Horrible

fuck that
fuck you

"My dad died today," she said via text, "please leave me alone." In an instant I felt horrible for bitching her out, "are you fucking kidding me?!" i say to myself, knowing better to not type that just in case it were true.  I already diced this poor soul into pieces, I didn't know it'd be a blow while she was already done. Of course, the one day I decide to text her, blow her up, out of the several months I haven't, her dad dies; perfect timing.

How did it get to become like this; how did I get to become everyone's hated number one; how did I get to become so horrible?

I realize what an old friend of mine said to be true, a subscriber of this blog once said to me, "If I were to title your blog, I'd call it the 'troubles of being genuine' " truer words have never been spoken.  People aren't used to this sort of brass tactics streaming from the orchestra...the aren't used to the abrasiveness of the chili in their mouth.. and yet, for some reason, at first, they are drawn to it like a moth to a flame.

I was on a roll this week, already losing 5 friends of FB in just two days, I figured why not take care of that kindling just laying around, the one I've been putting off for some time now, see what kind of sparks can fly if i were to kick it.  

I was heartless, offering condolences for her loss, I still stuck to my grounds, telling her to leave me the fuck alone.  I was pot committed by that point.  I saw the light at the end of the tunnel and no hearse was going to get in my way of finishing the mission.  A lesser person would have broken down, but the person on the other end of the receiving texts was not a kind soul, no sympathy to be spared.

November is only half over, and I've caused enough destruction to last a year, if not longer.  I'm not sure what other 'bang' I can go out in, but I guess I really wasn't prepared for this November when I encouraged it to "do its worst"

poor choice of words I had.









"it's not personal...don't take it personal"

H Two Uh Oh.....

Chemistry..

Law...

one of those things I've never been good at.

Something bad has occurred, something really really bad.  Of course this is in reference to the situation that started back in March/April; for those of you who know about and have been following.  Yes, the situation is still going on, no I haven't heard anything new other than to just keep waiting.  Just keep waiting to get results back I know will further prove I didn't do anything.

Then life says, hold that thought....

This week work sent me to a class/workshop thing to learn about using a new program for our department.  It was a pilot course, but nobody really cares.  The main point is, not being at my normal place of work, I am sans all my stuff; desk full of goodies, snacks, water, etc.  That being said, knowing how thirsty I get on a daily basis, and knowing I wouldn't have access to anything like I normally would during the class, I made a walking out the door decision I'd soon regret...

As I made up my breakfast togo I remembered about the drink situation.  I looked around for any random Powerade bottles I still may be have hiding around; but recalled finishing those but a month after moving in here.  I make my way to the fridge and open the door - it's really awkward for me, I've never been a fan of having the freezer on the bottom.  Once open I scan the contents.  Food items, condiments, some milk, couple pony kegs of some Michigan love, more beer, a bottle of champagne I plan to pop once I get the results back and my name is cleared, fruit....

as my search starts dwindling down, my eyes slide over to a spot tucked away in the corner of the door...bottom shelf, almost hidden for the fact the door doesn't open all the way due to the proportions of the fridge versus the kitchen.   I catch two bottles of water tucked away, for not so obvious reasons I will make known now.  The larger bottle, one litre, is over a year old now, and has been resting in my fridge since an ill-fated day in September.  The night my little drummer girl was supposed to come over, a night that changed things for her.  I suppose I never got rid of that bottle because I could never let go of her; it represents something more; and if I were to remove that from my life, vicariously I'd be removing any possibility, any hope..I'd be removing her, forever...and I obviously don't want that (even given the current situation where that's exactly she wants).

The other bottle, smaller, has been snuggled along that larger bottle, though not as long - it came from a work outing, Family Fun Day; bounce houses, putt-putt, and good times. There were originally two bottles, maybe more but memory serves me to think two placed in my fridge for hydration, that I took home with me from that event.  Maybe another was left in my car or whatever, but two for certain stayed in the fridge.

All that remains is the one, because the other is involved in a conspiracy, a lie..(I really wish I could call it Watergate but that's already been taken...)  You see, the bottle that remains is the sister bottle to the bottle of water I gave a Maker of Shoes, the one whose flavor was flawed, the one I allegedly, though unopened, tampered.

Having no other options I made picked a dumb option;  I took the small bottle with the implication I'd get something from the PX on my break, as this water bottle would quickly disappear....or so I thought.

I make it to class, get settled into my workstation, and before the class even gets underway I crack open the bottle for a drink.  One taste is all it took for my mouth to reject the bottle, pulling my head away and twisting it with confusion to the left.  "What the fuck?" I said aloud, getting the attention of the student on my left.  With his eyes now fixed onto my doings I decide to try again, maybe I just had something in my mouth...but the results were the same.  I'm starting to panic.  I turn and pass the bottle to my left, asking the fellow student to "here, try this" and with no hesitation other than saying why as he puts the bottle up to his mouth, he tries it as well.  "It tastes...off"

There's nothing more than I want to do at this moment than run out of the classroom and leave...but that will do me no good.  And for the next three and a half hours my mind is not in that classroom, not on the information we are going over, but fixated on that bottle sitting in front of me..and everything it represents.

