. And I finally found the person with which I want to make it happen. Only eleven days until my... no, our new beginning... |
| I came to the conclusion I need to get back on track with a lot of activities. I haven't been working out or reading or writing or getting stuff done on W.com. I need to start making a schedule and stick to it. Clearly this will be easier once I'm settled in our new place and things are falling into a routine, but I may as well get started now. I've put weight back on over the holidays, as people are wont to do during that time. But worse than that is I've abandoned my eating and workout regime. Time to get back on course with that. I'm not coaching baseball next year, so I have less motivation to lose weight, but the disgust I felt when realizing my favorite shirt is getting tighter again is motivation enough. From now on I'm going to eat as soon as I get home from work, followed immediately by a combined hour on the treadmill and Bow-Flex. I can't move the Bow-Flex to the new apartment in three weeks, so I guess I'm just stuck with the treadmill. Jodi recommended going over to my parents to use it a few times a week. I might do that, but not likely. Maybe once I've lost a bunch of weight and need to tone up. We'll see. In the late evening I need to set aside some time to start writing again. Ideally I'd like to set aside an hour or at least half an hour. I'm no longer supporting just myself, and if we ever start a family it's only going to get harder to find time, so I need to do it now. Who knows, maybe I'll even finish my novel and get a contract for the series. Some extra cash would be nice. I'd like to set aside a little time to play some online poker too. I've had a horrible run of late, part of which is my own fault, but I'm still ahead and I know I can make extra cash playing. A little extra pocket change can't hurt. Maybe I can even fund enough to make our monthly or twice a month trips to Maine. I need to monitor my time on Writing.com too. I need to start limiting it a bit and making sure I'm actually productive during that time. I waste so much time doing nothing at all on here. I'm going to say I get one hour on Writing.com during which I must get something done for at least half of that time. Finally I want to go to bed at 10 and either read until 11 or catch up on some of the shows I watch. I'm especially looking forward to watching a routine of shows with Jodi in February. There's something inherently simple yet romantic about sitting on the couch together and cuddling while we watch our favorite weekly show. Those are the simple pleasures I'm looking forward to. Of course this is all contingent on the variable timing of Jodi's nightly call. This is her last week of work, so soon that won't be an issue. It's time to get back on track, and though that will be easier in three weeks, I may as well get started now. Monday night the treadmill is calling to me. |
| In the past week or so I've posted about half a dozen entries. Two of those guaranteed gift points for comments. They were silly little entries designed for nothing other than to trick people into commenting. It worked. Amongst these two entries I also wrote a series of serious entries. The comments for those were few and far between. When I really need someone to comment, really need some sort of support, it's not really there. I guess I should be used to that at this stage in my life. I've never really had too much support, and the more things change the more they stay the same. Maybe people are just greedy. Or maybe they don't have anything serious to say. I don't know. I wrote this blog originally for myself, but I quickly discovered that I never write for myself. I'm a storyteller, an entertainer. Writing to express myself doesn't even serve a purpose for me unless someone is bothering to read it. I like to make people think. If I'm not doing that, then there's no point in writing. I thrive on communication, and if no one's listening then there's no point. The thoughts are wasted on myself. So I began using this blog to entertain my readership. I wrote from the heart, but I wrote in such a way as to make my readers want to read on. I think I'm fairly decent at that. Somewhere along the way I must have lost the talent, because either no one was reading or no one cared enough to comment. Then I did something foolish. I started writing with the purpose of drawing attention. I started speaking in all-inclusive terms, in exaggerations, in melodramatic prose designed to offer entertainment to people who didn't seem to care anymore. The end result was a great deal of misunderstanding, which was largely my own fault. So I brought the games back, and people started to care again. So I paid for attention, and that's fine, but it's not why I originally created this blog. I need to express myself, and I need to do it honestly, and I need to have someone listen. Sometimes I have no one to listen, and I feel utterly alone, but I know if I share I'm just going to be judged. Is that what this blog has become? Is it a place to pay for attention and keep my thoughts and feelings harbored because presenting them only makes things worse? Sometimes I wonder why I even bother... |
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