On my break I go back home where I have another person try the bottle...later that evening two more people try a swig...all stating the same thing, some more in-depth about the flavors, but the consensus stands...there's something wrong with the water.

The confirmation from the last sampler is enough to send my mind spiraling downward.  All these horrible thoughts run through my head, suddenly my unquestionable innocence is showing signs of contest.

If the sister bottle is anything like the bottle she drank, than yes, there's something wrong with it...what, I'm not certain..though I know it didn't make me or anyone else sick for that matter.  Of course I don't have any other bottle to test or have tested, and bringing in an opened bottle to test would cause some concern...

I just want this nightmare to be over..I just wish this would all end and go away...I wish she would talk to me..as this is my only way to talk to her..

Truth is like the sun...you can shut it out for a time, but it ain't going away... 

"Last time water was turned into something it was wine, you have nothing to worry about, you're fine..."

Guilty Filthy Seoul

if you're not first,
you're last

The trouble with Firsts.

Everybody wants to be first: First place, first commenter, first to fill in the blank. But what a lot of people forget is what actually goes into being a first, how it's equally as good as it is bad.

Everybody knows who the first man to walk on the moon was. Everybody also knows that the first words spoke from the first man on the moon were botched - NASA claims a transmission error, whatever. But who was the third..fourth, or seventh person?

Being a first is a big deal, and it seems like once that is accomplished, it opens the door for a flood of others to do that same without praise, recognition, or even regret.

Let's go in a different direction; sex. People will remember their first kiss, or their first sexual experiences, etc…it holds so much weight because that person was the first person to do something with you that you've never done before, maybe you've waited for, maybe something you thought you were waiting for.

Ugh, I'd hate to kiss and tell, but just follow me on this one for the sake of the plot here….My last girlfriend and I experienced a lot of "firsts" together, well, she was the one with the firsts really, but we shared them together..let's not get technical here. Anyway..I remember the first time we did things more than just kissing, it scared here a little, naturally. I remember she freaked out in a sense because she allowed herself to do certain things. I recall her saying things such as "this is so not me" - and yes, those statements were true, up to that point.

It's hard to accept the reality of when something like that happens - when you've told yourself you're going to be a "good little person and refrain from certain activities." And after many years of a brainwashed resistance, when those walls come down, well, your mind goes into panic mode.

Every word you ever cursed at others who engaged in what you just did you are now calling yourself. It's a mindfuck that makes you hate the situation and the person with you..and understandably so. When you go all your life saying "you'll wait till marriage for X" and then that suddenly isn't a reality anymore your world gets turned upside down.

Now don't misquote me here, I'm not saying by any means that it's wrong to have these strong morals and convictions in life, on the contrary. What I'm saying is, no matter what, there's always going to be that first..so don't hate the person put in that situation..

Somebody would have eventually walked on the moon, somebody eventually would have sliced bread, and somebody eventually would have put their fingers or dick inside of you…it's just the shock that overwhelms you

Sometimes being a first in that respect is like the first person to wear their hat backwards, or color their hair, or wear parachute pants, or any other ridiculous fashion statement…people see that first person doing it and ridicule them…but then before you know, everyone is doing it. And that first person had to go through a lot of shit doing something that's now common place…

Now being myself in that situation is a little difficult. Here you are, respecting someone - their beliefs and their desires - you're trying to fulfill so much, make them happy, and then they direct you it's ok to do something..you are hesitant, you question, you can only do so much..And so then the aftermath comes and you're being questioned for your actions like you never cared. That maybe you're compromising their beliefs because you can't say no…well when someone forces your hand down their pants it's kinda hard to say "nah, you really don't want this…"

Needless to say, that girlfriend of mine was mature enough to come to her senses and terms with reality. As the initial shock wore off, she realized everything was ok, she wasn't a horrible person (and neither was I), she was at peace with the situation, and we resumed being a happy couple being together.

I think more people need to watch the movie Kinsey - the only reason I say watch the movie vice go do your own research on the guy is because I know people have short attention spans and won't go and read…despite the inaccuracies of the movie - anyway, I can barely remember the movie in its entirety, I think the ending is where it got off track from the true story..but what stood out in my mind was the beginning…Kinsey's childhood..which is what drove him to his lifelong career of sexual studies. I won't ruin it for you but it really paints a picture of just what harm closed minded fanatics actually cause and to what lengths their ignorance can go.

Being a first can suck and that's the risk you take..but someone's gotta do it, eventually…people should be so lucky they had me.








"X-Static Process = Madonna"

I Fucked Up

being too open minded..
...can get you in a lot of trouble

sometimes I wish I could just be normal

I had this song pop into my head earlier tonight - in between We R Who We R - and the foreshadowing could not be creepier. Isn't it funny how things work out like that, I can't remember the last time I heard the song played, yet BAM, out of nowhere, with no provocation, it was out...made me wonder.

I cried tonight, wait that's past tense, I've been crying tonight. I got caught in a bad situation and I said something that wasn't true..I guess I now see why people do it...fear. I felt horrible, well I do now, but at the time it seemed appropriate. I corrected the mistake, but it wasn't right of me regardless.

Am I a horrible person? I keep asking myself this question. I've asked several friends this question after tonight's events. People who know me, know me. I feel if anybody else who decided to cast judgment without getting all the details would think so. I talked about perception being reality in the last blog, well here it is again. I've never cared about what people think of me, but then again, right now at least, I do.

I didn't lie about who I was, I am all those things I said. I listed paper-facts to go against the paper-facts defense. It seemed right, fight fire with fire. Try to establish character...and even though it was the truth, it wasn't bought. I was told straight that they didn't believe me. Sure that person has no reason to believe me, I am slighted by the fact still....

because I know better, people who know me know better, it's the situational fact of the matter. I am more than what it appears...now I understand Black Like Me. I'm complex, I'm different, I'm some sort of sick novelty for people. Anybody else in the same situations I get myself in and they're a goner, if they even get that far...but me..my life is just stupid

I'd write a book if..I...could..write. But I suppose that's why I blog, people live vicariously through me..so they don't have to make the mistakes I've made...though I don't call them mistakes (well, not most of them). And most times I don't "learn lessons", I'd do it again, that's life.

I got in trouble because I let my heart do the thinking...and on paper, the situation is not good, in actuality, living it, it makes sense. I understand all sides of the argument, I'm not complaining, my actions got me here, I knew what I was getting myself involved in...being aware of the situation yet still doing it I suppose some would call crazy.

I leave in 20 days, 18 for real life events, but 20 and I'm on the plane...that's less than a month...less than three weeks...that's my reality I should be focusing on, but I can't, I haven't been able to. I'm not procrastinating putting it off, I just have other things on my mind. What was going to be the hardest thing about going to boot was missing her, now I get to start that experience earlier..without people yelling in my face while doing push-ups til I puke.

There's nothing I can do about this situation, and because I have no control over anything, I feel like I've lost control..having no control, no input, no anything is scary - that's the same reason I hate roller coasters, riding bitch on motorcycle, or even the passenger of a car...I can't control it, I don't feel comfortable.

That's where I'm at right now...I have no control whatsoever and I am not ok with that..I want to fight, I want to talk, I want to do this and that...but I can't...I'm not one to sit idly by, I'm a doer, a go-getter..I make things happen..I feel restless letting things happen around me..but this time..it's all I can do.

I fucked it all up, I've made my bed and shat in it too....now I'm supposed to lay in it...awesome.

I know you're not reading this, but I love you, and I'm sorry.







"Your mom said you cried in your sleep last night.."

Fuck the Rules

fuck the man..
let creativity ring

the fine line between being rebellious and creative.

I keep getting dinged in my classes for my "grammar" problems...be it the ellipses i use, the use of commas, the fact I don't capitalize my I's, whatever the case my be I lose points for it...BUT as my professors strike down their red pens and mark me wrong for it, in the same stroke they congratulate me, uplift me and my findings, my brilliant writing, my prose and wit..and this bothers me.

I am bothered by it because I feel they are creating a double standard, that what they want is impossible almost. In a world of 100 percents, if I excel at one part, something else has to suffer. I can keep my eyes close for 10 minutes, heightening my other senses in the process, while my sense of sight is at zero.

But it's not only that, but that's my style, that's who I am, that's how I write..part of the reason why it is so brilliant is because of the way it is written. If I were to employ perfect English grammar, the read would not be as smart, as enjoyable, as witty, or convey as much personality as it does currently.

Those painters, artists, etc are known for "coloring outside of the lines", i mean fuck, look at monet! Their works of art wouldn't be considered amazing historical pieces had they done what they were told to do..had they lived within the strict confines of "how to properly do their thing"

they all said fuck the rules

they said that not because they were rebelling against the structure, but because their creativity did not allow for it. Their minds were busy at work making something beautiful that they didn't have time to go back over with stupid little details of capitalization in short.

walt.fucking.whitman.

i shouldn't even have to say more with that statement. do you know most fucking authors, poets, writers don't follow the "laws" of writing, and the only reason why we the people see the perfect writing is because the publishing companies change it all as it is being pressed. Publishing houses clean it up, leading us to believe that those artists write perfectly ALL the TIME!

and yes, I know the difference between not caring because it's beautiful and not caring because you're a dumbass. If someone reads what I've written and is cranialy pleased, I've done my job, but furthermore it proves that "perfect english" had nothing to do with what was said...it didn't make my writing any dumber by not following the rules, and if anything my writing can stand on its own.

in the end, nothing is going to change the way i write, my writing is my expression of self, by reading you can tell i'm not some random joe, that my prose is beautiful, my thoughts witty, my knowledge vast, and those who say otherwise are haters. end of story.

quit trying to stifle creativity, it's fucking college!

(oh, and I'll justify full all-fucking-day long!)









"all in all we're just another brick in the wall apparently..."

To Fight the Good Fight

or any fight..
..just fight

I'm a fighter who loves coincidentally.

Funny, this has come up on several occasions this week alone, so I feel it now time to be blog-worthy. We've all heard the phrase "I'm a lover not a fighter", but I honestly cannot recall a time I've ever heard the opposite said. Is society saying it is better to be a lover an not to fight, but what if you are fighting for what you love?

I guess I just love to fight, give me a cause and I'm there. My English teacher in highschool once said to me, "Jangus, not everything is a revolution!" I think I can see where he is going with this, pick and chose your battles, don't make mountains out of molehills, shit like that...but, I guess I don't understand that logic. If something is said, if something is brought up, obviously it's "big enough" to point out...so why bust my balls when I defend it? Maybe I can't live things down, let things go, but that's just who I am and what I do, I'm a fighter.

I hate it when people say it's not that big of a deal, it's not that deep, when they are the assholes who said it in the first place. They attack, I counter, I'm the asshole?! Failed logic right there. Just because I was able to squash your accusation or claim or whatever, just because I was able to defend myself, the other side, etc doesn't make me the asshole, buddy.

Every cause is worth fighting for.

As long as you have conviction, you have the right, no, the responsibility to fight. Now granted there are key ways to go about fighting, not every cause needs your full on militia, but be prepared to deploy them at a moment's notice when things get out of hand.

I got ejected from my football game tonight. I disputed a call, I wanted a touchdown overturned. I knew I was right because I was involved with the play - the guy was down a good two yards before he or the ball cross into the endzone. I was fueled to defend myself beyond normal arguing limits by the horrible play calling that led up to that point - sure it didn't help that our team was losing, but it didn't help that we didn't have a call go our way up to that point either. As I tried to explain my point, I got a flag thrown for unsportsmanlike conduct. As the sand-filled yellow flag hit the turf, I lost my cool. I said some choice words letting the ref know how I really felt. His response was, "alright 35 here's another." The second flag hit the ground, he tossed me from the game, and I laid into him. I figured I was already gone, there was no turning back, what was there to lose. (being ejected also prohibits you from playing in the following game, the following game just so happens to be the last game of the season).

I was upset, I stood up for myself, I stood up for my team (as I am their coach), I stood up against the horrible play calling - did I go too far with it, maybe, but I was only brought to that point by everything else. It's not like it was one play and I went off the deep end, it was antagonized.

I fight because I believe.

I have "fights" with people not because I am angry, nor because I am trying to cause problems, drama, etc; I fight because I want to evoke emotion from those people. One of my girlfriends once told me that we "fought' more than any of her other boyfriends ever did. Now I am using the term "Fight" really loosely here, hence the quotes. Again, these weren't real fights, just me challenging a person's ideas/convictions/beliefs...I do this to see how true and how passionate they really are. I like to play Devil's Advocate a lot, and a lot of people hate it a lot. People hate when they come under fire and they cannot come up with an argument for their reasoning, people hate when they are wrong (I wouldn't know, I'm never wrong).

I fight because I want to take a stand on what I believe. I fight because I know what's right. I fight because it's worth it. I fight because it's the only way I know. I fight because giving up is not an option. I fight for what matters most to me.

Tenacity, that is what defines me. I'm the fighter in the ring that keeps getting back up..even after the match is long over, I'm still fighting. Til I win I'll keep fighting. Til I die I'll keep fighting. I'm gonna keeping fighting for you. Always.










"You think we're fighting, I think we're finally talking..."

The Straw

that broke my back..
but didn't silence my voice...

the tale of childish games and those who play them

it may come to no surprise that i can endure a lot of shit, take a lot of heat, bottle a lot of things up - but of course when doing so, there's always a breaking point, and someone else behind the explosion..there's always somebody pushing the buttons, crossing the line too many times that causes the building up, and then the final burst...tonight was no different

the story starts off on a positive note, not the typical case of the mondays. it was one of my days off and i planned on getting things accomplished, or so i thought. one of my fellow co-workers sent me a text saying they were sick and asked me to pick up - having my hopes set on doing some of my goals even with the late wake up time i agreed contingent upon a later in time...my request was granted and i was due in at 5

that gave me plenty of time to go to the gym, the bank, get some food, shower, whatever it is i do...all this put me in an uber-good mood - so much that even though i walked to work i was still early.

i was livin' the dream, but this would all come to an end soon through the actions of another co-worker. whether they were jealous to see me happy or what i'll never know, i just know that her intentions were to bring me down, without a doubt.

i knew this co-worker had a problem with me, she wasn't thrilled to be working the same night i was working as displayed by the huge grunt/sigh she let out as i said hi to her as she walked in. from there i decided it best to just go on my own way and to some degree ignore her..basically keep things and us separate...but again, those were my wishes, evidently she had others..

my station/section was located in the front, so i spent a majority of my time up there. and in the beginning of the night any time i would make my way to the back, for whatever reason, i would naturally cross paths with her - as i would cross paths with many other employees..but this one co-worker in particular found reason to make a scene or say something every time i walked by. and any time i start to talk to someone, whether it be my SA, manager, or whomever, she had to chime in with incoherent dribble directed at me.

this was so much of a spectacle that other employees were asking me what the other co-workers deal was, why was she being, and i quote, "such a bitch" to me. i played it off best i could, i put my blinders up and tuned her out, until we finally had a confrontation.

the co-worker was still hung up on a situation that occurred almost a fortnight ago with one of her tables. this was evidenced by her remark to me asking if i was gonna call her a liar to her tables tonight or if i was gonna talk shit to her tables again tonight. Long story short there was a mis-communication, something playfully said, something taking in the wrong context, and something heard as they wanted to hear it.

All in all i've been wanting to resolve the problem from the start, but any time the conversation is brought up i'm not allowed to say my side of the story and cannot get a word in edgewise - that other co-worker is always the one to get angry and walk away..just as she did tonight, saying she was over it, that it wasn't an issue any more...but, if that were the case, then why did she bring it up i replied back, only to have her walk away in anger yet again.

Let's not forget to mention she kept throwing away my drinking cup in the back..or let's forget

then my buttons were pushed for the last time. as i mentioned i was in the front, i had a ten top, that was my evening...at one point i ran to the back to get the third diet for this gentleman at my table and noticed half of my apps were up in the window, knowing they were just about to come up and my table wanted me to take the orders when i returned i called out to the kitchen, to a group of the "tan coats" asking to run my apps if they could, would you believe that the aforementioned co-worker was amoung this group.

so i took the orders on my ten top, it took some time because there was a meeting and everyone i went to would start talking...as i made my way around the first five orders, my mind is elsewhere, i keep glancing at the private room's door..expecting to see my apps walk in any moment...i keep waiting..i keep taking orders..and still i wait.

once i finished with all the orders with still no apps on the table i quickly made my way to the back..there i find a manager and said co-worker waiting for my apps to come back out. yes i said back out, for as you see they sat in the window too long and lost their temperature..this irked me to some degree, but whatever...it wasn't until that co-worker made a malicious comment about me not being able to handle a ten top and killing my apps...

i stopped in my tracks, mid-sentence, turned around and started to leave the kitchen...i always try to just remove myself from the situation for i know how bad my temper is and i know that's what they say a bigger person should do...but just as i was about to leave the kitchen my boiling point hit and i turned back around.

i cursed some expletives, cursed the people who did not run my food, and cursed the people i pay for not running my food...i think the choice word was "fuck" this time...i left the kitchen and headed back to my table where i was to do random filling of beverages and so forth...i left the private room to see the co-worker leading out my apps with the manager en route. the manager tried to say something as we passed by, but i was on a mission, tunnel vision maybe.

i took my angry little self back through the kitchen, through IRD, and out onto the back dock to walk around and get some air...i don't know why we in the industry do this, but we do. those back alley's aren't for deliveries and smoking only..no, the garbage cans and receptacles have seen their fair share of kicks and obscenities shouted their way...

i wasn't to that point, i just wanted to remove myself from the restaurant to recompose myself for the rest of the night. i always think back to those moments i've had a CPJR that were similar to this, but standout more i think because they happened more often..though it seems this place is catching up.

it's one thing to fuck with me an entire shift, to say shit, to mess with my drink by putting lemons in it..but you cross the line when you fuck with my guests - to deliberately not run my food and cause others to disregard it in some sort of power struggle or revenge is flat out psychotic.

when people do shit like that it reminds me of my first serving job at Blue Bird..there was an expediter who had a crush on me. we had hung out but once i knew she had "just a friend" who was an ex trying to get back with her i ended things..not to mention on those few occasions we did hang out i thought she wasn't on the level..only to prove myself right in the upcoming story..

as i said she was the expo at my work..controlling my food in the window..when my first couple of tickets suddenly "got lost" i thought nothing of it, it was busy, there were actually two expos that day as i remember..but as i pieced it together it was only food coming from her side that "wouldn't show" and when i asked her to "re-make" the items i needed she at first played the "sympathetic" card and told me she was remaking them...but after i continued to wait and the items were never made and i went to her a second time i got the "sorry 'bout ya" look and shrug...needless to say she didn't work there much longer...

it's sad how people will let their personal life interfere with their work life, and vice versa..though i think i can understand a bit of that...but then again..there's some people who i just hate working with because they suck at their job, but meet them after y'all clock out and it's a different story.

the show continued for the rest of the evening's shift. the co-worker continued to talk shit to me whenever i did something "gee, surprised you actually helped out" and other things. she refused to help me run out any other food for my table throughout the evening as well, as i "never thanked her for running my apps out" as she put it.

all i can say is this whole situation amazes me...the childish way she acts towards me, the malicious way she attacks me..you'd think it was HER who had something over ME...but this is not the case, in fact it is just the opposite...she should be the one walking on eggshells...and now i remember, the one request i asked of her since the beginning...i said do not cross me, do not upset me, do not cause ill will in my life and i will keep my silence.

and i have given the co-worker a chance to apologize, to settle things, to make things right in the universe once again..but i have a feeling i'll be asking Mr. Gorbachev to tear down that wall..










"for once i've met someone who is more childish than i am..."

Tired of Tires

Treading on nothing..
...it's kind of a trend..

tuesdays are supposed to be my good days, what happened?

it's a little after five o'clock and my training seminar downtown has just let out...the three ladies who are training with me have already bolted for the door, but i am slow to leave - the trainer had a ghost story to tell me, and you all know how i definitely have time for ghost stories. So after the anti-climatic story i headed on out to the streets of downtown...there's a slight sprinkle of rain coming down so i pop up my hood..there's also a chill in the air as the temperature has dropped to the lower forty's, making the rain, though slight, even worse...

but there's tomorrow to look forward to i think to myself as i scurry the sidewalk along my mile long hike to where i parked my car...the temperature is supposed to get in the 80's by friday so this is here to make us appreciate what's to come....ahhh, who am i kidding...even with the sweet, the sour will always be hated.

i finally make it to my car - i consider this my cardio for the day - and i notice my front passenger tire is low, cooooooool. Well the thing with that is yes it is low, yes i made a comment to myself on the drive to work today that it was going to need air again, but i just filled it up with air a couple of days ago....and the thing about that is...it didn't start this problem of loosing air until i checked and filled my tires when i got gas two weeks ago...and it wasn't really low then...maybe down by a couple pounds....but ever since that air filling it's been leaking like a sieve...

i gave it a peek to see how low it was...it wasn't looking good at all...so i walked around my car and opened the backdoor, and then stood there, peering in...where's my air pump? No seriously, where's my- and then in some dramatic fashion my minds clears and the camera shot raises up from me looking down aerial view, flies south across the city, pauses at our apartment complex, duh, closer in on our apartment building, duh, zooms in on our apartment, duh, then the patio closer still, duh, and then freeze frame on the airpump as it sits next to gary's bike on the patio DUH DUH!

oh, and cue the rain to start pouring down at this point..

"Ahhhh, fuck my life..well", i said trying to salvage the moment, "let's see if she can make me to the nearest gas station" - the nearest gas station that may, MAY have an airpump is another mile down the road, and of course i am willing to risk it, when else is there for me to do...well, good thing i wasn't playing russian roulette, that's all i'll say...

i get out of the parking lot and it's not even to the corner i can hear thump thump thump thump...and no, i was not carpooling with a fucking rabbit...the car, lucille, is handling horribly so i know it's all over...i pull over at the nearest, an only spot i can, another parking lot...i coast into a spot and throw it in park. 'Gee i don't remember it being that low' as i turn the corner of my car to see smoke coming from all around what used to be a tire..and rim...

now, problem...if you all remember my plight of tire problems from December of last year, you'll remember i no longer have a spare....and for those of you just joining us, i blew my spare only moments after putting it on and getting back on the road back in mid-december..

so what to do...well, let's take the wheel off, i still have high hopes, hopes that i can still inflate the tire and put it back on, just checking it every day...i don't see any rips or holes..yet..so i'm good.....i try to hold an umbrella and jack up the car at the same time...kinda hard..the car goes up, wheel comes off......looks like we are on plan C...oh, we didn't have a Plan C..because we weren't planning on the inner-side of the wheel to be shredded like wheat, coool...

Gary was actually texting me while i was attempting to remove the tire, he tells me he is downtown working and to use his car to get my tire fixed, or a new one, or something....the time is a little after 6..which means a lot of places are gonna be closed by now...but i make my mark back towards downtown using the handy-dandy iphone to locate and call tire places...

i reach the car and drive it back down to my car to pick up the tire...but where to go..i still haven't found an open tire place, well one that didn't have the cheapest, new tire for under $140...ughhhh, i remember a time when i first owned lucille i couldn't spend under $200 a tire on her...imagine trying to by a set of tires and it costing you a grand...on a retail salary..that..that's like one week of working straight...that's horrible...but back then i was 19 and a workhorse and i could do it...now it would take me half the time, but i wouldn't want to...

so i sit and make more calls, not knowing in which direction to head off to because who knows what will happen...but 7pm is approaching, and anything that wasn't closed before will be shortly soon...

i get ahold of a place, they have a new tire but suggest their other location for a cheap, used tire...the man gives me the number...and in my overzealous, please dear god state, i write it down wrong...first try no go...second try no go...wait...did he say three zeros..es you see see eee es es, that's the way you spell success...well, at least the number..they carry the new tire, 120, but he's got to check in back for a used one...i'm on hold..this is really my last chance...i don't want to spend 120 on a tire for a car i plan on driving off a cliff in the next month, i don't have time (money) for that...

he comes back and tells me he's got two in stock, i almost pee myself...i ask him for his location, his exact address so i can plug it into my iphone for directions...then i ask him til what time is he open, 7pm...i called it...and the time currently, 654..the location, the southside..the time it would take to get there...13 minutes...i pleaded with him to stay open for me, he obliged if i could make it in ten minutes or so....

i drove that little cavalier as fast as i could...i was familiar with the area, but my iphone directions actually were accurate and came in handy for once..i pulled into the lot at 7:02, don't ask me how i did it, i just did...the man whom i spoke to was really polite and beyond courteous...the whole process took roughly seven minutes and i was out the door, well, not without me giving the guy a tip - hey, i come from a tipped industry, you better believe i'll tip others who do deserve it...

it was funny, as the guy rolled the wheel out to me i dug in my right pocket for some money, as i was doing so the guy of course started to turn it down..i pulled out what i thought to be the bill i put in there earlier, but it was not..it was just a single -"oh no, that's not right...that's not enough" and i started to jumble through my other pockets to find the correct bill - to which he was very pleased with...

so back to my car, taking my time on this drive - but you think the journey is over...ohh no, not quite yet...things can't go that smoothly...just as in movies and video games...the bad guy never dies just once...

so i return to Lucille, whom i left jacked up in the air while i was away, and attempt to put the tire back on...and here we go..here's the final battle.

sooo, another sidenote....my car pulls...i was told many a moon ago by someone who did my oil change that i needed to get, oh i don't remember, checked out/replaces/something...obviously i care...tie rod?

regardless i know what the problem is i just can't name it...so the deal with the car now is, the tire won't go on the mounts...it's not high enough....so i check the jack and it's almost at it's breaking point...it's as high as it can go...i need something else to raise the suspension/wheel part higher...now normally you wouldn't have to ever do this...but when you got a car like mine...you do...is this healthy, no...could it break off while i'm driving, yes....do i really care...see the first answer...

so i try to think of how to jack the suspension up...gary's car doesn't have a jack, the spare is too small to fit underneath...and i can only hold it for so long..so through some wicked macgyver like brilliance and manipulating i was able to lift up on the rotor and mounts while kicking the tire into place...it actually didn't take me that long...i had too much adrenaline on winning the race from earlier...

so with the tire back on and the lugnuts secured i was on my way home...it was 8pm...three hours later i would return home..what a day...

"i guess it wouldn't be any more poetic to have something bad happen on my day of tues to make me blue"

I'm Gonna Get in Trouble for This..

part two
part sad

With the breakfast/lunch shifts over i leave the restaurant and walk to my car..there's the sun.. shining down upon me as i put on my Ray Ban Blues Brother style shades..it's so weird to be leaving work for the rest of the day at a time like this. I approach my car and look to see if i got a ticket, it must be my lucky day. I return home just moments down the road, i used to bike to work, but the bike got stolen from my very workplace...so i resorted back to driving, walking is out of the question, especially for those who spend all day on your feet running around.

i return home trying to prepare for having the rest of the day off, and in fact, i have tomorrow off too, so this is like a holiday weekend for me it seems. maybe I'll hop back in the car and go for a drive like i used to, maybe I'll get together with people and do something fun, maybe I'll do something worthwhile for a change. i get in my bedroom, derobe and crash on my bed - who am i kidding, i need a nap from the lack of sleep the night prior. Though i know a nap will ruin the rest of the day for me, and especially cause a problem for trying to sleep later tonight, i really don't care, any time spent on not thinking about certain things is a plus, just hope i don't dream about it...

the nap turned out to be a full out slumber, i awoke shortly before 7pm meaning i had just taken a 5 hour nap...that's as much sleep as i get in an average night...good job - sleep is definitely out of the question tonight...i guess I'll be writing these blogs at 4am, per usual. as i pull myself together the phone rings, it's TJ - he's calling from the hospital so I'm sure to enjoy the conversation. he's having problems with the hospitals internet which means he's now trapped in hell, especially when he finally has a reason to be on the internet..i cant help but laugh, but oblige to help him out.

shortly thereafter the ex messages me, and she's not too particularly happy. she has found out about the blog (i wasn't trying to hold it a secret from her, i just thought she'd never look for it), and she's not happy with the portrayal i give her in my stories. i tell her i appreciate her patronage. then i go about defending myself, i read through the last thing i posted and see she is mentioned only in the first paragraph, and in all actuality, i don't see where she has a problem. she thinks i make her look stupid, she also thinks all my readers hate her, i couldn't sell security to that girl if i locked her up in fort knox. OK that's being a little harsh, i apologize..but looking over the blog and recite back to her lines that in fact paint her in a positive light..she dismisses my efforts and asks that i not talk about her on here anymore.

now, I'll let myself get kicked around more than i should, but when it comes to my freedom and rights, especially me sounding off or putting someone in place - that's when I'll stand up for myself...like braveheart, I'll go out fighting as i shout, "you can take my heart, but you can never take...my freedom!!!" now granted i don't want anyone feeling uncomfortable with the way i write about them in blogs, unless it is justified to a certain degree. i feel as if i have yet to play her out to be the bad guy, in fact i am still trying in hopes of making amends with her by changing my ways and doing what is right...now i know this will come back to haunt me because she'll say I'm doing something she asked me not to, and in typical Jangus fashion, i disobeyed the order, i guess I'll never change....which is partially right, I'm writing about her as she is still a figure in my life, i write about my daily life as stories told in type - she asked me to stop, but i told her i could not do that.

now i never mention my name, i never mention her name, i try to keep complete animinity...if you google search her real name, this blog is not going to come up..sure people who know me well enough know her, but people who are friends with her i am sure have heard all the negative stories from her about me too..her friends and family will never see this, nothing harmful or damaging is being said, as i told her the other night, if i wanted to make your life a living hell, it'd be done by now.

speaking of people who know people, isn't it funny how there are always two sides to a story, two sides to a breakup? she has told her friends all the horror stories, i tell mine how sorry i am. i go about trying to correct my wrongs, it goes unnoticed. her friends rally her on to not get back with me, my friends offer support as they see another emotion besides sarcasm. i know my readers and friends don't hate her, and I'm not asking that they do, I'm not going to twist the story to make the ex look bad...you know, maybe I'm not doing the right things...

anyways, so we are conversing about the breakup, as we always seem to do now, topic of conversation gets heavy and real, but then all of a sudden it is cut short, she has to go...this has happened before, i feel as if i am making progress, then its a "talk to you later" and i am confused....its like making a big meal, cooking it, plating it, then going to bed...you can go back to the food later, but it's not gonna be as good as it first came out of the oven...

i spend the next bit of my time finishing up The Waiter Rant...as i read more and more, go further into this book, i feel as if the author and i are one in the same - our fears, our hopes, our desires...again it doesn't help that we play a role in the same industry. he talks about a fear of failure which i can relate to heavily - Granted I'm assuming the majority of the population has a fear of failure, i mean look at George and Marty McFly, they were fearful of rejection...maybe that's what my problem with this most recent breakup is...maybe I'm trying so hard to mend things because if i don't get back together with her i A) failed at winning her over, and 2) are no longer fit for a relationship with her, henceforth single, hence being rejected...funny how a fear of failure and rejection can make you try..irony anyone?

i stopped reading with only 2 chapters left...in a way I'm afraid to end the book...as i said before, i need closure, i just hate endings...i could have easily finished that book off tonight, but instead i closed it and put it back on my dresser, more than likely I'll finish it tomorrow..just something didn't want me to finish it now, we'll see what happens.

afterwards i dick around online, watch videos, check on my bank account (something I'll do 4 times a day like the amounts will suddenly grow or something..) I'm trying to do everything i can to keep my mind off her, I'm trying to cloud my brain with every little thing i can so i don't think about her...it works for moments out of the day, I'll be so consumed in something i forget about the rest of the world...if i could freeze frame and replicate a certain instance, that'd be it. i wished i didn't care, sure i could probably turn it on like a lightswitch, I've been known to do it countless times before, but I'm supposed to be changing - also it's not what i really want anyways. i think blogging is going to help me out even though i said i didn't want to bring the relationship into my writing, i find myself doing just that from time to time - i guess it makes for good day time TV...

it's kinda hard to not include something such as that into a creation that lives solely off of your feelings, thoughts, and daily life...and if my feelings, thoughts, and activities just so happen to include her, who is she to say i can't write about them...what can i say, I'm a martyr.

i won't lie to you, lately I've been really down and out about this whole thing, but there's more to it than just her...I'm also upset about no longer having the opportunity to transfer to Troy. it was nothing that was my fault or within my grasps of controlling, they wanted to have me..but as they decided to bring me aboard my spot was filled with employees seeking to return to their positions from before...having troy pulled out from under me also knocked me on my ass about returning to UofM..

with the breakup of my girlfriend i wasn't too sure about continuing with the move to Troy in the first place - it was just something i was doing for us..just like Josh Lucas' character in Sweet Home Alabama, i wanted to prove to my girl that i could be something too - but now that Troy wasn't even an option i am left confused in my life once again. stopped dead in my tracks of life, i cant see through the overbrush to know where the paths go, let lone where they are anymore...

turns out the ex didn't even read the entire blog or other posts, for she had no idea i wasn't going to move to MI..i ended up breaking the news when she made a mention of me moving 500 miles away. apparently she just read the first paragraph of the most recent posting and got steamed when she figured out it was her..and here i was thinking that she actually started reading about me and my life, my thoughts, trying to understand where i was coming from and how i felt, or did the things the way i did...here i thought she actually cared..i guess she tried and was turned off by the end of the first little bit of blog. again, my fault.

i continue clicking away at my mouse, always frantically moving from one tab to the other, multiple browsers open, just a slue of activity to keep my mind off things. a human instinctual desire takes over my thoughts. lately I've been so depressed i don't even wanna look at another female, so much to the point where i cant even get an erection. now that's bad, when you're a young, virile male and you cant rise to the call of duty, you know something is not right upstairs.

time passes, my mind slips in an out of consciousness. i find myself in a surreal state unaware of how much time has passed since i was on the computer last...i haven't fallen asleep, and i am wondering if it is at all possible - getting to sleep right now might save this evening, but i know better, I'm dreary and wore out emotionally, yet not tired enough for sleep. as i become more known of my situation it's clear what i just did. i determine my place to be in me bed, out-stretched, stiff as a board, on my back. My left leg crosses over my right at the ankle, my hands are placed firmly under my buttocks. the semen soaked sock still wrapped around my now flaccid penis..a pillow covers the top half of my head. the only thing that feels good about what i did was it relieved the pressure inside me, the naturalistic need was satisfied, but of course it only made me think of her. as i lie there with a sense of guilt hovering over me i hear my computer make a noise, somebody has instant messaged me and instantly i know who it is...i pull myself up and over to the computer where my thoughts were confirmed, it was her..guess it was my server's sixth sense kicking in...










"its not up to me anymore, if you WANT me in your life, you'll find a way to PUT me there"